flocks of crows slept nightly throughout the win- 

 ter ; but these, besides now and again a tempo- 

 rary resting-place, a mere caravansary along the 

 route of the migrants, were all I had happened 

 upon. Here was another, bordering a city 

 street, overhanging the street, with a blazing 

 electric light to get into bed by ! 



Protected by the barrel from the jostle on the 

 sidewalk, I waited by the ancient graveyard 

 until the electric lights grew bright, until every 

 fussing sparrow was quiet, until I could see only 

 little gray balls and blurs in the trees through 

 the misty drizzle that came down with the night. 

 Then I turned toward my own snug roost, five 

 flights up, next the roof, and just a block away, 

 as the sparrows fly, from this roost of theirs. I 

 was glad to have them so near me. 



The windows of my roost look out over roofs 

 of slate, painted tin, and tarry pebbles, into 

 a chimney-fenced plot of sky. Occasionally, 

 during the winter, a herring-gull from the har- 

 bor swims into this bit of smoky blue ; frequently 

 a pigeon, sometimes a flock, sails past; and in 

 the summer dusk, after the swallows quit it, a 

 city-haunting night-hawk climbs out of the for- 

 [95] 



