air quite oppressive, and thermometer at 64. The grass quite green again, in patches; cows feeding in some pastures.
Saturday, 9th.—Still same mild weather, with dark skies.
A large flock of tree-sparrows about the house this morning. These birds come from the far north to winter here; they are not so common with us, however, as the snow-bird and the chicadee. The little creatures were looking for seeds and insects among the bushes and on the ground, and they seemed to pick up gleanings here and there. Though constantly fluttering about among the honeysuckles, they passed the berries without tasting them; and often, when birds have been flitting about in autumn when the fruit of the honeysuckle looked bright and tempting, I have observed that it was left untouched. The birds do not like it. The blueberries of the Virginia creeper, on the contrary, are favorite food with many birds, though poisonous to man.
The tree-sparrow is one of the largest and handsomest of its tribe, its head being marked with a brighter bay than others. Upon its breast is a dark spot, as though it bore its escutcheon there. When it first arrives in November, it has a pleasant, low warble, and it may very possibly sing well in its summer haunts. But our sparrows generally are not musical birds ; the song-sparrow is the most marked exception.
This dull, cheerless winter day, while watching the sparrows searching for food among the bare and naked branches, and on the brown, cold earth, I was strongly impressed with the recollection that these little creatures were chosen by their Maker to teach us a most important lesson. The passage in the Holy Gospel in which they have a place is very remarkable, and is given to us by St. Matthew and St. Luke. The Evangelists tell us that
