I concluded that the birds of the roost were 

 strictly Bostonians. One evening, however, about 

 a week later, as I was upon this bridge coming 

 from Cambridge, a flock of sparrows whizzed 

 past me, dipped over the rail to the water, 

 swung up above the wall of houses, and disap- 

 peared toward the roost. They were on their 

 way from Cambridge, from the classic elms of 

 Harvard campus, who knows, to the elms of the 

 ancient burial-ground. 



It was iive that April morning when the first 

 sparrow left the roost. By half-past five the 

 trees were empty, except for the few birds whose 

 hunting-ground included the cemetery. By this 

 time the city, too, had yawned, and rubbed its 

 eyes, and tumbled out of bed. 



[106] 



