MEMORIES OF A MAY MORNING. 51 



sparrows my '' quaker birds," when first I saw them and 

 did not know their name. I admired their exquisitely- 

 neat plumage of slate-grey, white breast, darker head, 

 flesh-colored bills and legs and feet, with some snow- 

 white feathers at the tail, and the edges of the long 

 shaft-feathers of their wings also tipped with white. 

 They looked so tidy and dedicate, as if no speck or spot 

 could sully their quakerly neat dress. 



These birds usually appear in company with the small 

 brown and the chestnut-crowned sparrows,* with which 

 they seem to be on the most friendly terms, mixing with 

 them as they flit about the garden seeking for seeds 

 among the dry amaranths and other weeds. 



The snow-birds and their friends, the chipping spar- 

 rows, are busy now in the bushes in the grove building 

 their nests. In this they have no time to lose, as the 

 season is so late. 



A lively burst of song greets me just above my head, 

 in the angle of the beams of the veranda. How well I 

 know the cheerful notes ! It is the dear little brown 

 house wren's song. 



Yes, there they are, the bright little couple. They 

 look down shyly at me from their coigne of vantage 

 above ; and then, as if quite sure it is an old and trusted 

 friend they burst out with a joyous chorus of greeting, 

 as if to say : 



" Here we are again ; glad to see you alive and well, 



* Chipping sparrow — Spizella socialis. 



