192 Etnuntn of tJie ^vttn 



When the entire squirrel family were 

 playing in the maples at twilight it was a 

 lively scene. 



Just before Christmas, when the first 

 snows had come, I went home for the 

 holidays, and when I returned the gray- 

 coats were all dead. They had been 

 murdered in cold blood by a thoughtless 

 boy with a new gun. 



He had happened by the house with 

 his new fowling-piece. As the birds had 

 nearly all gone south, and most of the 

 squirrels were in their winter quarters, 

 there was not much to shoot at, and his 

 finger fairly ached to pull the trigger. 

 At least this is the only excuse I can 

 make for such a wanton act. In an evil 

 moment he remembered the squirrel fam- 

 ily that I had shown him in the big maple 

 the summer before. Seeing that my 

 grandfather and grandmother were gone 



