UNDER FALSE COLOURS. 217 



blazing fire. While the storm howls, or the snow drives 

 abroad, a distressed Sparrow darts within the doorway. 

 For a moment it enjoys the cheering warmth and shelter 

 from the blast ; then shooting through the other entrance, 

 it is lost again. Such is man. He comes, we know not 

 whence, hastily snatches a scanty share of worldly pleasure, 

 and then goes we know not whither. If this new doctrine, 

 therefore, will give us any clearer insight into things that 

 so much concern us, my feeling is to follow it.' 



Bishop Hall, for a wonder, has not introduced the Sparrow 

 into his choice moralities ; but the German fabulist Lessing 

 has made use of it to convey a great piece of satire. An 

 old church, which had afforded nests for innumerable 

 Sparrows, was at length repaired. When it now stood 

 forth in its restored splendour, the Sparrows came back in 

 search of their old dwellings, but they found them all 

 walled up. i Of what use now,' they cried, ' is this great 

 building? Come on; let us forsake this useless stone 

 heap.' 



This bird, it would seem, is sometimes made to per- 

 sonate a more beautiful bird and better songster than 

 itself; for a newspaper paragraph tells us, l it may not be 

 generally known that a species of fraud is carried on to a 

 great extent by a set of fellows selling Sparrows about 

 the metropolis, dexterously painted, so as to make them 

 resemble Bullfinches, for which they ask the moderate price 

 of a crown a piece. An old gentleman of the name of 

 Cross, who resides in Bishopsgate Street, was lately cheated 

 in this manner, by giving 10s. for a pair of these handsome 

 birds.' 



We are reminded by this of an account given in the 

 ' Spectator' of the Sparrows which were purchased for the 

 opera, ' to act the parts of singing-birds in a delightful 

 grove.' They were turned loose on the stage, and the 

 music which was supposed to issue from their bills * pro- 

 ceeded from a concert of flageolets and bird-calls, which 

 were placed behind the scenes.' We are not, however, 

 to suppose that hopping Dick, the familiar chirper, never 

 does sing sweetly. Listen to William Kidd on this head. 

 ' Some will doubtless smile when I tell them that House 



