Year: 1871

sit in the window and look ont on a
little fountain. The thing is not specially
fine Three shells, lifted about three feet
above the ground, catch the little threads
OF water that spring from the figure of a
little child just above them. The over
flow falls into broad and shallow circle
on the level of the ground In the day
time one can hear no sound of waters
At night, when all is STILL and the air
moist, faint, musical trickling of the wa
ter pleases the ear


1t is not the beauty of the figures that at
tracts my eye, nor the play of water, which
as a spectacle is quite Insignificant, nor
the amusement which a neighbours little
girl takes in the matter, though that is
pleasing. 1t is the joy which all the Eng
lish sparrows in this neighborhood take in
this fountain, that delights u.s. They have
not the least doubt that it was established
for them, and that it belongs to them. No
doubt they frame arguments to that effect
from design and adaptation. .'For what
but sparrow-baths are these three shells
placed here? They are too shallow for
any other creature, and just deep enough
for spalrows! The fine streams of water
that play into them are not large enough
for man or beast and are most admirable
for sprnkling birds There is clear evi-
dence that they were placed here express
ly for us -


The sparrow faith is evinced by their
works. From early dawn until dark there
is hardly a moment without half dozen
birds, and often ten and fifteen may be
seen on the rims together, slipping the
grateful beverage, exchanging remarks
upon the weather, or criticising each 9TH
ers plumage, chirping, coquetting and in
all ways showing, la Darwin, that they
are on the way up toward human nature
and have reached some of the germs of it.


But did you ever see bird wash itselfp
OF course bird in a bath is not to be
compared with child bathing. Few
sights in this world are more beautiful
that to see one-year-old sporting in his
tub, with a fond young mother radiant
with delight standing by and inwardly
protesting that never before, no never,
was there so beautiful a child.


But then it is to be remembered that
birds never take their clothes off, to reveal
their hidden beauty. Indeed, when a bird
bathes he washes all his household stuff
1t is for him as if man should go in
swimming with all his towels, sheets, ta-
ble-clothS, shirts and handkerchiefs upon
him, and perform the duties of general
washing-day. First you see, giancing
through the air, the vigorous little fellow,
and alighting on the edge of the lower
tank, whose bottom, fortunately, slopes
at such an angle as to give very shallow
water near the edges.


First he takes a drink He likes it so
well that he takes another, hops few
steps, turns round, flies to the other side
of the rim, and sips again.


Then he wades half an inch deep cocks
his eye to see if man or cat is prowling
near, or hideous boys with wicked sticks.
No; all is safe. He drops his head, and
by q jerking motion he catches upon his
head and neck a spoonful of water, which
he throws over on his back. The touch
exhilarates him. He stoops, and opening
his breast-feathers, he tlirts water all
through them. He ducks quite under,
and energies in such a way as to let the
water flow down his back. He hops upon
the rim, but has not quite satisfied himself
and turns back for another good splash.
Who can describe that shiver which runs
through his feathers, as now he sits upon
the edge of the fountain and whirls off the
pretty drops of moisture from his whole
body


But it is too public to make his toilet
here. He flies toward the trees in the
street. but is tempted by the iron fence,
rs halfway house. lie turns around
once or twice, straightens out one or two
feathers, and then springs off into the air
and betakes himself to hiding of leaves


in the tree, and then plumes himself with
the comb which every bird carries in his
mouth.-Henry Ward Beecher.