260 BESIDE THE GREAT SALT LAKE. 



thrushes from the feathered orchestra. Some 

 of them may dwell in that part of the world, 

 the books affirm it, and I cannot deny it, but 

 this I know: one whose eye is untiring, and 

 whose ear is open night and day to bird-notes, 

 may spend May, June, July, yes, and even Au- 

 gust, in the haunts of Rocky Mountain birds, 

 and not once see or hear either of our choice 

 singing thrushes. 



However the student may miss the birds he 

 knows at home, he must rejoice in the absence 

 of one, the English sparrow. When one sees 

 the charming purple finch and summer yellow- 

 bird, nesting and singing in the streets of 

 Denver, and the bewitching Arkansas goldfinch 

 and the beautiful Western bluebird perfectly 

 at home in Colorado Springs, he is reminded of 

 what might be in the Eastern cities, if only the 

 human race had not interfered with Nature's 

 distribution of her feathered families. In Utah, 

 indeed, we meet again the foreigner, for in that 

 unfortunate Territory the man, wise in his own 

 conceit, was found to introduce him, and Salt 

 Lake, the city of their pride and glory, is as 

 completely infested by the feathered tramp as 

 New York itself. Happy is Colorado that great 

 deserts form her borders, and that chains of 

 mountains separate her from her neighbors; 

 for, since the sparrow is as fond of the city as 



