THE SPARROW KIND. 243 



As they are the favourites of man, so they are 

 chiefly seen near him. All the great birds dread 

 his vicinity, and keep to the thickest darkness of 

 the forest, or the brow of the most craggy pre- 

 cipice ; but these seldom resort to the thicker 

 parts of the wood ; they keep near its edges, in 

 the neighbourhood of cultivated fields ; in the 

 hedge-rows of farm grounds ; and even in the 

 yard, mixing with the poultry. 



It must be owned, indeed, that their living near 

 man, is not a society of affection on their part, as 

 they approach inhabited grounds merely because 

 their chief provision is to be found there. In the 

 depth of the desert, or the gloom of the forest, 

 there is no grain to be picked up ; none of those 

 tender buds that are so grateful to their appe- 

 tites: insects, themselves, that make so great a 

 part of their food, are not found there in abun- 

 dance, their natures being unsuited to the mois- 

 ture of the place. As we enter, therefore, deeper 

 into uncultivated woods 1 , the silence becomes 

 more profound, every thing carries the look of 

 awful stillness ; there are none of those warb- 

 lings, none of those murmurs that awaken atten- 

 tion, as near the habitations of men ; there is 

 nothing of that confused buzz, formed by the 

 united though distant voices of quadrupeds and 

 birds, but all is profoundly dead and solemn. 

 Now and then, indeed, the traveller may be rous- 

 ed from this lethargy of life, by the voice of a 

 heron, or the scream of an eagle ; but his sweet 

 little friends the warblers have totally forsaken 

 him. 



