Ground the House 



species, first and foremost of which is the ubiqui- 

 tous House Sparrow. There is something truly 

 Anglo-Saxon about him, for, like our race, he 

 above all other birds has obeyed the command to 

 " multiply and replenish the earth." Wherever 

 he goes he flourishes, often, it is to be feared, at 

 the expense of other and rarer birds. 



There always appears to me to be a difference 

 between the country-bred Sparrow and his sooty 

 town relatives, who hop unconcernedly about 

 among the horse's hoofs in the cabstand, or coolly 

 avoid the wheels of an approaching hansom in the 

 nick of time. They are cheery, companionable 

 little birds, and I have often enjoyed listening to 

 them as they assembled by hundreds to roost in 

 the ivy outside my college rooms. Such a to-do 

 they made of it, such a chatter ; all seemed talking 

 at once, none listening. Perhaps it was a general 

 thanksgiving for their preservation from college 

 cats. I cannot tell. Certainly they made no 

 secret of the fact that they had such comfortable 

 quarters, and a Barn Owl was fully aware of it, for 

 sometimes at night when I have heard a commotion, 

 I have looked out and have seen him, by the light of 

 the gas lamp, beating the ivy, and no doubt making 

 a nice little meal off the inmates. 



Everyone knows the Sparrow and his untidy 

 nest, but it may be news to some that the housing 

 question is apparently becoming serious even with 

 them. At any rate, a friend of mine told me that 



