"I like every kind of bird," said Florence Austin at the next meeting of the Society, "except the English sparrows. They are a perfect nuisance!"

"Why, what harm do they do?" Nellie asked.

"Harm!" said Florence; "you don't know any thing about it here in the country. We had to cut down a beautiful wisteria-vine that climbed over one side of our house because the sparrows would build their nests in it, and made such a dreadful noise in the morning that n.o.body on that side of the house could sleep. And they drive away all the other birds.

We used to have robins hopping over our lawn, and dear little yellow-birds used to build their nests in the pear-trees; but since the sparrows have got so thick, they have stopped coming. My father says the English sparrow is the most impudent bird that ever was hatched. He actually saw one s.n.a.t.c.h away a worm a robin had just dug up. I believe I hate sparrows!"

"I don't," said Nellie. "I have fed them all winter. They came to the dining-room window every morning, and waited for their breakfast; and a funny little woodp.e.c.k.e.r, blind of one eye, came with them sometimes."

"They do lots of good in our gardens," said Mollie, "digging up grubs and beetles. Papa told us so."

"There's n.o.body in this world so bad," said Susie, sagely, "but that you can find something good to say about them." At which kindly speech Aunt Ruth smiled approval.

"I think," she said, "this will be a good time to tell you a story about an English sparrow and a canary-bird I will call it

TUFTY AND THE SPARROW.

"One morning in April a young canary-bird whose name was Tufty escaped through an open window carelessly left open while he was out of his cage, and suddenly found himself, for the first time in his life, in the open air. He alighted first on an apple-tree in the yard, and then made a grand flight half-way to the top of the elm-tree.

"The sun was bright and the air so still that the light snow which had fallen in the night yet clung to the branches and twigs of the tree, and Tufty examined it with interest, thinking it pretty but rather cold as he poked it about with his bill, and tucked first one little foot, and then the other, under him to keep it warm. Presently he heard an odd little noise below him, and, looking down, saw on the trunk of the tree a bird about his own size, with wings and back of a steel-gray color, a white breast with a dash of dull red on it, and a long bill, with which he was making the noise Tufty had heard by tapping on the tree.

"'Good-morning!' said Tufty, who was of a friendly and social disposition, and was beginning to feel the need of company.

"'Morning!' said the woodp.e.c.k.e.r, very crisp and shorthand not so much as looking up to see who had spoken to him.

"If you had heard this talk you would have said Tufty called out: 'Peep!

peep!' and the woodp.e.c.k.e.r--but that's because you don't understand bird-language.

"'What are you doing down there?' said Tufty, continuing the conversation.

"'Getting my breakfast,' said the woodp.e.c.k.e.r.

"'Why, I had mine a long time ago!' said Tufty.

"He didn't in the least understand how that knocking on the tree was to bring Mr. Longbill's morning meal; but he was afraid to ask any more questions, the other had been so short with him.

"Just then he heard a hoa.r.s.e voice overhead saying, 'Come along! come along!' and, looking up, saw a monstrous black creature sailing above the tops of the trees. It was only a crow on his way to the swamp, and he was trying to hurry up his mate, that always would lag behind in that corn-field where there wasn't so much as a grain left; but Tufty, which by this time you must have discovered was a very ignorant bird, thought the black monster was calling _him_, and piped back feebly: 'I can't! I can't!' and was all of a tremble till Mr. Crow was quite out of sight.

"He sat quiet, looking a little pensive, for the fact was, he was beginning to feel lonely, when there flew past him a flock of brown birds chirping and chattering away at a brisk rate. 'Now for it!'

thought Tufty, 'here's plenty of good company;' and he spread his wings and flew after them as fast as he could. But he could not keep up with them, but, panting and weary, alighted on the roof of a house to rest.

And here he saw such a pretty sight; for on a sunny roof just below him were two snow-white pigeons. One was walking about in a very consequential way, his tail-feathers spread in the shape of a fan, and turning his graceful neck from side to side in quite a bewitching fashion. Just as Tufty alighted, the pretty dove began to call: 'Come, dear, come! Do, dear, do!' in such a sweet, soft, plaintive voice, as if his heart would certainly break if his dear _didn't_ come, that Tufty, who in his silly little pate never once doubted that it was he the lovely white bird was pining for, felt sorry to disappoint him, and piped back: 'Oh, if you please, I should like to ever so much! but you see I must catch up with those brown birds over there;' and, finding his wind had come back to him, he flew away. The pigeon, which had not even seen him, and had much more important business to attend to than to coax an insignificant little yellow-bird, went on displaying all his beauties, and crooning softly, 'Do, dear! do! do! do!'

"Tufty had no trouble in finding the brown birds, for long before he came to the roof of the barn where they had alighted he heard their loud voices in angry dispute; and they made such an uproar, and seemed so fractious and ill-tempered, that Tufty felt afraid to join them, but lingered on a tree near by.

"Presently one of them flew over to him. She was a young thing--quite fresh and trim-looking for a sparrow.

"'Good-morning!' she said, hopping close to him and looking him all over with her bright little eyes,

"'Good-morning!' said Tufty, as brisk as you please.

