162 EXTRACTS FROM NOTE-BOOKS. CH. XXX. 



him to try to snatch a morsel of his leavings. 

 Perched amidst the crumbs, he looks the very per- 

 sonification of ill temper and pugnacity. The 

 thrush, on the contrary, allows every bird to feed 

 with him, and puts on a complaining but not an 

 angry look when an impudent sparrow or tomtit 

 snatches the morsel of bread from his bill. 



In large towns it is curious to see how accustomed 

 sparrows become to all the noises and sights by 

 which they are surrounded. You see a flock of 

 sparrows feeding in the middle of a paved street, 

 an omnibus comes rattling along, shaking the very 

 houses and making din and noise enough to deafen 

 a miller, yet the sparrows merely hop out of reach 

 of the wheels, and do not take the trouble to go a 

 yard farther. Knowing, either from instinct or long 

 experience, that they are safe from gun or trap, 

 where every passer by is too intent on his own 

 more important matters to waste a thought upon 

 them, they become most impudently confident of 

 their own safety. 



Like all other birds, sparrows adapt themselves 

 without difficulty to whatever place they happen to 

 live in. In towns they make their nests in curious 

 holes and corners under the tiles and roofs of the 

 houses, or about the projections and carvings on 

 churches and old buildings. In country villages 



