The Republican. [volume] (Oakland, Md.) 1877-current, 1880-06-26
THE GOOD SHOT.

ONCE there was a boy who was
good marksman with a stone, or sling
shot, or q bow-and-arrow, or cross
bow, or an air-gun, or anything he took
aim with. So he went about all day,
aiming at everything he came near.
Even at his meals he would think about
good shots at the clock, or the cat, OF
the flies on the wall, or his mothers
left eye-glass, or anything he CHANGED
to see.
Near where he lived there lived
little bird who had a nest and five
young birds. So many large mouths in
small heads, always. wide open for
food, kept her hard at work. From
dawn to dark she flew here and there,
over fields and woods and roads, get
ting worms, and flies, and bugs, and
seeds, and such things as she knew
were good for her young birds. 1t was
great wonder what lots of food those
five small things could eat. What she
brought each day would have filled that
nest full up to the top, yet they ate it
all and asked for more before daylight
next morning.
Though it was such hard work, she
was glad to do it, and went on day aft
er day, always flying Off with 3 gay
chirp, and back quick with bit of
some kind of food. And though she
did not eat much herself, except what
stuck to her bill after she had fed them,
yet she never let them want; not even
the smallest and weakest of them. The
little fellow could not ask as loudly as
the others, yet she always fed him first.
One day, when she had picked up a
worm, and perched minute on wall
before flying to her nest, the good
marksman saw her, and of course
aimed at her and hit her in the side.
She was much hurt and in great pain,
yet she fluttered and limped, and
dragged herself to the foot of the tree
where her nest was, but she could not
fly up to her nest, for her wing was
broken. She chirped little and the
young ones heard her, and as they were
hungry they chirped back loudly, and
she knew all their voices, even the weak
note of the smallest of all, but she could
not come up to them, nor even tell them
why she did not come. And when she
heard the call of the small one she tried
again to rise, but only one of her wings
would move, and that just turned her
over on the side of the broken wing in
a droll way. l think the boy would
have laughed if he had seen her tum-
BILE over.
All the rest of that day the little
mother lay there, and when she chirped
her children answered, and when they
chirped she answered, only when the
good marksman CHANGED to pass near
by; then she kept quite still. But her
voice grew fainter and weaker, and late
in the day the young ones could not
hear it any more, but she could still
hear them. Some time in the night the
mother-bird died, and in the morning
she lay there quite cold and stiff, with
her dim eyes still turned up to the nest
where her young ones were dying of
hunger.
But they did not die so soon. All
day long they slept, until their hunger
walked them up, and then called until
they were so tired they fell asleep again.
And the next night wasvery cold, and
they missed their mothers warm
breast, and before day-dawn they all
died, one after the other, excepting the
smallest, which. was lowest down in the
nest. And in the morning he pushed
up his head and opened his yellow mouth
to be fed; but there was no one to feed
him, and so he died, too, at last, with
his mouth still wide open and empty.
And so the good marksman had
killed six birds at one shot-the mother
and her five young ones. Do you not
think he must be proud boy? Should
you not like to do the samep
If you know him, please read this
little tale to him. He may like to hear
it.--Joseph kirkland, IN 50. Nicholas.