"'Now, I wonder where you come from and what you call yourself,' said the sparrow. 'I never saw a yellow-bird like you before. How pretty the feathers grow on your head!' and she gave a friendly nip to Tufty's top-knot.

"Tufty thought she was getting rather familiar on so short an acquaintance, but he answered her politely, told her his name, and that he came from the house where he had always lived, and was out to take an airing.

"'I want to know!' said the sparrow. 'Well, my name is Brownie. Captain Bobtail's Brownie, they call me, because Brownie is such a common name in our family. It's pleasant out-of-doors, isn't it? Oh, never mind the fuss over there!'--for Tufty's attention was constantly diverted to the scene of the quarrel--'they are always at it, scolding and fighting.

Come, let's you and I have a good time!'

"'What is the fuss about?' said Tufty.

"'A nest,' said Brownie, contemptuously. 'Ridiculous, isn't it? Snow on the ground, and not time to build this two weeks; but you see, _he_ wants to keep the little house on top of the pole lest some other bird should claim it, and _she_ wants to build in the crotch of the evergreen, and the neighbors are all there taking sides. She has the right of it--the tree is much the prettier place; but dear me! she might just as well give up first as last, for he's sure to have his way--husbands are such tyrants!' said Captain Bobtail's Brownie, with a coquettish turn of her head; 'but come, now, what shall we do?'

"'I'm too cold to do any thing,' said Tufty, dolefully.

"The sun was hidden by a cloud and a cold wind was blowing, and the house-bird, accustomed to a stove-heated room, was shivering.

"'Take a good fly,' said Brownie; 'that will warm you,'

"'But I'm hungry,' piped Tufty.

"'All right!' said Brownie. 'I know a place where there's a free lunch set out every day for all the birds that will come--bread-crumbs, seeds, and lovely cracked corn. Come along! you'll feel better after dinner,'

"So they flew, and they flew, and Brownie was as kind as possible, and stopped for a rest whenever Tufty was tired, and chatted so agreeably and pleasantly, that before they reached their journey's end Tufty had quite fallen in love with her. Then, too, the sun was shining again, and the brisk exercise of flying had set the little bird's blood in motion, so that he was warm again, but oh, so hungry!

"They came at last to a brown cottage with a broad piazza, and it was on the roof of this piazza that a feast for the birds was every day spread.

But as they flew round the house Tufty became very much excited.

"'Stop, Brownie!' he cried; 'let me look at this place! Surely I've been here before. That red curtain, that flower-stand in the window, that--Oh! oh! there's my own little house! Why, Captain Bobtail's Brownie, you've brought me home!'

"Now, all this time Tufty's mistress had been in great trouble. As soon as she discovered her loss she ran out-of-doors, holding up the empty cage and calling loudly on her little bird to return. But he was high up in the elm-tree watching the woodp.e.c.k.e.r, and, if he heard her call, paid no attention to it. Very soon he flew after the sparrows, and she lost sight of him. Not a mouthful of breakfast could the poor child eat.

"'I shall never see my poor little Tufty again, mamma!' she said. 'I saw him flying straight for the swamp, and he never can find his way back!'

and she cried as if her heart would break.

"In the middle of the forenoon her brother Jack called to her from the foot of the stairs:--

"'What will you give me, Kittie,' he said, 'if I will tell you where Tufty is?'

"'O Jack! do you know? Have you seen him? Where? where?' cried the little girl, coming downstairs in a great hurry.

"'Be quiet!' said Jack. 'Now, don't get excited; your bird is all right, though I'm sorry to say he's in rather low company,' And he led her to the dining-room window that looked into the garden, and there, sure enough, was Tufty on a lilac-bush. Brownie was there too. She was hopping about and talking in a most earnest and excited manner. It was easy to see that she was using all her powers of persuasion to coax Tufty not to go back to his old home, but to help her build a little house out-of-doors, where they could set up housekeeping together.

"Kittie knew just what to do. She ran for the cage and for a sprig of dried pepper-gra.s.s (of all the good things she gave her bird to eat, he liked pepper-gra.s.s best), and, standing in the open door-way, called: 'Tufty! Tufty!' He gave a start, a little flutter of his wings, and then, with one glad cry of recognition, and without so much as a parting look at poor Brownie, flew straight for the door, and alighted on the top of his cage.

"'How strangely things come about, mamma?' Kittie said that evening as they talked over this little incident. 'Jack has laughed at me all winter for feeding the sparrows, and called them hateful, quarrelsome things, and said I should get nicely paid next summer when they drove away all the pretty song-birds that come about the house. And now, don't you see, mamma, one of the sparrows I have fed all winter--I knew her right away by a funny little dent in her breast--has done me such good service? Why, I am paid a hundred thousand times over for all I have ever done for the sparrows.'"

"And what became of poor Brownie?" Nellie asked. "I almost hoped Tufty would stay out with her, she was such a good little sparrow."

"She lingered about the garden for a while, making a plaintive little noise; but when the family of Brownies came to dinner she ate her allowance, and flew away with them, apparently in good spirits. But Tufty moped for a day or two, and, as long as he lived, showed great excitement at the sight of a flock of sparrows; and it is my private opinion that, if a second opportunity had been given him, Kittie Grant's Tufty would have gone off for good and all with Captain Bobtail's Brownie."