Spencer quietly. "That is a song sparrow
and a native of our fields."
"Oh, yes, so it is!" said the boy carelessly. "But there are plenty of
English sparrows. I shot five yesterday. They do ever so much harm, Mr.
Spencer."
"They certainly do some good, also," said the farmer. "They eat
cankerworms and other harmful insects. They are said to devour that
troublesome pest, the tree caterpillar, which no other bird will touch."
Frank looked thoughtful for a minute. Then he said: "A boy wants to have
some fun with his gun."
"It seems to me," said the farmer, "that it would be more fun to shoot
at a mark than to give pain to some living creature. But a gun is a poor
toy, at the best, Frank. Ask your father for a good pair of opera-
glasses, and study the birds instead of killing them. We know very
little yet about any of them. See if you can't bring me a bit of news
about some of our feathered neighbors before the summer is over. I'm a
real bird-gossip, you know, and I'm always anxious to hear of what is
going on in their homes."
"All right, sir," said Frank, smiling into his friend's kindly eyes.
"I'm afraid it will be hard work to find out anything that you don't
know already, but I'll try."
Mr. Spencer drove on for a few minutes in silence.
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