At Home with Wild Nature 



expressing his opinions in quite unsparrow-like lan- 

 guage, it is true, but with the unconcealed intention 

 of riveting my notice or that of his mistress upon 

 him. 



At last he succeeded. During a momentary lull in 

 the conversation my kinswoman suddenly requested me 

 to pass the bird-cage over to her bed. I did so in fear 

 and trembling, but managed to suppress any indication 

 of my emotions. After talking in the usual extrava- 

 gantly endearing terms old ladies indulge in when 

 addressing their pets and being answered by the garru- 

 lous bird in his terse borrowed notes, she suddenly 

 turned upon me with the dread question : " What is the 

 bird ? " 



The query came like the crack of a pistol fired point- 

 blank at my head, but I was ready for it, and quietly 

 answered : " Oh, it's not very rare, Miss Kearton, I've 

 seen plenty of specimens in America. Scientists call it 

 Passer domesticus." 



Luckily the high-sounding Latin name appeared to 

 satisfy her, but I left the town by a train departing 

 earlier than the one I intended to catch. 



The songs of some birds can easily be translated into 

 human phrases. To me that of the chaffinch always 

 sounds exactly like the words. " see, see, see, Joe 

 Dobson's very near," but to the Sussex peasants it 

 represents the words, " Quick-quick-quick, fetch me a 

 bottle o' ginger beer " ; whilst to the ear of poor Richard 



