192 THE BIRD OF THE STREET. 



The female sparrow is usually a modest lit- 

 tle soul, as might be expected in one always 

 " kept down," and so outshrieked by her mate 

 that she is rarely heard. Next to the tree 

 which the murderer considers his own is an- 

 other spruce, which for some reason is very at- 

 tractive to the hens, who search among the twigs 

 and take something in their mouths ; whether 

 insect or part of the vegetable growth I am un- 

 able to say positively. Whatever it may be, it 

 has no interest for the masculine sparrow. 

 There are often as many as a dozen females 

 there at once, and I have been delighted with 

 this opportunity to observe them apart from 

 their obstreperous spouses, who are so self- 

 assertive that they give their mates no chance at 

 all. I find that their voices are less harsh than 

 the male tones. Their chatter among them- 

 selves is quite soft, as is also their " baby-talk," 

 which I hear when a mother has her young 

 family out. The most pleasing sound I ever 

 noticed from one of the house-sparrow tribe 

 was from a solitary female on that tree. She 

 kept up a continual soliloquy, gentle, almost 

 sweet. It was not a call ; simply a little talk 

 with herself. 



One of the most familiar habits of this grace- 

 less bird is his delight in a mob. No sooner 

 does anything occur to disturb the even tenor 



