The Lay of the Band 
hawks, and owls leave! Rights or no, hay or no, I 
don’t jump at my meadow mice any more, for fear of 
killing one who has taken a cup of cold water from 
me off the plank, or has had my helping hand out of 
the depths of the spring. 
It is wholesome to be the good Samaritan to a 
meadow mouse, to pour out, even waste, a little of 
the oil and wine of sympathy on the humblest of our 
needy neighbors, 
Here are the chimney swallows. One can look with 
complacency, with gratitude, indeed, upon the swal- 
lows of other chimneys, as they hawk in the sky ; yet, 
when the little creatures, so useful, but so uncombed 
and unfumigated, set up their establishments in your 
chimney, to the jeopardy of the whole house, then 
you need an experience like mine. 
I had had a like experience years before, when the 
house did not belong to me. Now, however, the 
house was mine, and if it became infested because of 
the swallows, I could not move away; so I felt like 
burning them in the chimney, bag and baggage. 
There were four nests, as nearly as I could make 
out, and, from the frequent squeakings, I knew they 
were all filled with young. Then one day, when the 
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