80 
SPARROW. 
cautious, cunning, and voracious birds. They are said to 
be trained in Persia to hunt butterflies, such being one of 
the royal sports there. In the spring of the year contests 
among themselves are frequently to be witnessed. Two at 
first begin; a third comes up and joins in the fray, when he 
is presently attacked by a fourth. Others stand still and 
look on and behold the war. 
‘Suave mari magno turbantibus sequora ventis; , 
the din and clamour increases until some think it time to 
retreat, and this possibly has the effect of breaking up the 
party, and so the ‘emeute 5 is quieted. As in case of the 
modern‘duello/ no danger is done to either life or limb—the 
‘honour 5 of the parties is easily satisfied without; a hostile 
‘meeting 5 and a ‘sham fight 5 are quite sufficient, without 
ulterior result. 
Sparrows are very fond of bathing, and also of dusting 
themselves in the roads, at all seasons of the year-, as well 
as of sunning themselves, lying on one side in some warm 
and sheltered place, such as a gravel-walk, the roof of a 
house, or even against the wall of one. When not engaged 
in feeding, they perch on trees, bushes, and hedges, the tops 
of stacks and houses, walls and wood. At night they repose 
under the eaves of houses, about chimneys, in holes and crevices 
of buildings, in bushes, the sides of straw-stacks, and among 
ivy, or other evergreen plants with which walls are covered. 
They often live in their nests in the cold weather, repairing 
them with straw and feathers, either for their own warmth, 
or providing thus early for their future family. 
‘It is often remarked, 5 says Dr. Stanley, ‘what impudent 
birds are London Sparrows! and not without reason. Born 
and bred in the bustle of the town, they must either live 
and jostle with the crowd, or look down from the house-tops 
and die of hunger. Naturally enough, they prefer the former; 
and all our London readers will, we are sure, testify to the 
cool intrepidity with which this familiar bird will pounce 
upon a bit of bread, or some other tempting morsel which 
happens to catch its eye upon the pavement, and with what 
triumph and exultation it bears it off to its mate, seated on 
some window-sill or coping-stone above, or followed, perhaps, 
by three or four disappointed companions, who were a moment 
too late in seizing the spoil. 5 
