Square station pointed to five minutes to fi.ve, 

 and just before the hour struck, two birds 

 launched out and spun away. 



The exodus had commenced. The rest of 

 Boston was not stirring yet. It was still early ; 

 hardly a flush of warmth had washed the pearl. 

 But the sparrows had many matters to attend to 

 before all the milkmen and bakers got abroad : 

 they must take their morning dust-bath, for one 

 thing, in the worn places between the cobble- 

 stones, before the street-sprinkler began its 

 sloppy rounds. 



There was a constant whirl out of the tree- 

 tops now. Occasionally a bird flew off alone, 

 but most of them left in small flocks, just as I 

 should see them return in the evening. Doubt- 

 less the members of these flocks were the birds 

 belonging to certain neighborhoods, those that 

 nested and fed about certain squares, large door- 

 yards, and leafy courts. They may indeed have 

 been families that were hatched last summer. 



The birds that left singly went away, as a rule, 

 over the roofs toward the denser business sec- 

 tions of the city, while the bands, as I had no- 

 ticed them come in at night, took the opposite 

 [102] 



