OUR FRIENDS, THE BIRDS. Of 
flowering currant bush in one corner of our garden. I 
happened to discover it, but they were so shy I 
never dared go near the nest for fear they would leave 
it. I looked up their habits in several books and found 
that they rear two and sometimes three broods in a sin- 
gle season. The male bird sings until the last brood 
leaves the nest.” 
““Querist ” asked: ‘‘ Have you ever noticed how 
neat and pretty our little friend looks beside the Eng- 
lish Sparrows?” 
“Baby” said: “I know him by his striped vest, 
and the blotch on his breast, as well as by his light 
brown color.” 
‘“T call him a prophet,” said Laura, “‘ because he 
comes so early, and his cheerful notes are among the 
first of spring’s messages, even when snow has not yet 
disappeared.” 
‘““T have often seen one in the winter,’ remarked 
“Artist.” 
“He is a great favorite with the poets,” said Miss 
Sweet. ‘‘Sometimes I think that he must be a poet 
himself, in Bird land, for there is no other bird who has 
such wonderful variations in song, and his voice may 
be heard from March through October. I will recite 
Lucy Larcom’s sweet verses concerning him.” 
Sunshine set to music! 
Hear the Sparrow sing! 
In his note is freshness 
Of the newborn spring; 
