at hand. A gentleman, an Englishman, proposed an importation
of sparrows, and soon hundreds of these brown-coated little fellows were
set loose in different cities. They at once became public pets. Little
houses were nailed up on trees and balconies for them to nest in,
sidewalks and window-sills were covered with crumbs for their breakfast,
and boys were forbidden to stone them or molest them in any way.

Now although the sparrow is very willing to feed on bread-crumbs and
seeds, and save itself the trouble of hunting for its dinner, by a wise
provision of nature the little ones, until they are fully fledged, can
eat only worms and small flies and bugs. As the sparrows have three or
four broods during the warm weather, they always have little ones to
feed at the very season when worms and other insects destructive to
vegetation are the most plentiful. An English naturalist states that in
watching a pair of sparrows feeding their little ones, he saw them bring
food to the nest from thirty to forty times every day, and each time
from two to six caterpillars or worms were brought. It is easy to see
from this estimate how quickly the tree worms would disappear, as proved
to be the case in the cities where the sparrows were set free.

A very few years after they were introduced not a worm was to be seen.
The trees now grow undisturbed in their leafy beauty all through the
summer, and many children will scarcely remember the time when their
mothers went about the streets where shade trees grew carrying open
umbrellas in sunny days and starry evenings to protect themselves from
the constantly dropping worms.

It is no wonder that every one is gratefully affectionate to the
sparrow. They are very social little birds, and are entirely happy amid
the noise and dirt and confusion of the crowded street. They are bold
and saucy too, and will stand in the pathway pecking at some stray crust
of bread until nearly run over, when they hop away, scolding furiously
at being disturbed. They are fond of bathing, and after a rain may be
seen in crowds fluttering and splashing in the pools of water in the
street. The cold winter does not molest them. They continue as plump and
jolly and independent as ever, and chirp and hop about as merrily on a
snowy day as during summer.

In the New York city parks these little foreigners are carefully
provided for. Prettily built rustic houses may be seen all over Central
Park, put up for their especi