THE SPARROW. Ill 



Their sorrows have fled with the wintry blast, 



And soft-flowing lays through the woodlands they pour ; 

 Forgetful how lately the winter wind blew, 

 And they sung the sad notes of their plaintive lu-lu. 



With kindred and clan they mingle the strain, 



And love by the birds of their race to abide ; 

 And they come to their forest haunts again, 



To build their low nests by the green hill side. 

 When the stormy winds unroof their retreat, 



And wither the wreaths of their summer bowers, 

 Then afar in the valley the wanderers meet, 



And seek to beguile the sad wintry hours. 



While chilled by the night wind, and bathed by the dew, 

 They chaunt in soft concert their plaintive lu-lu. 



ORDER PASSERES. 



The Sparrow. 

 Fringilla domestica. LINN. 



THE most bold and mischievous of the feathered 

 tribe in this country, is the sparrow. Invited 

 or uninvited he heeds not, but freely takes his 

 station in our fields, our gardens, our yards, 

 and under the eaves of our houses. Sometimes 

 he even dislodges the martin from his clay 

 cottage, built with so much labour, coolly 

 taking up his abode in the usurped tenement, 

 and rearing there his young, as if it had de- 

 scended to him by hereditary right, and been 



