Nine o'clock
He has never contemplated these tile-colored heights which intersect each other ; he has not followed with his eyes these gutter-valleys , where the fresh verdure of the attic gardens waves , the deep shadows which evening spreads over the slated slopes , and the sparkling of windows which the setting sun has kindled to a blaze of fire . He has not studied the flora of these Alps of civilization , carpeted by lichens and mosses ; he is not acquainted with the myriad inhabitants that people them , from the microscopic insect to the domestic cat -- that reynard of the roofs who is always on the prowl , or in ambush ; he has not witnessed the thousand aspects of a clear or a cloudy sky ; nor the thousand effects of light , that make these upper regions a theatre with ever-changing scenes ! How many times have my days of leisure passed away in contemplating this wonderful sight ; in discovering its darker or brighter episodes ; in seeking , in short , in this unknown world for the impressions of travel that wealthy tourists look for lower ! Nine o'clock . -- But why , then , have not my winged neighbors picked up the crumbs I have scattered for them before my window ? I see them fly away , come back , perch upon the ledges of the windows , and chirp at the sight of the feast they are usually so ready to devour ! It is not my presence that frightens them ; I have accustomed them to eat out of my hand .