CHILDREN'S COLUMN. 
225 
is a queer fellow, trained at a circus, I should think, as he is 
quite an acrobat, creeps up the rails, and seems to stand on his 
head sometimes. Robins rarely come — I wonder why ! — but 
they generally make us a bow, too, before turning tail. Then 
the starlings are so greedy and eat so fast, and won’t let any 
of the little birds have any, that if it was not for their beautiful 
glossy coats I would chase them away. Every morning at nine 
o’clock all these birds are waiting and watching, and again at 
1.30 they come and ask me not to forget them, and if I do 
and put out their food late, they won’t eat it, but leave it till 
morning. 
But those naughty boys with stones and catapults, how I 
would like to catch them by a foot ! One of my little pen- 
sioners this year has a doubled-up foot, and for several 3 r ears a 
poor starling came with half its leg gone. That must have 
been a trap, but the man that set it was once a boy, and pro- 
bably began to be cruel long ago. It would be better to kill 
the poor little birds, rather than torture them. 
I have forgotten to tell you about a very clever trick of a 
sparrow at the beginning of this winter. My board used to be 
brown, but was painted red, and, as I told you, the birds were 
afraid of it. One, however, after sitting and looking at it for 
some time, suddenly flew up and over it, fluttering its wings 
a few seconds and scattering the crumbs in all directions, pro- 
ceeded to pick them up. This same sparrow did this several 
days, but I have never seen it done since. You will be surprised 
to hear we live in a town, but then that town is Bath, where, 
though you live in a street, your back windows may look out on 
the country. Eurydice. 
Our Little Dick Sparrow. — I have just joined the Sel- 
borne Society, and after reading some of your papers and 
thinking about it, I came to the conclusion that I had belonged 
to it before the Society was formed. (My father says this is 
a bull.) But with your permission I will tell you a little story 
that I think will illustrate what I mean. My sister (who is a 
little older than I am, but like me is very fond of animals, par- 
ticularly birds) several years ago was walking in the garden, 
when she saw a little sparrow hopping about. He seemed so 
tame she thought there must be something the matter with 
him. He tumbled into a hole, and she picked him out and 
took him into the house, where he made himself quite at home. 
He did not try to fly away, but would hop about in the garden, 
follow us about the house, up and down stairs or anywhere. 
When we were at dinner, he would fly on to the table and help 
himself. It did not matter whether it was a tart or a joint of 
roast beef, he would always have his share of it ; and from the 
first he was not afraid of strangers. Sometimes Dick would fly 
■on to the top of my father’s head and scratch his hair about till 
he had made a nice little nest, and lay himself comfortably 
