AN UNPROGRESSIVE FARM 23 



rush, hurled itself against the mirror, upset a 

 vase full of columbines, and finally sank be 

 hind the wood-box. At last it was caught, and 

 Jonathan, going over to the hearth, resumed 

 his former position. &quot;Jonathan! Put him 

 out of doors!&quot; I exclaimed. &quot;Sh-h-h,&quot; he 

 responded, &quot;I m going to teach him to go 

 back the way he came. There he goes ! see? &quot; 

 He rose, triumphant, and began to brush the 

 soot out of his collar and hair. I was sorry to 

 dash such enthusiasm, but I felt my resolu 

 tion hardening within me. 



&quot;Jonathan,&quot; I said, &quot;we did not come to 

 the farm to train chimney swallows. Besides, 

 I don t wish them trained, I wish them kept 

 out. I don t regard them as suitable for house 

 hold pets. If you will sink to a pet bird, get a 

 canary.&quot; 



&quot;But you wouldn t have an old house 

 without chimney swallows!&quot; he remonstrated 

 in tones of real pain. 



&quot;I would indeed.&quot; 



It ended in a compromise. At the top of 

 the chimney Jonathan put a netting over half 

 the flues; the others he left open at the top, 

 but set in nettings in the corresponding flues 



