ment, like a gentleman. I fear the lady in the fourth pane on the left was inclined to have her own way, and was slightly a termagant. There was evidently a difficulty between her and her mate about the site of the nest. The male wanted to build in the sixth pane, the female in the fourth, and I am sorry to say, they proceeded almost to quarrelling. They raised their feathers, flapped their wings, and chattered harshly at each other, but in the end, as usual, the lady had her way. I was very glad, for now I could watch every step in the progress of nestbuilding and rearing the young. Besides, male chaffinches could not know anything about the rearing of infant chaffinches, any more than husbands can be experts in the art and mystery of rearing babies. Now and again I thought the rain was re- nest, and watch the eggs, and imprison hernewed, for a shower of large drops more self for weeks to warm them into life. She brilliant than any jewels fell from the upper would have to spread her wings over the branches of the rose-trees. No! it was not home to prevent a drop of rain from falling raining, for Flos, my own Pomeranian, hates upon her young. She would have to take the rain, and there he was rolling himself in more than the half-share of feeding them and the short grass of the lawn. Another shower teaching them to fly and go abroad into the of orient pearls and flashing rubies! and now world to earn-for earn it they do by killing my near acquaintance with the dear com- destructive insects - their living for thempanions of my solitude begins. These are selves, while he could only twitter his low two chaffinches, one on each side of the sweet song to cheer her on her long watch, window, playing, as I in my folly think, and bring her what he could catch in the way among the boughs. They are both females, of food, and sometimes take her place upon and they are merely on saluting terms with the nest while she flew forth to cater for her each other. They perch upon the sprays of young. So he never questioned his young the rose-trees-I said they grew wildly-wife's choice, but deferred to her better judgand rocked to and fro, apparently in sport. Away they swing at the extreme end of the branches, whisking their little wings rapidly, and performing the part of an acrobat on the trapeze. It was this swaying of the branches which brought down the showers of watery gems. Next day they were at play again, and I am sure there was not a single arching branch which they did not swing from. It was rare fun evidently, for in the central point of the arch their flight described backwards and forwards, they fluttered their wings and said "Cheep-cheep-cheep," triumphantly. But on the third day, two fine gentlemen in the shape of cock-chaffinches appeared. Like many a fine gentleman among ourselves, they had sent the unprotected females to prepare the home before them. Now there is a thorough examination, not of the sprays, but of those angles from which two or three sprays shoot forth. The male and female have a deal of twittering over these. They try the strength of the branches by clasping their claws around the stems and then plying their wings rapidly. They look earnestly upwards to ascertain whether the junction of the boughs is sheltered from the rain, or will be sheltered, when the leaves expand fully. Evidently there is a diversity of opinion or of judgment between the lady and the gentleman chaffinch as to the suitability of two places where three stems meet. I begin to see, they are selecting a site to build their nest, and they know that is a matter of great responsibility. The pair, each of whom claimed the right of independent judgment, chirped in the fourth pane of the left division of the parlour window. The pair which settled at once on the right hand were quiet, well-ordered chaffinches. The male, in this pair, at once gracefully yielded to his little wife's choice and made no question about it. She, he thought, would have to plan the Now the preparation for the building of the home begins, and I understand why my chaffinches swung so busily on the trapeze. Only two stout stems of the rose-tree formed the angle in which the birds had decided to build their nest; but then a weak thin stem also grew out at the same angle, but it bent outwards and downwards, and it was on this drooping spray the birds practised their gymnastics. Then there happened a circumstance which I would scarcely dare to state had I not seen a passage from Mr. Griffiths' notes on chaffinches quoted in "The History of Irish Birds." Mr. Griffiths found a chaffinch's nest built in the angle between the trunk of a fir-tree and two small branches which shot out from it; but the birds had found a piece of thin whipcord and utilised it, just as a very clever man would do. They passed the cord once round the two stems, drew them slightly