Granary, a stone's throw up the street 1 I passed 

 the Old Granary yard on my way to the roost 

 and found the trees empty. I searched the 

 limbs with my glass ; there was not a sparrow to 

 be seen. Still, the Granary is the less exposed 

 of the two. It may not formerly have been so ; 

 but at present high sheltering walls bend about 

 the trees like a well. Years ago, perhaps, when 

 the sparrows began to roost in the trees at 

 King's Chapel, the Old Granary elms were more 

 open to the winds, and now force of habit and 

 example keep the birds returning to the first 

 lodge. 



Back they come, no matter what the weather. 

 There are a thousand cozy corners into which a 

 sparrow might creep on a stormy night, where 

 even the winds that know their way through 

 Boston streets could not search him out. But 

 the instinct to do as he always has done is as 

 strong in the sparrow, in spite of his love for 

 pioneering, as it is in the rest of us. He was 

 brought here to roost as soon as he could fly, 

 when the leaves were on and the nights deli- 

 cious. If the leaves go and the nights change, 

 what of that? Here he began, here he will con- 

 [104] 



