Vermont watchman and State journal. [volume] (Montpelier, Vt.) 1836-1883, 1880-08-04
The Good Shot A Story for Boys.

Once there was boy who was good
marksman with stone or sling-shot, or a
bow-and arrow, or a 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 of
good shots at the clock or the cat, or 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
which 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 10 dark she flew here and there,
over fields and woods and roads, getting
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 filed
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 after day, al.
ways flying off with 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
ouidlltob duu WtdhtSJ VI lutlil. ne lLllp
fellow could not ask as loudly as the others,
yet she always fed him first.
One day, when she had picked up worm,
and perched minute on wall before fly
ing 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 futtered and linped, aud 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
size 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 droll
way. think the boy would have laughed
if he had seen her tumble over.
All the rest of that day the little mother
lay there, and when she chirped her chill
dren 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 tiff, 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 was very 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 aud empty
And so, the good marksman had killed
six birds at one shot-the mother and her
five young ones. Do you not think lie 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.-St
Nicholas