together, and then interwove the ends in the bottom of the nest. This is really a more wonderful feat than that accomplished by my chaf finches. These swung, and swung, and swung, throwing their weight and strength in the one direction, until they managed to bring the weak spray on a line with the others, so as to form a proper foundation for the safe rearing of their precious young. I confess this is a wondrous instance of instinct or of intelligence. But it was done, and the nest remains still in the rose-tree although the young have flown away. Once the foundation was secure the work went on merrily, and truth compels me to say that the lady evidently twitted her husband upon his utter ignorance about nestbuilding. He was plainly ashamed of himself (like that pet jackdaw of mine which once drank too much sweet wine) and he was for the future the most attentive and dutiful of husbands. He carried filaments of dark green moss, exactly the colour of the stem and leaves of the evergreen rose-tree. There is any quantity of moss about the house and close to the rose-tree, but moss of this particular colour is not to be found within two or three hundred yards. The birds must have looked about and searched for it, and have known that a nest of the same colour as the leaves and stem would attract less notice and be more secure than if constructed of moss of a lighter colour. When the male brought his filament of moss, the lady arranged it neatly, tucking in the ends and interlacing one filament with another deftly. She used her beak chiefly in this process, pressing the moss, smoothing it over, flattening it down, until the nest assumed the form of a circle interwoven around the two strong sprays and the weak one. Very often, while the wife took a breath of air far afield, the husband worked away at the nest vigorously, but I am afraid he was not a very skilful workman; for when the lady returned, there ensued some sharp chattering, and the wicked little woman not seldom undid the gentleman's work and effected it all over again. When the nest became two inches high, the birds alternately went into the hollow and moved quickly round, of course to insure perfect smoothness and roundness inside. If young people will look into a chaffinch's nest from above, they will see that the edge at the top is turned over so as to form a lip. This part of the work caused the greatest labour and occupied a comparatively long time. The lip was so formed as to throw off rain, and it is evidently of a closer and harder texture than the rest of the nest. At last the work is ended, and the symmetrical nest is complete. It is in shape, as I see it now, perfectly spherical, like an orange with one-sixth of the top cut off, and there, in the hollow, sat her ladyship, turning round from time to time to make all smooth, and twittering pleasantly to her delighted husband. Poor fellow! Of all the affectionate husbands that ever lady chaffinch had he was the most loving. Do you know that he would insist upon helping to hatch the precious eggs himself while his little wife left her long watch for a free flight now and then? I do not know where he passed the night, for her ladyship occupied the interior of the nest, spreading her pretty wings over the edge so as to turn off the pearl-drops of morning rime or the pelting of the pitiless shower. He roamed about untiringly in search of food for the young when they broke the shell. He twittered for her, he sang for her, he sported among the leaves for her; no slave could be more obedient to her call, no lover more affectionate. But I must say, he was not half so bold or confident as she was. I said they built close to the fourth pane of the parlour window, and so, as I had a clear view of them, they had a very clear view of me. Perhaps it was the red glow of the fire that attracted them, for we had frost up to June, and a clear seacoal fire is a pleasant sight. Perhaps the white table-cloth spread morning and evening induced them to study the interior of the room What pleasure they gave us when they perched on the window-ledge, twisting their little necks and turning their brilliant eyes upon all inside! There were always crumbs for them, and sometimes flax-seed for a treat, and both we placed upon the window-sill, It was very funny, when the lower sash was opened, to see the little heads of the chaffinches and green linnets who came as visitors popping up now and again to see what we were doing. I think they wished to come in, but were timorous. If breakfast was somewhat late so was the birds' dole, and then we were scolded. It was one incessant chatter of "Chaff, chaff, chaff," whence Dr. Johnson derives their name, or "Tzip, tzip, tzip," the root of the Hebrew appellation, quickly and sharply repeated. The hall-door is a folding one opening upon a broad flight of six stone steps. It