: FROM A MIDDLESEX GARDEN 



Some one day, long waited and hoped for, the mists clear, 

 and all the drab dinginess seems banished, when from the 

 clear arch of the sky the sun in all its glory breaks forth, 

 flooding street and square and court. The blackness which 

 the winter fogs brought seems to have all been washed away ; 

 the roofs gleam, and fagades are wreathed with amber light ; 

 every corner of street is transformed into a garden with the 

 flower-sellers' wares, while overhead the sparrows build. This 

 "brown bird" is as much a bird of the city as it is of the 

 country. This to-day of May I have watched them from a 

 city window busy in building amid surroundings as unlovely 

 as could anywhere be found ; twittering, enjoying the sun- 

 light that had found its way to their scene of labour, heedless 

 were they of the swooping smoke that a gust of wind occa- 

 sionally brought from some neighbouring chimney. One 

 could easily espy their homes by the long pieces of string and 

 packing straw, of bright-coloured dyes, hanging from the 

 eaves, which principally composed their nests. Why should 

 the sparrows prefer these dingy spots when for a brief 

 wing-journey the pleasant country might be theirs, gardens 

 blushing with the blooms of May, orchards rosy with newly- 

 opened apple-blossom, and wherein they could catch the first 

 butterflies ? 



Of late years we have heard a great deal about the sparrow. 

 Some have spoken of it as a friend, some as a pest. One 

 farmer pleads for it as follows : " Of all our British birds the 

 sparrow is the most useful, to the farmer especially. These 

 birds are the greatest destroyers and the best fly-catchers we 

 have, for the simple reason that they are always with us. 

 Volumes might be written of their good deeds, and all their 

 bad deeds summed up in a very few words. ... I weigh the 



