THE OUTRAGED BIRD. 



Once upon a time, nearly seventy years 

 ago, a little boy in a New England town 

 was given a gun on the condition that 

 he must not shoot any birds except those 

 that robbed the corn fields. In those 

 days farmers thought that the crow, 

 brown thrasher and crow-black-bird stole 

 so much grain that it was right to kill 

 them and therefore a bounty, large for 

 that time, of twenty-five cents was of- 

 fered for every crow destroyed. Nowa- 

 days we are wiser and this very boy who 

 has grown into a tall, gray haired, ten- 

 der hearted man, says that there is not 

 a bird living that is not more of a bless- 

 ing than a curse. 



But to go on with my story. The little 

 gunner went out one day to see what he 

 could hit with his new gun. About a 

 quarter of a mile from the house he spied 

 a little bird in a tree on the edge of the 

 woods. He took aim and fired. He did 

 not kill the bird, did not even seriously 

 wound it, only injured one of its wings. 

 The bird dropped down at his feet and 



began chirping and scolding as if to de- 

 mand an explanation. 



The boy tried to get away but every 

 time he moved aside the poor little out- 

 raged creature hopped in his path, never 

 ceasing his vehement, indignant protest 

 against the unwarrantable deed. 



Finally the conscience-smitten boy, 

 seeing that there was no escape for him 

 and pitying the wounded condition of the 

 bird, killed it outright, carrying away 

 in his throat a great lump and in his 

 heart a sharp pain that will never die 

 out. Although he is now over eighty 

 years of age he says that he would gladly 

 give all the money he owns if he could 

 undo that one thoughtless act. 



When a bird can say so plainly that 

 his life is his own and no one has a 

 right to wantonly take it from him, what 

 must have been the thought of that bird's 

 loving Creator, without whose knowledge 

 and pity not even a sparrow falls to the 

 ground ! 



Fannie Skelton Bissell. 



NICODEMUS. 



Nicodemus was a pet blackbird. A 

 sleet storm broke the bough on which the 

 nest was built, and all the birds, save one, 

 were killed in the fall. This one, Nico- 

 demus, was placed in an old hat lined 

 with wool, and kept near the fire until he 

 was ready to fly about the room. He 

 was an apt scholar, and soon knew his 

 name, responding readily to every call. 

 When the weather became warm he was 

 allowed the freedom of the yard. When- 

 ever his mistress saw a stray cat about 

 she would go out on the porch to his 

 cage, strike upon it, and call : "Nicode- 



mus !" "Nicodemus !" whereupon the 

 bird would fly into his cage for safety. 



One day an aged gentleman called at 

 the house. Nicodemus came into the 

 parlor. At first he nestled upon his mis- 

 tress' shoulder, but his curiosity seemed 

 much excited, and he soon flew to the old 

 gentleman, alighted upon his bald head, 

 when he began a vigorous scratching. 



"For shame, Nicodemus ! Come here 

 at once," cried the lady. He obeyed, but 

 with a really abashed look. 



Belle Paxson Drury. 



175 



