—Henry Fothergill Chorley.
"CHEEPER," A SPARROW BABY.
BY ANNE W. JACKSON.
ONE day in May, as I was hurrying along the street, my steps were arrested by the distressed chirping of a sparrow on the opposite sidewalk. Thinking that probably a young sparrow had fallen from the nest, I picked my way across the muddy road to the other side to see what I could do.
The poor little sparrow-mother was wildly hopping about and chirping in sore distress. And what a pitiful sight greeted my eyes! Upon the wet grass, under the very jaws of an evil-looking little black-and-tan dog, was a poor, draggled, shivering baby sparrow.
At sight of me the dog coolly picked up the baby and trotted off. I followed and he soon dropped it; but I couldn't succeed in driving him away. He still remained in sight, bold and impudent.
I was in a sad dilemma. Of the two evils which confronted me, or rather the baby, which would prove the less?