Iron County register. [volume] (Ironton, Iron County, Mo.) 1867-1965, 1888-03-29

upon the topmost branch Of some appl,
tree at early morning, he would pou
out bis rich, sweet notes of praise. /
makes one feel as though little specl
of heaven had come down to earth te
make glad the heart of man. How
fresh it brings to mind that beautiful
| hymn:
"The winter is over and gone,
The thrush whistles sweet on the spray,
The turtledove breaths forth his soft moan
The lark mounts up and scars away"
What would world be without the
little birds? Life would loose half oil
its sweetness if all the sweet song birds
were destroyed. [ shall never forget
the first bird I ever killed and how bad
[ felt after had killed it. My father
had piece of corn planted aud it had
just began to come up. He found
something was pulling the young corn
up. One pleasant morning he said to
me, "You take your gun and go to the
cornfield, and if you see any birds pull
ing up the corn shoot them" My
father loaded the gun for me and
showed me how to load it. AS we had
no shot we used white beaps for shot.
After he had loaded that old gun with
powder and beans / started for the
field of corn, but could find no birds
disturbing the corn. I wandered
rround the field until 1 began to feel
tired and at last [ saw brown thrush,
as we call them, sitting in the top of
an apple tree, singing with all his
might. thought, now you have had
your breakfast of corn you feel very
happy, but l will make you pay for it,
SO fired away at him, and. sure enough
[ he'd hit him. AS he fell to the ground
I ran to pick him up. The bird was
not dead, but one of the beans had hit
it over the eye. AS I came up to it I
saw large drop of blood over its eye.
AS l put my hand out to take the bird
up it poured forth a few notes of dy
ing song and died. AS / looked at that
bird and saw it close its eyes in death,
I'felt as though ! had murdered that
poor bird-I just lay down on the
ground and cried I felt so bad; / could
not help it. I then and there made
vow would never kill one of those
little song birds again.
"Don't kill the birds, the little birds,
That sing about your door
Soon as the joyous spring has come,
And chilly storms are o'er."
No; don't kill the little birds. they
do no one any harm. What if they
do eat few cherries Or other berries,
do they not pay for all they eat? Just
watch them as they go hopping from
branch to branch in the trees and see
them stop and pick off the eggs of the
insects that every year destroy SO much
fruit in all of the orchards in the coun-
try; and do they net pay for all they
eat in sweet songo We do not begrudge
the dollars we pay to hear some noted
singer, and should we grudge the little
songsters while they sing for what
they eat.
"The little birds, how sweet they sing,
Oh, let them joyous live;
And do not seek to take the life,
Which you can never give"
How angry I feel sometimes when 1
see men and boys roaming around the
fields shooting everything that flies in
the air, just for sport. How many
men, grown men, men that ought to
have more sense, see with gamebags
filled with meadowlarks, robins, black
birds. sparrows, bob-o-links, and all
kinds of little song birds, and little
birds of beautiful plummage. 1t is
shame! a shame!
''Don't kill the birds, the pretty birds,
That play among the trees;
'Twould make the earth a cherries place,
To see no more of these"
And I thank our heavenly Father
that old Missouri has had men with
heads large enough to pass laws for the
protection Of the beautiful, innocent,
useful birds, and I thank Him again
that we have men now that will care
for them; and will here say I, for one
and I am not alone-will see that on
my premises, at least, the law shall
not be violated; that any man or per-
son found shooting will be brought to
an account tor unlawfuIly killing birds,
and for trespassing, also. No man has
the right to enter another PERSONS
premises without permission. My farm
is mine as much as the money or the
gun the trespasser has is his, for all
the doctrines of Mr.. George or anyone
else to the contrary. S.
"Don' kill the birds, the happy birds,
That cheer the field and grove;
Such harmless things to look upon,
They claim our warmest love-"
T. p. r.
WatteIson ON George.
Watterson wiggles wonderfully when