4 ON BOSTON COMMON. 



curiously down into a geranium bed, within the 

 leafy seclusion of which he presently disap- 

 peared. He was nothing but a cat-bird ; if I 

 had seen him in the country I should have 

 passed him by without a second glance ; but 

 here, at the base of the Everett statue, he 

 looked, somehow, like a bird of another feather. 

 Since then, it is true, I have learned that his oc- 

 casional presence with us in the season of the 

 semi-annual migration is not a matter for aston- 

 ishment. At that time, however, I was happily 

 more ignorant ; and therefore, as I say, my 

 pleasure was twofold, the pleasure, that is, of 

 the bird's society and of the surprise. 



There are plenty of people, I am aware, who 

 assert that there are no longer any native birds 

 in our city grounds, or, at the most, only a 

 few robins. Formerly things were different, 

 they have heard, but now the abominable Eng- 

 lish sparrows monopolize every nook and corner. 

 These wise persons speak with an air of posi- 

 tiveness, and doubtless ought to know whereof 

 they affirm. Hath not a Bostonian eyes ? And 

 doth he not cross the Common every day ? But 

 it is proverbially hard to prove a negative ; and 

 some of us, with no thought of being cynical, 

 have ceased to put unqualified trust in other 

 people's eyesight, especially since we have 

 found our own to fall a little short of absolute 



