he garbage, in the crannies of the very pavement.

[Illustration: I FELT ASHAMED.]

"What, again, of weed seeds in general, and knotgrass in particular? Avian
Rat, indeed! rather Avian Scavenger, who draws his hard-earned pay in
corn. Can you grudge him a few paltry millions? Would you exterminate him
because in your blindness you only note the debit side? There is a Power
behind the sparrow. It is Nature herself, and against Her fixed resolve
nothing avails."

He had worked himself into an incoherent frenzy; but, even as he relapsed
from this fierce air of consequence to his vulgarian self, I felt
ashamed.

THE AWAKENING OF THE DORMOUSE

He lay face downwards--two tiny fists tight-clenched against his cheeks,
his feet curled up to meet them, his tail swung gracefully across his
eyes.

Nine weeks had he lain thus, self-entombed. Within the hollow of the old
hazel-stump he had fashioned a rough sphere of honeysuckle bark; within
this, again, a nest of feathery grass stems. He had put the roof on last
of all.

A winter sunbeam pierced the screen of woodbine, and, for a moment, shed
the warmth of springtime on the nest. His whiskers gave a feeble flicker
in response. Next day the treacherous radiance lingered. He unclenched one
fist, and wound four tiny fingers round a grass-stem. On the fourth day he
half-opened his eyes (even half-opened they were beautiful), and sat up,
dazed and blinking. The sunbeam had reached his heart.

[Illustration: "WHAT, AWAKE?" SHOUTED THE SQUIRREL.]

Yet it was a full hour before he was conscious that he lived. At first he
felt nothing but a dull quickening throb within his body. His feet and
hands were ice-cold, and he swayed from side to side, feeling for his
strength. Then came the pricking of ten thousand tiny needles in his
limbs. His heart beat as though it would burst its prison. His whole
frame quivered. His bristles stood stiff-pointed from their roots. As the
heart-throb slowed, his muscles slackened and obeyed his will, but yet he
felt that something was amiss. Before him danced a yellow quivering haze,
his feet were heavy and awkward, his chest ached as he breathed, and he
was cold, oh, so cold! It was no easy matter to reach the nest-top. He
climbed mechanically upwards, digging his toes into the meshwork of the
sides, and sobbing from sheer weakness as he climbed.

He made a small parting in the roof, and peeped out. It was only for a
moment, for he fell back