AN ABANDONED HOME. 
ELANORA KINSLEY MARBLE. 
*' T TELL," said Jenny Sparrow one 
IA I fine day in April, as she flut- 
YY tered from bough to bough 
in a maple tree near my 
study-window, "spring is advancing 
and already the housewives are bus- 
tling about busy from morning till 
night. Such fetching and carrying of 
grass and straw and feathers ! Mamma 
concluded to build a new house this 
spring but papa said the old homestead 
would do, with new furnishings. Papa 
always has his way; he's such a tyrant. 
I'm a fortunate creature that I have no 
such cares, I'm sure. Mamma says I 
may as well sing and fly high while 
youth and beauty last, for my troubles 
will begin soon enough. Troubles ! 
The idea of my having trouble! Old 
people must croak, I suppose, and 
would really be disappointed if their 
children failed to experience the trials 
they have. 
" I often wonder if papa strutted and 
bowed and swelled himself out as my 
suitors do, when he courted mamma. 
Now he does nothing but scold, and I 
never make an unusually fine toilet 
but he shakes his head, and lectures 
mamma on the sin of idleness and 
vanity. I'm not vain, I'm sure. I only 
feel strong and happy, and when I'm 
challenged by a neighbor's sons and 
their ugly sisters for a long flight or 
graceful curve, I would be a silly 
creature indeed if I didn't display my 
accomplishments to good advantage. 
" There, now, is the son of our nearest 
neighbor twittering on that roof op- 
posite and trying to attract my atten- 
tion. He prides himself on being a 
direct descendant of one of the 
sparrows first imported into this coun- 
try from England, so we call him Mr. 
Britisher. He has the most affected 
way of turning his head on one side 
and glancing at me. I can't help ad- 
miring his engaging manners, though, 
and there is a certain boldness in his 
address which the rest of my admirers 
lack, much to their disadvantage. He's 
going to flyover here presently, I know 
by the way he is strutting about and 
fluttering his wings. Talk about the 
vanity of my sex ! Gracious ! He is 
priding himself now on the manner 
in which his toes turn out, and the 
beauty of his plumage, and how much 
broader is that black ring about his 
throat than those on some of his neigh- 
bors. Here he comes. I'll pretend to 
be looking another way. 
"Ah, is that you, Mr. • Britisher? 
How you startled me. Yes, 'tis a lovely 
day. After the storms of winter, the 
warm sunshine is a blessing to us little 
creatures who live under the eaves." 
" True, Miss Jenny, true. But with 
companionship even the storms of 
winter can be borne cheerfully. Don't 
you agree with me that a loving home 
is a very desirable thing?" 
"Oh, Mr. Britisher, how you talk! 
Have your parents been away from 
home, that you are so lonesome?" 
"You know they have not, Miss 
Jenny. You know full well that I was 
not speaking of /^z/kind of companion- 
ship. Permit me to sit beside you on 
that bough, for I have that to say 
which I desire shall not be overheard. 
The leaves even seem to have ears at 
this season of the year, and do a deal 
of whispering about the numerous 
courtships which they hear and see 
going on." 
" True, very true, Mr. Britisher," re- 
turned Miss Jenny, making room for 
him beside her on the limb. "There 
is a great amount of gossip going on 
just now in bird-land, I understand. 
Why, only the other day I heard — but 
ah — there is Mrs. Cowbird skulking 
below us, and no meaner bird flies, I 
think, than she. Fancy her laying her 
eggs in another bird's * nest, because 
she is too lazy to make one of her own! 
A tramp bird must do a great deal of 
gossiping, so be careful what you say." 
"She is not nearly such a mischief- 
maker as Mr. Blue Jay," replied Mr. 
Britisher, "nor half so impertinent. I 
heard him chattering with Mr. Black- 
bird the other day and he said all 
sparrows were alike to him. Fancy it! 
A field sparrow, vesper sparrow, swamp 
150 
