excitedly, she said--

"Run, George, there is a cat or some other enemy at the nest."

Without a moment's delay the lad seized a cane, and running along the
garden-walk and jumping over flower-beds and bushes, he came to the
scene of the disturbance. He knew well where the nest was, and looking
to that spot he was horrified to see the snake bending over it with
arched neck and head, preparing to devour the helpless young
song-sparrows. Springing fearlessly forward like a hound, George smote
the snake on the head, and that one blow was enough. But grasping its
tail he jerked it back from the nest, and stamped upon its head, to
make sure that the life was gone. Then lifting it across his cane he
went to the fence, and flung it over in indignant disgust.

Oh, how the parent song-sparrows rejoiced. The mother flew to the nest
to examine and fondle her young, while the father-bird went up on the
twig of a white rose-bush and sang a rapturous song of deliverance.

"Ever since then the male sparrow has shown his gratitude to George in
a truly wonderful manner. When he goes into the garden the sparrow
will fly to him, sometimes alighting on his head, at other times on his
shoulder, all the while pouring out a tumultuous song of praise and
gratitude."

* * * * *

"How is it, Richard," said Jenny one day, "that nearly all these great
creatures called mankind look upon us as if we had very little
understanding in our head? Is it because we are so little and wear
feathers?"

"Oh, no, it is because our language is different. In fact, they really
think we do not speak at all, and it seems to them that where there is
no speech there is little or no thought."

"What language does Master George speak, Richard?"

"English, dear, a beautiful language when well spoken and especially
when well sung."

"And what language do we speak, Richard?"

Sloping his head a little to the side, Richard thought for a moment and
then replied with a funny twinkle in his eye--

"Our language is Song-Sparrowish."

"Dear me," said Jenny, "it must be greater than English, when it needs
such a big word. But Master George understands it, doesn't he?"

"He does indeed, he does, because he is well acquainted with us. I
overheard him say the other day that he understood our ways well, and
that our musical language and gratitude were to him a great delight."

"Here he comes," exclaimed Jenny. "See, he opens the