St. Johnsbury Caledonian. [volume] (St. Johnsbury, Vt.) 1867-1919, 1888-05-24
L
A GOOD STORY FOR BOYS.

"
How Tourguenef Felt About Killing
Wild Creatures.
Isabel F. Hapgood in the Independent.
| was 10 years old when that which
l am about to relate to you happened
to me. 1t was in the summer time.
was then living on a farm in southern
Russia. Round about the farm, for {
distance of several versts, stretched
wild plains. There was no forest Oh
river in the vicinity !; shallow ravines
overgrown with bushes intersected the
level steppes here and there, like long
green serpents. Rivulets f1owedthrOugh
the bottoms of these ravines and here
and there, just below the brink, springs
could be seen, with water as transpa-
rent as tears well-trodden paths led
to them, and beside the water, on the
damp soil, the tracks of bird and OF
small animals crossed each other.
Ny father was an ardent sportsman
and whenever he was not engaged
with his farming-and the weather
was favOrable-he took his gun, put on
his game bag, whistled to his old
Treasure and set off to shoot patridges
and quails. He scorned hares, leaving
them for those sportsmen who hunted
with dogs and whom he called "grey
hOunders." We had no other game,
except that in the autumn wOodcOcks
came to us sometimes. But there were
a great many cartridges and quails,
particularly cartridges. Along the
yerges of the ravlnes you were con-
stantly coming upon circles e~xcavated
in the dry dust, where they had been
scratching. Old Treasure Immediate
ly made IA stand, his tail quivering the
while, and the skin on his forehead
contracting into folds but my fathers
face turned pale, and he cooked his
gun.
He often took me with him-and this
was my greatest pleasure. L tucked
my trousers into the legs of my boots,
slung Il small flask across my shoulders
and fancied myself a sportsman The
p~erspiration poured from me in streams,
the little pebbles made their way into
my boots =; but | was conscious of no
WEAKNESS, and did not lag behind my
father; and when the shot rang out
and the bird fell, L jumped up and
down where L stood and even scream =
ed, L was so delighted. The wounded
bird struggled and beat its wings, first
OH the grass, then in Treasures teeth
blood dripped from it; nevertheless
| was delighted and felt IL 20 compassion.
What would L not have given TO be
able to find IA gun myself and kill par
tridges and quails But my father
announced that [ was not to have Il
gun until L vas IL years old and then
he would give me a single barreled
gun, and allow me to shoot larks only.
Once on a time, father and L set out
Oh a hunting expedition, just before
St. Peters day. At that season the
young cartridges are still small. Fa-
ther did not wish to shoot them, and
so went among the small oak shrubs,
by the side of a rye-field, where qaails
were always to be found. 1t was hard
to NOW there-the grass had stood I'M
disturbed for a long while. Such Il
quantity of flowers grew ~there-vetch-
es, and clover and bluebells, forget-me-
nOts and wild pinks. When [ went
thither with my sister or the maid, L
always plucked whole armfuls of
them ; but when | went with father L
plucked no flowers. | considered that
occupation as beneath the dignity of Il
sportsman.
All at once Treasure made a point;
my father shouted, "Fetch itw and
from beneath Treasures very nose a
quail leaped up and flew away. But
she flew very oddly ; she turned som
ersaults, twisted in a circle, anu fell on
the ground, exactly as though she were
wounded, or as though her wing was
broken. Treasure rushed after her at
the full speed of his legs; he neve did
this when the bird flew as it should.
Father could not even shoot, because
he was afraid that he would hit the
dog with the small shot. And, sud-
denly, | see that Treasure has over
taken her, ~and-slapi he has caught
the quail, has brought it and given it
to my father. My father took it and
laid it in his palm, with it's belly up. L
to him.
"What is it ~ L say. "Was she
wounded 2"
"No," replies my father "she was
not wounded but she must have a
nest of young ones near by, and she
pretended to be wounded on purpose,
that the dog would think that he
could catch her easily"
"What did she do that for 2" [ asked.
"In order to lead the dog away from
her little ones. Afterward she would
flown well. Only, on this occa-
sion, she miscalcutated. She pretend
ed too we'll and Treasure caught her."
$50 she is not wounded 81 | inquired
again.
"No, but she will not live. Treas
ure must have crushed her with his
teeth"
L approached nearer to the quail.
She lay m~otionless in my fathers hand
with her little head hanging and look
ing sideways at me with her little
brown Dyes. And, all at once, | felt
so sorry for heri 1t seemed to me that
she was gazing at me and thinking:
'Why must | def For what ease I
Surely, l have done my duty; L have
to save my little ones, to lead the
dog as far away as possible-and [ am
Poor II Poor creature! This
is unjust-unjust!
"Papa !" said l, perhaps she will
not die" and l tried to stroke the quail
the head. But my father said to
me-: "No; look here; she has just
stretched out her legs, she is quiyering
all over, and her eyes are closing.D
And SO it was. AS soon as she closed
her eyes l burst out crying.
"What's the matter with o 7' ask
ny father, and began to laugh. J