Year: 1871




Sitting at my writing table, and look
ing out over the harbor, and far away over
upon the blue Orange mountains-do you
ask for whatp Why, to collect my
thoughts, to be sure have collected a
good many things in my day, but nothing
that was so hard to collect as my thoughts.
To collect hens or turkeys, and drive
them to the yard; to collect the cattle
cows. oxen, calves, and all--out of wide
and long pasture, full of tangled woods or
ravines, is enough troublesome. But
these are all easy, compared with collect
ing ones thoughts. Like wild birds,
when they have flown away, one never
knows where to look for them
While was thus gazing into the blue
above, and upon the always new scene of
harbor life, up came from the yard below,
and perched upon the iron railing outside
of my window, a plump little sparrow.
Not one of our old-fashioned American
sort, but one of the CHEEKY, pugnacious,
chirping, jolly little English sparrows
that have now filled our streets, and whom
everybody seems intent upon feeding
during the cold of winter.


The little philosopher was out on a
meditation. At any rate, he seemed in
quiet msod, and looked in on me with an
observing air. He changed his place,
turned around two or three times, cooked
his head, now this way and now that,
until he was satisfied that he had taken
my full measure and understood all about
me.


Having studied bird nature for many
summers, and at last having attained
ornithologic intuition, am able to state
just what our feathered philosopher was
thinking of.


His first impression was that / was far
too large. What use was there in such
body? He was about the right size himself,
and could not imagine why anything
should wish to be bigger. He confirmed
himself in these views by the reflection
that could not fly. And anything not
able to fly was, in his opioion, of small
account.


He next looked pityingly on my clothes,
comparing them with his own feathers,
and commiserated the life of one who but
toned on his apparel instead of having it
grow upon him. And in this view gave
him sympathy No washing days for
birds; no tailors to cut and fit; ne needle
women to mend; no holes or rips; but
everything snug, and tidy, with but few
minutes dressing each morning with his
bill, which is far more agreeable than a
clothier's bill.


As / sat quite still, neither hopping nor
| flying, he concluded that was stupid and
heavy He addressed a few chirps to me,
but getting no reply, it was his impression
that was unsocial, as well as clumsy and
| stolid.


A dim idea foated through his mind OF
the unhappiness of creatures that had no
nests, that seemed never to care for seed
or wormdelicacies that often tempted
him into my yard, and he had seen me
pass unheeded such exquisite viands. In
short, every respect in which / differed
from a bird he noted to my disadvantage.
All things which are human and civilized
were too high for his comprehension. The
result was, therefore, that my sparrow
philosopher flew off to inform his classes
in philosophy that a man is an unfortunate
creature, having hundred times the bulk
of a sparrow. without one OF those gifts
which make bird life so charming. But
being q bird of some sensibility he eau
toned his little flock not to let their opin-
ions be known to men, as it might add
some needless regrets to beings already
so unfortunate by their organization.
| Well, is not this about what men are
doing? Is not the child looking up at
manhood, comparing it with the little
| standard of his own just about sparrow S
| wisdom?


Are not the poor and ignorant looking
up at the rich and educated through the
lens of their own experience?
Am not contemplating the great Over
Soul at a distance vastly greater than that
between the sparrow and myself? And
when at length l shall see Him las He
is," will it not appear that my conception
of infinite wisdom and infinite love were
far less worthy of Him than a sparrow S
notion of a man?-Ne,o York Ledger