is thrown open at an early hour in the morning to admit the "champagne" air and the intoxicating fragrance of thousands of roses. There, on the steps, assemble chaffinches, linnets, robins, and sparrows, waiting for the morning dole; but the lady chaffinches are always foremost, the gentlemen play the part of laggards behind, watchful, it is true, but unconfiding. The lady has a family, five everopen mouths, to feed, and she cannot afford to stand upon punctilio or to be afraid of those who give her and the chicks their daily bread. She hops boldly into the hall, an atomy of life, and twitters away with her cheep, cheep, cheep, as I slowly come down the stairs. For some days, they were afraid of my dog Flos, who wondered what business they had to devour the crumbs, his perquisite. But Flos is an intelligent and obedient dog, and very soon felt that the birds were his master's pets, and so he lay down placidly stretched upon the gravel with his black nose between his paws, blinking at me with his liquid eyes, as if to ask me, why he, a dog of merit and of standing, should submit to be flown over by flights of rapacious chaffinches who had invaded his domain. There ensued another discussion between the husband and the wife when the young were fully fledged, or nearly so. I think, of course it is but fancy, that the gentleman wished to keep the children a little longer in the old warm nest, while the lady, evidently more experienced in the world, wished to send out her young to make their way as soon as possible in life. She had her will as usual, and then I saw her process of education. Firstly, with her bird talk, she coaxed the young to follow her, as she ran, not flew, from stem to stem. The little ones looked exactly like mice as they moved with closed wings up the boughs. After a day or two, she brought them to a pendulous branch, and when she had got them there, away she swung at the end, and then the little ones, perforce, flapped their wings but kept firm hold of the bough. Next day, they hopped, rather than flew, with expanded wings, from bough to bough, and on the fourth day they were away, free children of the air. own. The nest is empty, like the homes from which our children have gone to work their own way in life and build up nests of their On sunny mornings the crowd of little beggars twittered about the doorsteps asking for crumbs; but they are in dependent now, and perch like birds of freedom among the boughs of the firs and branches of the avenue. I think-but this is vanity that they do know me a little; for when I go to my service at the church a flock of small birds flies before and round the car for a while, and I say to myself, these are my own chaffinches, linnets, and robins. More than once, a stray morsel of a chaffinch has run up the stem of the rose-tree, crept again like a mouse through the flower-laden boughs and peeped curiously into the empty nest. Perhaps he thinks that was a very small place indeed to rear five hearty chaffinches; perhaps my visitor is a lady, and wants to learn how to build a structure so safe, so warm, and so beautiful, early in the coming spring. The careful reader of Scripture—I do not mean the critical student, but the person who thinks as he reads-must have noticed how frequently our Master appeals to nature. "Behold," He says, "behold the birds of the air, behold the lilies of the field." The works. of man perish by time, nature remains the same; and so until the end of all things the humble disciple of Christ will see God's teaching in nature, and God Himself in everything. Who can see the robin perching upon the gardener's spade as he turns up the loam, or the sparrows following the plough and harrow, without being reminded. of the fowls which went after the sower in the pearl of all parables, and without remembering the great lesson so plainly taught for ever in "the sower and the seed?" If there be any heart depressed and anguished by cares for the future, the Master whispers, "Are not two sparrows sold for a farthing? and yet your heavenly father feedeth them. Fear not, you are of more value than many sparrows." Should there be a soul mourning because it finds no resting-place on earth, we must think of our Teacher's low estate, and how, when the birds had their warm nests, He had no place to lay His head. And so it is throughout the old Testament. If we ask where we can be secure and at rest, we are taught by the swallow, which "buildeth her nest in thy altars, O God;" and should man presume upon his learning and think he is wise beyond what is written, even Job will remind him that the birds are wiser than he, when he asks, “Art thou wiser than the fowls ?" Nature is ever silently speaking to us of God, ever teaching, ever warning us. And if this simple but true story of the chaffinches induces any child to be tender to little birds