12 <I(4fMBLES OF A VOMINIS 



weeks ; then, at the end of a summer, it is abandoned, 

 and in a brief space all the material of moss and hair and 

 feathers, gleaned with patient toil and arranged with 

 matchless art, is scattered to the winds. But the home 

 of the sparrow is more to him than a nursery or a 

 temporary resting-place. In many cases it serves as a 

 shelter all the year, and the thick layers of feathers 

 which form its defence against the winter's cold are as 

 marked a feature in its plan as the palisade of thorns 

 with which the magpie guards his own against attack. 



It would be hard to find a spot where the bold spar- 

 row would not dare to make his nest. From a hole in 

 the beam of a colliery engine beating twenty strokes 

 a minute, to the mouth of the lion on the vanished 

 Northumberland House ; from a crease in the canvas of 

 a coasting smack to the muzzle of an abandoned gun, 

 all sorts of places in their time have served his turn. 



But best of all perhaps he loves the snug shelter of 

 the eaves, hiding his nest under the tiling, in a rain- 

 water pipe, or in the tunnel which he or his ancestors 

 have hollowed in the ancient thatch. He has a special 

 weakness for seizing on his neighbour's house, and many 

 a pair of swallows and of martins has he driven from 

 their homestead. He in his turn is by no means un- 

 familiar with the bitterness of eviction when swift or 

 starling has taken a fancy to his nest. Several times 

 the daring bird has been known to take up its quarters 

 among the material of an occupied magpie's nest, and 

 there is a case on record of its building among the sticks 

 of the very eyrie of an eagle. 



