busy little brown bodies jostled and 

 twittered and ate ravenously of the 

 viands provided, while thankful heads 

 were raised over the water cups to let 

 that cool liquid trickle down thirsty 

 throats. It was a lovely sight and 

 everyone in the room kept breathlessly 

 still, but at last some noise outside 

 alarmed the timid visitors and they 

 whirred away in a small cloud, leaving 

 but a remnant of the plenteous repast 

 behind. 



Several of the tiny creatures becom- 

 ing puzzled flew about the room in dis- 

 tress, trying to get away, and one little 

 fellow bumped his head violently 

 against a glass and fell ignominiously 

 into a spittoon. He was rescued and 

 laid tenderly on the window sill to dry, 

 a very bedraggled and exhausted bit 

 of creation. It was interesting to watch 

 the effect of this disaster upon every 

 one in the office, mcluding Mr. Finch 

 himself. 



Gentlemen and ladies vied with each 

 other in showing attentive hospitality 

 to the injured guest. He had his head 

 rubbed and his wings lovingly stroked, 

 and being too ill to resent these famil- 

 iarities, he soon became accustomed to 

 them. He was finally domiciled in a 

 small basket and grew very chipper 

 and tame indeed before his departure, 

 which was after several days of such 

 luxury and petting as would quite turn 

 the head of anything less sensible than 

 a finch. 



It is said the gentleman who makes 

 these birds his grateful pensioners buys 

 ten pounds of seed at a time, and an- 

 other gentleman and his wife, who re- 

 side at the Metropole, deal out their 

 rations with so lavish a hand that their 

 windows are fairly besieged with feath- 

 ered beggars clamoring for food. 



In a neighbor's yard I noticed always 

 a small bare spot of ground. No mat- 

 ter how high the snow might drift 

 around it, this small brown patch of 

 earth lay dark and bare. 



"Why do you keep that little corner 

 swept?" I inquired. 



"Oh, that is the birds' dining-room," 

 was the answer, and then I noticed 

 scraps of bread and meat and scattered 

 crumbs and seeds. And as many times 

 as I may look from my windows I 

 always see from one to five fluffy 

 bunches at work there stuf^ng vigor- 

 ously. 



Many of our teachers have made the 

 lot of our common birds their daily 

 study and delight. In the oldest kin- 

 dergarten in the city the window sills 

 are raised and the birds' food scattered 

 upon a level with the glass, so that 

 every action of the little creatures can 

 be watched with ease by the children 

 within. 



In numbers of homes and in many of 

 our business offices the daily needs of 

 our little feathered brothers are 

 thoughtfully cared for. 



Let this feeling grow and this inter- 

 est deepen in the hearts of Denverites, 

 especially in the children's hearts. It 

 will make this city a veritable paradise 

 as the summer approaches, "full of 

 the song of birds." It will make of it a 

 heaven in the course of time, for not 

 only the humble finch and snowbird, 

 but for nature's most beautiful and aris- 

 tocratic choristers. 



"To-day is the day of salvation." To- 

 day is the very best day of the best 

 month in which to consider the needs 

 of these poor which, thank God, "we 

 have always with us." — Anne C. Steele, 

 in Dernier Evening Post, Feb. j, i8gg. 



116 



