THE SPARROW 75 



paving stones. It is not rare; in the Tuileries or Luxem- 

 bourg gardens at the turning of some shady walk to meet 

 a sparrow, the head of the family, the young ones trudg- 

 ing after the father, hopping and piping, and opening 

 wide their large yellow bill for the father to feed. 



Although the nest of the Parisian sparrow is far 

 from comfortable, still it is rarely empty. As soon as one 

 brood has moved out, another one takes its place. The 

 female sparrow is remarkably prolific, and her progeniture 

 can rival even that of Mother Goose's « Old Woman who 

 lived in a Shoe. » From the beginning of May to the end 

 of September each couple has hatched at least three broods. 

 The rapid multiplication of these roguish birds is the 

 despair of gardeners and cultivators. In Paris, where vine- 

 arbours and fruit walls are rare, the pilfering disposition 

 of the sparrows does not draw on them public reprobation; 

 on the contrary, the population is rather prone to encou- 

 rage and to develop it yet more. Hardly a Parisian exists 

 who does not feed regularly a sparrow or two. The civil 

 service officer, the clerk going to his office, the shop- 

 girl on her way to her place of employment, stop on their 

 way in the Tuileries to throw a handful of crumbs to 

 some band of sparrows. Between eleven and twelve in 

 the morning you can see on all window-sills many chari- 

 table hands preparing a meal for these happy and amiable 

 vagrants. 



Ye frisky, talkative sparrows ! You are indeed the 



