68 
[February, 
AMERICAN AGRICULTURIST. 
FEEDING THE 
[COPYRIGHT SECURED.] 
SPARROWS .—Drawn and Engraved for the American Agriculturist. 
What a pleasant dinner party we have here! Five lit¬ 
tle guests in their glossy brown coats, all with the 
choicest manners, never eating with their knives, never 
sticking out their elbows, never speaking with their 
mouths full, and never forgetting to bob their heads po¬ 
litely every time they are asked to take any thing. They’re 
very timid, poor little creatures, because, you see, they 
are foreigners, and not quite used to the ways of the 
country. Perhaps they have taken a bird’s-eye view of 
English geographies, and learned that the natives of 
America are red-skinned savages. But if they only had 
courage enough to look at their hosts and hostesses, they 
soon would discover the mistake. Gentleness creates 
gentleness. The birds make every heart, here as tender 
as their own. Plow cautious and still the children are, 
lest they be disturbed! How the baby longs to poke 
them lovingly in their eyes, and how the little one near 
the window half hides and half comes out to look at 
the wonderful English sparrows, papa brought home only 
a week ago 1 Ho kept them in a big cage for a while, 
and then let th»m hop about on the piazza. This is the 
first time they have been asked in to dine, and see how 
willingly they come! To be sure there was a little 
shrinking at first, a little show of shyness, and a little 
too much ceremony as to which one should enter first. 
But perhaps that was only a part of their good breeding. 
After this visit they will feci quite like members of the 
family. They will go in and out of their cage in the 
most light-hearted and familiar way possible, and con¬ 
sider the raising of a window as the most pressing of 
invitations. Pussy, so far, has shown no desire to harm 
them; blit when they arc so very close, Eddy thinks it 
rather more prudent to hold her in his arms—not tightly 
enough to hurt her, but just so as to prevent her from 
slipping through. He has heard of the Happy Family in 
the menagerie, and confidently looks forward to the day 
when Pussy shall walk about the lawn with a sparrow 
perched on each ear,and perhaps another swinging blithe¬ 
ly on her tail. Why not ? A great many English sparrows 
have of late years been brought to this country. They 
evidently like the climate. They build their nests, raise 
their families, and, full of life, full of business, twitter 
merrily together just as if in the writing on the blue 
sky overhead they read their naturalization papers. 
Naturalization may be a big word to some of our young 
folks, but it is in the dictionary as well as in the air we 
breath. At .first, only a few of these sparrows were to 
bo seen—a dozen in this park, a dozen in that, and some¬ 
times a few on sale at five dollars a pair. “They would 
destroy the worms now infesting our cities,” said the 
knowing ones, “but it would bo quite impossible to 
raise them here on account of the boys.” Did the boys 
hear the slander and resolve never to deserve it, or did 
the gentle, stranger sparrows plead their own cause? 
Certain it is that the little creatures multiplied and pros¬ 
pered. Unharmed, they flew in and out among the 
roughest children of the street, hopping almost upon 
their feet, hurrying past their heads, and twittering by 
dozens within many an easy stone’s throw. Summer 
and winter they stay and chirp their happy notes. “The 
children are our friends,” they say ; “even the law is 
good to us. ■ It fines every man heavily who shoots or 
ensnares us. It lends its aid to give us all this world of 
sunshine to live in—twitter, twitter—we’ll do all we can 
for them—we will, we will.” And so they do. They 
destroy worms; they brighten our parks and cities; 
they make busy people, hurrying along the pavements, 
stop to admire their beauty and study their interesting 
ways; they cheer up dusty old ivy vines and sickly city 
gardens. Better than all, they awaken in the hearts of 
young and old gentle, kindly thoughts wherever they go. 
A Oseap 3'Ileplaaiiat. 
At the public sale of a menagerie, lately held at Tren» 
ton, New Jersey, an elephant was put up to the highest 
bidder, and, as no one needed him, was just about being 
“knocked down” by the auctioneer for a very small 
sum, when a bystander resolved to purchase the monster 
himself rather than lose such a bargain. “ Why, it’s the 
cheapest, thing I ever heard of!” he exclaimed, gleefully, 
when, after his adding “an ’af” to the few dollars al¬ 
ready offered, he was declared to bo the purchaser. “ I’ll 
put the creature in my barn for a day or so, and make a* 
good thing of it.” So that night Master Elephant was 
tied in the barn—a pretty strong barn it was, too—and 
toward daylight he amused himself by trying to break it 
to pieces. He succeeded so well in this little piece of 
playfulness that it was found necessary to remove him to 
a stronger building. That night he again became rest¬ 
less, broke his fastenings, and dashed around at such a 
rate that the barn was soon one of the most thoroughly 
ventilated buildings in America. The total extent ot 
damage done in the two nights was over five hundred 
dollars ; and it is currently reported that, somebody is 
extremely tired of his bargain, and advises all his friends 
never, on any account., to be tempted to buy a cheap 
elephant. The rule is a very safe one to follow, never 
to buy anything simply because it is cheap. 
