like moles, without having taken any notice of the bird that flew or the
bill that sang. We believe that the small birds are sparrows, the larger
probably crows; barndoor fowls are the only ones we know definitely.

I met a lady the other day who was extremely indignant about this. She
had asked the man at whose house she was staying--a very intelligent
peasant--what kind of bird it was that she had seen in the fields. It
was evident that it was a thrush--merely a common thrush--and she
described the bird to him: it was about half as large as a pigeon, gray
and speckled with yellow; it hopped in the fields, and so on.

'Would it be the bird they call a swallow?' suggested the man.

'Not at all,' replied the lady angrily. 'I rather think it was a kind of
thrush.'

'Oh! then you had better ask my wife.'

'So she understands birds, does she?' exclaimed the lady, much
mollified.

'Yes, she is mad with them, they do so much mischief among the
cherries.'

With this my lady had to go. But the story is not yet finished; the
worst is to come.

For when, indignant at the countryman's ignorance of the bird-world, she
told all this in town, there was one very solemn gentleman who said: