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DEATH OF THE BIRDS. 127 
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dropped into the waves; and as the vessel sailed away I 
left you to your sad fate. At other times you fell on 
deck, for you were not strong enough to perch. Then 
how your bright little eyes became dim, for the touch of 
death was soon to close them, despite the care and the 
little water I would give you. Howsweetly you looked 
as you laid still in the embrace of death! The storms 
of your life were over, your sorrows were ended, and 
your merry songs were to be heard no more in the 
groves you used to love. I know of nothing sweeter to 
look at than a dead little bird! and yet there is nothing 
which more pathetically touches my heart. 
When the eagle, the hawk, and the falcon soar high in 
the sky, I know that they are your enemies. When the, 
snake glides from branch to branch in search of your 
nest, to destroy your offspring, I know that pain will 
reach your heart. When you and your mate are flying 
above the earth, perchance a heartless sportsman appears, 
and with his gun brings one of you down. Howl have 
seen you follow the unfortunate one in its downward 
flight! How painful to hear wae you cries; how you 
tried to arrest the fall of the poor wounded one, and 
how touching was the scene as you soared and soared 
above the body of the little victim who had fallen on the 
ground. So plaintive were your cries that they ought 
to have disarmed the ruthless hand that separated you, 
so that he would say to himself—‘ I will nevermore kill 
a harmless little bird, for God has given them to us to 
cheer, to enliven the nature that surfunds us.” When 
night comes, and your mate does not return, how anxious 
and sad you seem to feel! Perhaps a cruel cat, or some 
wild animal has destroyed his life. How often I have 
