86 BIEDS AND POETS 



took to be a young male, one October morning, just 

 as the sun was rising. It was pitched very low, 

 like a half-forgotten air, but it was very sweet. It 

 was the song of the vesper sparrow and the white- 

 throat ia one. In his breeding haunts he must be 

 a superior songster, but he is very chary of his 

 music while on his travels. 



The sparrows are all meek and lowly birds. They 

 are of the grass, the fences, the low bushes, the 

 weedy wayside places. Nature has denied them all 

 brilliant tints, but she has given them sweet and 

 musical voices. Theirs are the quaint and simple 

 lullaby songs of childhood. The white-throat has 

 a timid, tremulous strain, that issues from the low 

 bushes or from behind the fence, where its cradle is 

 hid. The song sparrow modulates its simple ditty 

 as softly as the lining of its own nest. The vesper 

 sparrow has only peace and gentleness in its strain. 



What pretty nests, too, the sparrows build ! Can 

 anything be more exquisite than a sparrow's nest 

 under a grassy or mossy bank 1 What care the bird 

 has taken not to disturb one straw or spear of grass, 

 or thread of moss! You cannot approach it and 

 put your hand into it without violating the place 

 more or less, and yet the little architect has wrought 

 day after day and left no marks. There has been 

 an excavation, and yet no grain of earth appears to 

 have been moved. If the nest had slowly and 

 silently grown like the grass and the moss, it could 

 not have been more nicely adjusted to its place and 

 surroundings. There is absolutely nothing to tell 



