yellow line before the eye, and yellow upon the 

 shoulder. 



There seems to be a sparrow of some kind for 

 every variety of land between the poles. Moun- 

 tain-tops, seaside marshes, inland prairies, 

 swamps, woods, pastures— everywhere, from In- 

 dian Eiver to the Yukon, a sparrow nests. Yet 

 one can hardly associate sparrows with marshes, 

 for they seem out of place in houseless, treeless, 

 half-submerged stretches. These are the haunts 

 of the shyer, more secretive birds. Here the 

 ducks, rails, bitterns, coots,— birds that can 

 wade and swim, eat frogs and crabs, — seem natu- 

 rally at home. The sparrows are perchers, grain- 

 eaters, free-fliers, and singers ; and they, of all 

 birds, are the friends and neighbors of man. 

 This is no place for them. The effect of this 

 marsh life upon the flight and song of these two 

 species was very marked. Both showed unmis- 

 takable vocal powers which long ago would have 

 been developed under the stimulus of human 

 listeners ; and during all my stay (so long have 

 they crept and skulked about through the low 

 marsh paths) I did not see one rise a hundred 

 feet into the air, nor fly straight away for a 

 [58] 



