IN FEATHERS A AD FUR. 139 
fastened up in the fork of a tree, to the gorgeous white villa, trimmed 
with green, and elevated on a stout post in a back-yard. 
They put these houses up high, because these little fellows 
don't need front steps to get in and out, and they have some ene- 
mies that do, such as cats and bad boys. 
I can't begin to tell you how many kinds of houses there were, 
but anyway, they were all ready when the strangers arrived and were 
let loose in the city to find homes for themselves. Of course they 
found the snug houses at once, and bushels of food every way they 
turned, so they settled themselves without further trouble, furnished 
the houses — principally with bedding — and began to raise their 
families. 
Everybody was delighted, unless it was the worm family. I 
don't suppose they liked it very well, because they didn't have so 
easy a time as before. If Mamma Worm showed her green head 
out of doors she was apt to be snapped up in a hard little bill, and 
stuffed down the throat of a hungry little baby, and naturally, she 
didn't enjoy it. 
But their good time was past. Their lively little enemies soon 
had big families of hungry children, and the children grew up and 
were able to hunt for themselves, and then they raised families for 
themselves. And when the weather grew cold, and the worm 
family were all snugly asleep in their cozy little hid-away houses, 
the people scattered food out of the doors and windows for the Spar- 
row family, (I don't need to tell you New York children their name,) 
so that they would not get hungry and home-sick, and go away. 
And when Spring came, and the worm family came out as good as 
new, prepared to have a nice time, as their forefathers had done, 
there were their enemies all ready for them. They were snapped up 
and disposed of by the hundreds, and thousands, and millions. Mr. 
and Mrs. Sparrow had very little trouble about their marketing, I 
can tell you. All they had to do was to hop around in their own 
tree, and help themselves. 
But after a few years of this sort of thing, the worms got 
discouraged — or else eaten up — and there wasn't one to be seen. 
But the Sparrows grew thicker and tamer, for no one was allowed 
to kill one. And the trees came out beautiful and green as of old, 
and the whole big city feels very grateful to the pretty little worm 
hunters from England. 
Now the whole city is full of them. They fly about the streets, 
