THE VANITY OF SPARROWS.
[To TER EDITOR OF TIIE " SPECTATOR."] Sin,—Permit me to ask those bird-loving correspondents of yours, whose letters I have read with great interest in the Spectator, whether they have ever noticed the pleasure that sparrows apparently have in contemplating themselves ? My daughter writes to me from Bangalore that she is " obliged to cover up" her "looking-glass with a towel, for the sparrows come in, sit on the frame, and tap at themselves, making both glass and dressing-table in a horrid mess. At first, the towel kept them away; but they were always on the watch, and if any one threw back the towel, they would be there in a minute. But now they hold back the towel with one claw, hold themselves on with the other, and peck away at their