"
On reaching the cottage they found our worthy friend, old Sam Roberts,
in the garden, throwing crumbs of bread to a busy little flock of
sparrows, behind one of the back windows that opened into it. His honest
but manly face was lit up with all the eager and boisterous enjoyment
of a child whilst observing with simple delight the fierce and angry
quarrels of the parents, as they fought on behalf of their young, for
the good things so providentially cast in their way.
"Come, now," said Sam, "I'm commissary-general for this day, and, for a
miracle, an honest one--fight fair, you wretches--but I don't wonder at
the spunk you show, for the rations, I can tell you, are better, poor
things, than you are accustomed to. Hello, there! you, sir--you big
fellow--you hulk of a cock--what business have you here? This is a
quarrel among the ladies, sirrah, who are mothers, and it is for their
young ones--on behalf of their children--they are showing fight; and
you, sir, you overgrown glutton, are stuffing yourself, like many
another 'foul bird' before you, with the public property.
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