which God says he cares for, and to learn from them love and tenderness, trust in God's providence, patience and perseverance in the course marked out for him, and that gratitude which even birds declare in their morning songs, it will be richly rewarded indeed. I know Christ loved the birds, and that every follower of Christ will love them too, and derive many a pleasant and useful lesson from them. water that would have done credit to a saint of the Middle Ages. Most of them were in a similar condition, but one or two candidates for admission to fairy-land during the Christmas season had attempted to make themselves a little cleaner by way of recommendation. Presently the door opened and the whole crowd tumbled in; but one lingered to say to the man who acted as porter, "Ain't Annie coming?" "You go on and mind your own business," said the man gruffly; and he went in and closed the door behind him. Perhaps there had been a last lingering hope in the mind of the girl crouching there by the shop-window; for as the door closed her chin went down from her knees, where it had been resting, and, burying her face in her hands, she burst into tears. "Is that you, Annie ?" said a gentle, womanly voice as a customer, carrying a bag full of oranges, went out of the shop 'Yes, ma'am, it's me," said Annie sadly. "But what are you doing here at this time of day? I thought you said they began with the fairies again, yesterday?" "Yes, ma'am, so they did; but-butOh dear, I don't know what I shall do !" "Come in here and tell me what is the matter. Has your mother been beating you again?" The child shook her head." "Not yet, but she will, I know; and I'll have to go in the streets for good, too; and I ain't eat much, either. Mother told me not to eat much when I'd got the chance, but to drink all the gin I could get hold of. It ain't much wittles or gin either as comes my way, and yet, somehow, my legs will grow.' And she looked down angrily at her offending limbs, which certainly were much too long for the frock she wore. "But you haven't told me now, Annie, what is the matter-why you have not gone to the theatre this afternoon," said the kindly voice. "Well, it's all along of my legs, ma'am ; they would grow, you see; and now I'm too big to do the fairy business, and not big enough for any of the other parts." And the tears ran down the girl's face so pitifully that it seemed cruel to smile at her complaints against her legs. "You are hungry, too, ain't you, Annie?" said her kind friend. "Well now, you seem to find out everything about me. I wish you'd see mother and tell her I couldn't help growing." "Sit down here while I fetch you some bread-and-butter." And a basket was turned up in a sheltered nook of the shop, where Annie would be much warmer than crouching under the shop-board. When the bread-and-butter had been eaten, Annie said, "Am I to go now?" "Where are you going, child? Your mother will be at the theatre, I suppose?" "Yes, ma'am ; she always stops after the sweeping and cleaning is done; she likes to be there best, she says." "Well, don't you think you had better go to the school I've told you about before? You couldn't go there, you said, because you were at the theatre." But Annie shook her head slowly. "I've been thinking all day about what you've told me here two or three times, and what you say they teaches about at the school-that God loves little children, even little girls like me, and takes care of 'em." "Yes, Annie, He does." "Well now, if He did, what did He let my legs grow like this for? I ain't like some girls; and if He knows everything, as you say, why, He knows I was born on the stage, as you may say, and can't do nothing else; and yet my legs have got to be that awkward that I'm just the wrong size for everything, and just at the busy time too, and when you're always cold and hungry if you ain't at the theatre." "But, Annie, you would not always like to be a very little girl. God wants you to grow up a useful woman." "But I'm just no use at all now," said the child fretfully. "There ain't no room nowhere for me; mother says there's too many people in the world, and there is, too, or else they wouldn't have a chance of picking and choosing about the size of fairies, but would be glad to keep me on till I was fit to take something else." "Never mind about the fairies now. can't read, can you, Annie ?" You The child shook her head. "Never had no time to learn; but mother says I must some day, for the big ones have to learn their parts out of books." 66 Then, now will be your time to learn, though I hope you will find something better to do than go on the stage, and" "And come to be a sweeper at last, like mother is," said the child. "I often wonder, ma'am, what it must be like to have a nice home, like, and no theatre at all. You don't go to the theatre, do you?" "No, Annie." |