boy with "clappers." Nevertheless I could 111 

 spare them from my family. They were the 

 first birds I knew, my earliest home being so 

 generous in its chimneys as to afford lodgings to 

 several pairs of them. This summer they again 

 share my fireside, squeaking, scratching, and 

 thundering in the flue as they used to when, real 

 goblins, they came scrambling down to peek and 

 spy at me. I should miss them from the chim- 

 ney as 1 should the song-sparrows from the 

 meadow. They are above the grate, to be sure, 

 while I am in front of it ; but we live in 

 the same house, and there is only a wall be- 

 tween us. 



If the chimney would be a dark, dead hole 

 without the swifts, how empty the summer sky 

 would be were they not skimming, darting, wig- 

 gling across every bright hour of it ! They 

 are tireless fliers, feeding, bathing, love-making, 

 and even gathering the twigs for their nests on 

 the wing, never alighting, in fact, after leaving 

 the chimney until they return to it. They rest 

 while flying. Every now and then you will see 

 them throw their wings up over their heads till 

 the tips almost touch, and, in twos or threes, 

 [133] 



