1 62 What Birds Have Done With Me 



a Dove is worth more to agriculture to-day than 

 for sacrifice in the old days, and more for aesthetic 

 reasons than for pie, he should go to school again 

 and be re-ordained. 



It would seem that the church whose altars, 

 through dim, dark and dreadful ages had dripped 

 with the blood of young Pigeons and Doves could 

 do no less, by way of expiation for that bloody 

 past, than turn all the power of its efficient organ- 

 ization to conserve what is left of wild-life. 



The sacred part of a temple has, of late years, 

 become associated with bird protection sacred- 

 ness like a thread of gold clinging to our tardy 

 efforts to save our vanishing wild life. Those 

 enlisted in the Grand Army of Bird Protection 

 are not Crusaders, struggling to rescue from the 

 unbeliever a Holy Sepulcher ; they are the Master 

 Builders for the coming years and their sanctu- 

 aries will be filled with life and song: 



"Till the sun grows cold, and the stars grow old 

 And the leaves of the judgment-book unfold." 



He who builds for the future, struggling to 

 improve conditions affecting all the people for all 

 time, is engaged in the only holy war that has 

 ever been waged in the history of mankind. A 

 stainless soldier is the one who fights for principle 

 and is a victor glorified compared to the one 



