windows. She wishes they were
exterminated, every one of them. And they are homely, there is no
denying it, for all the beauty of their individual sky-blue flowers. No
wonder a neat housewife finds them an eyesore. But I never pass the spot
in August (I do not pass it at all after that) without seeing that hers
is only one side of the story. My approach is sure to startle a few
goldfinches (and they too are most estimable neighbors), to whom these
scraggy herbs are quite as useful as my excellent lady's apple-trees
and pear-trees are to her. I watch them as they circle about in musical
undulations, and then drop down again to finish their repast; and I
perceive that, in spite of its unsightliness, the chicory is not a
weed,--its use has been discovered.

In truth, the lover of birds soon ceases to feel the uncomeliness of
plants of this sort; he even begins to have a peculiar and kindly
interest in them. A piece of "waste ground," as it is called, an untidy
garden, a wayside thicket of golden-rods and asters, pig-weed and
evening primrose,--these come to be almost as attractive a sight to him
as a thrifty field of wheat is to an agriculturalist. Taking his cue
from the finches, he separates plants into two grand divisions,--those
that shed their seeds in the fall, and those that hold them through the
winter. The latter, especially if they are of a height to overtop a
heavy snow-fall, are friends in need to his clients; and he is certain
to have marked a few places within the range of his every-day walks
where, thanks to somebody's shiftlessness, perhaps, they have been
allowed to flourish.

It is not many years since there were several such winter gardens of the
birds in Commonwealth Avenue,--vacant house-lots overgrown with tall
weeds. Hither cause flocks of goldfinches, red-poll linnets, and snow
buntings; and thither I went to watch them. It happened, I remember,
that the last two species, which are not to be met with in this region
every season, were unusually abundant during the first or second year of
my ornithological enthusiasm. Great was the delight with which I added
them to the small but rapidly increasing list of my feathered
acquaintances.

The red-polls and the goldfinches often travel together, or at least are
often to be found feeding in company; and as they resemble each other a
good deal in size, general appearance, and ways, the casual observer is
very likely not to discriminate between them. Only