Morning journal and courier., 1884-05-23
Price Two Cents

8 tree, smoked his pipe tranquilly, winkino
 his eyes as if he were sleeping. Of the Iat.
 ter was not afraid l; but the big fellow be-
 yondi
 You know. nothing, Rousetn said nv
 comrade, laughing and fsarlesaly, with his
 wings spread wide, he flew almost against
 the legs of the terrible Whiskered huntsman-
 And the truth is that the poor man was SO
 entangled in all his hunting apparel, so oc-
 cupied in admiring himself from head in
 foot, that when he got his gun to his shoul-
 der we were already out of shot. Ahi if
 sportsmen knew, when they believe them
 selves alone in some corner of the woods
 how many steady little eyes watch them
 from the thickets, how many sharp little
 peaks restrain laugh at their awkwardness
 We kept moving, always moving. Being
 able to do nothing better than follow my ans
 cient companion, my wings kept stroke with
 him, in order to fold themselves, motionless,
 as soon as he stopped. I have still before
 my eyes all the places which we passed the
 warren. pink with heather, full of burrows
 at the foot Of yellow trees, with great cur
 tain of oaks, where I seemed to see death
 hidden everywhere; the little green path where my mother partridge had so many times taken her brood to walk in the May sun, where we all hopped about, -pecking at
 the red ants which swarmed on our claws, where we met conceited little pheasants. heavy as chickens, that would not play with us.
 l saw 1t as in dream my little pathway. just as hind crossed it, high ou her slender hoofs, her great eyes wide open and ready for leap. Then the pool where they 20 in parties of fifteen or thirty, all of the same covey, rising together from the plain to drink water from the spring and spatter about the little drops which roll over their lustrous plumes. In the midst of this pool | there was clump of bushy alders it was | on this islet that we took refuge. The dogs ' would hava od k-
 there. We had been there for a moment when a roe-buck arrived, dragging himself on three feet and leaving red track on the
 mosses behind him. It was so sad to see | that hid my head under the leaves, but
 neafo the wounded animal drink at the pool, panting burning with fever
 The day declined. The reports of the guns were more distant became rarer Then ! all was still. It was finished We returned 1 slowly toward the plain to get news of our
 companions. Passing the little house in the woods l saw something horrible.
 On the edge of 8 ditch hares with red fur 1 and little gray rabbits with white tails lay | side by side. Here were little paws joined ! by death, which looked as if begging for mercy, and closed eyes which seemed to weep; then red partridges, gray cartridges | which had the horseshoe like my comrade. \ and young ones of this years brood, which, | like me, still had down under their feathers. Do you know anything sadder than a dead bird? Wings are so full of life We see | them folded and cold makes one shudder. A great deer, stately and still, appeared asleep,
 his little pink tongue hanging out of his mouth as if to lap once more.
 And the huntsmen were there, bent over
 this slaughter, counting and drawing toward
 their game bags the bloody paws, the man. 1 gled wings, careless of all these fresh-made l wounds. The dogs, coupled for the journey, I wrinkled their lips and pointed as if making ready to throw themselves anew into the un- | derbrush.
 Oh! while the great sun sank and they all departed, weary, their shadows growing long | over the hillocks of earth and the pathways | damp with evenizg dew, how I detested them, men and beasts, the whole troop Neither my companion nor had courage to | throw, as usual, little farewell note to this day as it ended.
 On our way we met unfortunate little crea- | lures, struck by a chance shot, and lying
 there abandoned to the ants and field mice,
 their muzzles full of dust; magpies, swal- | lows, lightning struck in their flight, lying on their backs and stretching their little stiff l claws toward the night, which descended quickly, as it always does in the autumn, clear, cold and damp. But the most griev- l ous Of all was to hear, along the woodside, l at the edge of the meadow and below in the willow thickets by the river, anxious, sad,
 scattered cries, to which there was no an-
 swer.