This is the largest bird family, more than five hundred species, and they are found nearly all over the world. It is divided into sparrows, finches, grosbeaks, and crossbills. All of them are smaller than a robin, and have short, high beaks, with the back corners turned down. The beaks show that they are seed eaters, though all of them eat insects too.

An interesting thing about birds who eat seeds is the grinding machine they have inside to break up the hard seeds. For of course, having no teeth, they are obliged to swallow them nearly whole. What I have called a machine is the gizzard, and you have seen it on the table from a chicken. It is well fitted to grind up the food, and birds often swallow small stones to help in the work.

The first group of this family, the sparrows, are all small, about the size of an English sparrow. They are dressed in dull, brownish colors, more or less streaked, and they live and get their food very largely on or near the ground. Their colors keep them from being easily seen on the ground.

All of this group sing, and some of them are noted songsters, as the song sparrow, the white-throated sparrow, and the fox sparrow. The best known is the little song sparrow, who is found almost everywhere, and is dear to nearly every one.

The Song Sparrow is streaked all over in shades of brown. The breast is white, with the dark brown streaks coming together in an irregular-shaped spot, or sometimes two spots, in front.

The nest of the song sparrow is on the ground or very near it. Sometimes it is in a tuft of grass, sometimes in a low bush a few inches up. One I found at the roots of a little clump of golden-rod, before it bloomed, of course. It was a slight affair, right among the stems, so that it could not be taken up without tearing the plant.

This bird is one of the first to come in the spring, and his song and the robin's are the first we hear. He also stays very late in the fall, and about New York some of them stay all winter. Their food being the seeds of weeds, which are always to be found, they do not need to migrate.

The song sparrow has a sweet and cheery voice, and a variety of songs, and he sings a great deal. I have heard one bird sing six different songs, standing on a fence in plain sight all the time. Some of the songs are charming, and all are pleasant to hear. One never tires of song-sparrow music.

The second branch of this family—the Finches—have some brighter colored members, the goldfinch in brilliant lemon-yellow, and the purple finch in crimson and white.

The Goldfinch, called also the thistle-bird, lettuce-bird, and wild canary, is a charming fellow, dressed, as I said, in lemon color, with black wings and tail and cap. His mate is in olive brown. He is the most delightful of singers, with a sweet voice, and is a common bird all over the country. He flies in great waves, uttering a cheery little warble as he goes over each airy wave.

The nest is one of the prettiest we have, in an upright crotch, and furnished with a bed of thistledown an inch thick for the baby goldfinches to rest upon. It is made late in the season, in July and sometimes in August.

One of the most lovely bird-studies I ever had was of a pair of these birds nesting in a low plum-tree. While his mate was sitting, the gay little fellow hung around, doing nothing but watching the tree that held his family. Every little while the sitting bird would begin to call her sweet-voiced "s-w-e-e-t," which sounds so much like a canary's call. On hearing this he would answer her, and at once fly over to see if she was all right, or wanted anything. When he thought it time to eat, he would come and call her off. Both would then go to a patch of weeds, where they cracked and ate the seeds till they had had enough, and then go back to the nursery.

These little birds eat mostly the seeds of weeds,—thistle, ragweed, and beggar's-ticks,—as well as the larvÆ of the wheat-midge and other pests, and they feed great quantities to their young.

Goldfinches do not leave us in winter. The male puts off his bright coat and comes out in dull colors like his mate, except that he keeps his black wings and tail. All of a neighborhood collect in small flocks and stay about all winter, looking more like sparrows than goldfinches.

The Western goldfinch which corresponds to this bird is called in California the Willow Goldfinch, but in looks and in habits of life he seems to be the same as the Eastern bird. He is a confiding little creature, and by a person of quiet ways may be made very tame.

Among the finches will be found the Chewink, or Towhee Bunting, a bird nearly of the size of a catbird, who is sometimes called ground robin. He is black and white, with reddish sides and red eyes, and his mate is brown where he is black. He is usually found on the ground, where he gets his food, and where the nest is placed.

There are several species in California, and the Western variety of the common chewink of the East is called the spurred towhee, with habits the same, so far as known.

The chewink has at the best an exquisite song, though there is a great difference in singers, as there is in all bird families. The finest song is like a peal of silver-toned bells.

A bird-lover whom I know found one day a nestling chewink who could not fly much, and seemed to be deserted, or lost, in a barren place on Long Island. Fearing that some cat would get him, he brought the bird home and put him in a cage. The little fellow was not at all frightened at his new surroundings, and became very tame.

The cage of the young bird was near that of an ortolan, a European bird noted as a singer, and a common cage-bird. The baby chewink seemed to take a great liking to the stranger, and tried to do everything he did. Perhaps he felt the need of some education, since he had been deprived of his parents. At any rate, he evidently adopted the ortolan as his model.

When the little one began to sing, he did not sing chewink but ortolan, and he did it so well that one could hardly tell which bird was singing. The gentleman wanted to see if the little fellow would recognize the song of his own family. So he bought a full-grown chewink who was singing, and put him close to his young relative. The new bird was full of music, and sang a great deal. But the youngster paid no attention to him, and kept up his ortolan notes.

This story shows that a bird does not always, if ever, know his native song by instinct, but has to learn it. It is supposed by those who have studied bird ways that he learns it from the old bird before he leaves the nest.