SPARROWS AND SQUIRREL IN MONTREAL.

BY FRANK BELLEW.

THE SPARROWS AND THEIR ENEMY.

Very early one morning, as I was strolling along one of the quiet streets of Montreal, and feasting myself with the wonderful beauties of that most beautiful city, my attention was attracted by a great commotion going on among a flock of sparrows, which flew together from one place to another, sometimes alighting in the roadway of the street, and sometimes among the branches of the trees. At first I could see no cause for all this unusual fuss; but presently my eyes fell upon a little squirrel on the sidewalk, which seemed quite as much excited as the sparrows. If he ran along the street, the sparrows flew after him; if he stood still, the sparrows alighted, and faced him like a regiment of soldiers; if he scampered up the trunk of a tree, the sparrows collected in the branches above him, with a great chattering, until he ran down again, and then they followed him as before. The poor little fellow seemed fairly distracted, and I felt quite sorry for him. But then he was a thief. He had come down from the mountain at the back of the town to rob the sparrows' nests of their eggs, just like some Scottish Highland chief of old descending on the Lowlands to levy black-mail. What became of him I do not know, for after watching the encounter for ten or fifteen minutes I moved on. No doubt he was driven back to his mountain home a wiser and a better squirrel, having learned a lesson to content himself with vegetable diet, and not hanker after the luxuries of the city.

Many a country boy can draw a moral from this, if he chooses.