Mbere tbe /iDocfting=t)frJ> Sings 



coast of all their melody and all their wing- 

 rustle. 



But I must not do injustice to the 

 shooters, black or white. The birds — not 

 only the mockers, but nearly all the others 

 as well — are probably doomed to complete 

 or approximate extinction. The man with 

 the gun, or, if you please, with the bow, is 

 not the malefactor that some good souls 

 imagine him to be. He is guilty of sundry 

 depredations, sins against the law of uni- 

 versal bird protection, that he cannot deny ; 

 but he may well object to vicarious re- 

 ceptivity when the day of punitive gift- 

 offering comes, and somebody proposes 

 making him the recipient of every other 

 transgressor's share as well as his own. 



The boy who shoots with an air-gun 

 or a cheap fowling-piece or an india-rub- 

 ber sling must take second place in the 

 rank of martyrs. He kills a few little 

 birds and frightens many. He is a nui- 

 sance and should be purified ; but he gets 

 far more blame than his actual misde- 

 meanors deserve. Then comes the col- 

 lector of skins and feathers, the man who 

 75 



