occurred in the city
of Denver, in 1899. It could not properly be called a formal
presentment, but was none the less welcome on that account. I had
scarcely stepped out upon the busy street before my ear was accosted by
a kind of half twitter and half song that was new to me. "Surely that is
not the racket of the English sparrow; it is too musical," I remarked to
a friend walking by my side.

Peering among the trees and houses, I presently focussed my field-glass
upon a small, finch-like bird whose coat was striped with gray and
brown, and whose face, crown, breast, and rump were beautifully tinged
or washed with crimson, giving him quite a dressy appearance. What could
this chipper little city chap be, with his trig form and well-bred
manners, in such marked contrast with those of the swaggering English
sparrow? Afterwards he was identified as the house-finch, which rejoices
in the high-sounding Latin name of _Carpodacus mexicanus frontalis_. His
distribution is restricted to the Rocky Mountain district chiefly south
of the fortieth parallel of north latitude.

He is certainly an attractive species, and I wish we could offer
sufficient inducements to bring him east. A bird like him is a boon and
an ornament to the streets and parks of any city that he graces with
his presence and enlivens with his songs. No selfish recluse is he; no,
indeed! In no dark gulch or wilderness, far from human neighborhood,
does he sulkily take up his abode, but prefers the companionship of man
to the solitudes of nature, declaring in all his conduct that he likes
to be where there are "folks." In this respect he bears likeness to the
English sparrow; but let it be remembered that there the analogy stops.
Even his chirruping is musical as he flies overhead, or makes his
_caveat_ from a tree or a telegraph wire against your ill-bred
espionage. He and his plainly clad little spouse build a neat cottage
for their bairns about the houses, but do not clog the spouting and make
themselves a nuisance otherwise, as is the habit of their English
cousins.

This finch is a minstrel, not of the first class, still one that merits
a high place among the minor songsters; and, withal, he is generous with
his music. You might call him a kind of urban Arion, for there is real
melody in his little score. As he is an early riser, his matin
voluntaries often mingled with my half-waking dreams in the morning at
dawn's peeping, and I loved to hear it too well t