ONE day in May, as I was hurrying along the street, my steps were arrested by the distressed chirping of a sparrow on the opposite sidewalk. Thinking that probably a young sparrow had fallen from the nest, I picked my way across the muddy road to the other side to see what I could do.

The poor little sparrow-mother was wildly hopping about and chirping in sore distress. And what a pitiful sight greeted my eyes! Upon the wet grass, under the very jaws of an evil-looking little black-and-tan dog, was a poor, draggled, shivering baby sparrow.

At sight of me the dog coolly picked up the baby and trotted off. I followed and he soon dropped it; but I couldn't succeed in driving him away. He still remained in sight, bold and impudent.

I was in a sad dilemma. Of the two evils which confronted me, or rather the baby, which would prove the less?

The trees all about the place were tall ones, with no low branches. There was no hope of returning the baby to its nest. It was too weak from cold and fright, as well as too young, to fly. If I left it the dog would certainly return and devour it before its mother's eyes.

On the other hand, if I took it home with me it would probably die under my ignorant care. However, I decided on the latter course, so clasping it close in my hand, continued on my way.

Those who have a continual grudge against the English sparrow will say, "Why all this fuss over a miserable little nuisance of a sparrow?" and think the wisest thing would have been to leave it to its fate. But the superfluity of the English sparrow is not the question in a case like this. When something weak and helpless is thrown across our path, it simply remains for us to help and save it, if it is in our power.

On the way home I pondered a good deal over the question of how I should care for it and feed it, and what I could find to keep it in, as I had no bird-cage.

When I got Master Sparrow home, and had thoroughly warmed him and dried his little feathers (they were very few!) I put him into the best substitute for a bird-cage that I could find, and that was a large wire rat-trap!

The next question was, what to feed him. As I had seen sparrows picking at the cornmeal which we mixed and gave to the little chickens, I ventured to put some of it into his cage.

I watched him a good deal, that day and didn't see him eat a morsel. But as he seemed stronger and more lively the next day, I concluded he was bashful and only ate when I wasn't looking.

Soon, however, he grew less afraid of me and would hop about and peck at his food when I was near. I began to vary his diet, too, and gave him what green slugs I could find on the rosebushes, as well as minced earthworms. He ate the slugs eagerly and seemed to enjoy tugging at wriggling bits of earthworm.

He also began to develop quite a voice and "cheeped" so loudly that I named him "Cheeper."

I grew very fond of him and watched him grow and feather out with great pride and interest. As he became stronger he grew more eager to get out of his cage. It quite went to my heart to see him beating against, the wires, and vainly striving for freedom. But I feared he couldn't take care of himself; and also that the other birds might not receive him well.

So I kept him seven days. I put his cage in the window several times where he could look out on the world and become acquainted with the colony of sparrows which inhabits the Virginia creeper covering the north side of our house. He would "cheep" very loudly on these occasions and try harder than ever to get out. His presence in the window made a great commotion among the other sparrows, who chirped excitedly and flew about, taking long looks at him. Two of them went so far as to alight on his cage.

On the seventh day, at noon, I took his cage to the window and set him free. He flew the length of the house and settled on a rosebush at the end of the porch, where he sat for some time, peering about, with his little head comically hoisting this side and that. Presently, when I came to the window to see if he were still there, I found he had flown away; and though I thought I could distinguish his particular "cheep" several times afterwards, I saw him no more that day. Nor did I expect to see him again.

I missed him a great deal and was surprised to find how fond of him I had grown. Imagine my surprise and delight when I went out next morning to feed the chickens to find little "Cheeper" there before me! He flew onto the fence when he saw me, but soon flew down again, and hopped about among the little chicks quite fearlessly. I was afraid the big chickens would step on him; and, sure enough, the Bantam rooster did walk right over him, but he just squawked and hopped away without any apparent resentment.

The next morning he was there again, when I went out. This time he followed a hen about, hopping along with her little chicks as though he thought himself one of them. He was such a fluffy little fellow, and he did look so tiny and cunning!

Poor little motherless baby, trying to find a mother in a big hen! That was the last time I saw him.

Only a despised little English sparrow! Yet, little "Cheeper," you had your mission in life. You made the heart of one bird-lover more tender by your helplessness, and your memory is dear to her.