busy little brown bodies jostled and 
twittered and ate ravenously of the 
viands provided, while thankful heads 
were raised over the water cups to let 
that cool liquid trickle down thirsty 
throats. It was a lovely sight and 
everyone in the room kept breathlessly 
still, but at last some noise outside 
alarmed the timid visitors and they 
whirred away in a small cloud, leaving 
but a remnant of the plenteous repast 
behind. 
Several of the tiny creatures becom- 
ing puzzled flew about the room in dis- 
tress, trying to get away, and one little 
fellow bumped his head violently 
against a glass and fell ignominiously 
into a spittoon. He was rescued and 
laid tenderly on the window sill to dry, 
a very bedraggled and exhausted bit 
of creation. It was interesting to watch 
the effect of this disaster upon every 
one in the office, including Mr. Finch 
himself. 
Gentlemen and ladies vied with each 
other in showing attentive hospitality 
to the injured guest. He had his head 
rubbed and his wings lovingly stroked, 
and being too ill to resent these famil- 
iarities, he soon became accustomed to 
them. He was finally domiciled in a 
small basket and grew very chipper 
and tame indeed before his departure, 
which was after several days of such 
luxury and petting as would quite turn 
the head of anything less sensible than 
a finch. 
It is said the gentleman who makes 
these birds his grateful pensioners buys 
ten pounds of seed at a time, and an- 
other gentleman and his wife, who re- 
side at the Metropole, deal out their 
rations with so lavish a hand that their 
windows are fairly besieged with feath- 
ered beggars clamoring for food. 
In a neighbor's yard I noticed always 
a small bare spot of ground. No mat- 
ter how high the snow might drift 
around it, this small brown patch of 
earth lay dark and bare. 
"Why do you keep that little corner 
swept?" I inquired. 
"Oh, that is the birds' dining-room," 
was the answer, and then I noticed 
scraps of bread and meat and scattered 
crumbs and seeds. And as many times 
as I may look from my windows I 
always see from one to five fluffy 
bunches at work there stuffing vigor- 
ously. 
Many of our teachers have made the 
lot of our common birds their daily 
study and delight. In the oldest kin- 
dergarten in the city the window sills 
are raised and the birds' food scattered 
upon a level with the glass, so that 
every action of the little creatures can 
be watched with ease by the children 
within. 
In numbers of homes and in many of 
our business offices the daily needs of 
our little feathered brothers are 
thoughtfully cared for. 
Let this feeling grow and this inter- 
est deepen in the hearts of Denverites, 
especially in the children's hearts. It 
will make this city a veritable paradise 
as the summer approaches, "full of 
the song of birds." It will make of it a 
heaven in the course of time, for not 
only the humble finch and snowbird, 
but for nature's most beautiful and aris- 
tocratic choristers. 
"To-day is the day of salvation." To- 
day is the very best day of the best 
month in which to consider the needs 
of these poor which, thank God, "we 
have always with us." — Anne C. Steele, 
in Denver Evening Post, Feb. j, i8qq. 
116 
