Evening capital journal. (Salem, Or.) 1888-1893, 1893-05-12

pointing again Perhaps It's the nest
10 H."
In fact, among the stalks Of some
tall grass. two feet In front Of Ire.
sor's snout, I perceived four little
quails nestled close together and with
outstretched necks They breathed
go quickly thought they were trem.
bling oil over. They had already
little feathers, only their tails were
still very short.
Papa papar cried. "call back
the dog; he'll kill them too"
My father recalled Tresor and pre-.
pared TO sit down n little way off un.
der bush 10 eat some lunch. re
mained close by the nest and refused
to eat. I pulled from my pocket a
white handkerchief upon which !
placed the qunil. Look, poor or.
phaned little .ones There's your
motherl She has sacrificed herself
for you" The young birds seemed
to breathe more rapidly when I said
It, and their little bodies seemed to
tremble still more violently.
went to where my father sat.
"Will you make me present of
this quail3" asked.
"If it gives you any pleasure, of
course! But what are you going to
do with her2' uiios
"I am going tobury her."
, "R,,rv her2, a.ff
Eyes, there; right close to the nest
Give me your knife SO I can dig her
a little grave" a
a.''You expect the young to go and
pray ON the grave, ! supposed" sug-
gested my father in astonishment.
No. replied, ''but the thought
pleases me. She belongs there. close
to her nest"
Without adding another word my
father looked for his knife and hand
ed it to me. set to work at once to
dig the little hole pressed a kiss
upon my quail's breast and placed
her gently in her grave, and then !
filed it with earth. cut two sticks,
and after removing the bark l made
a cross by tying them together with
some dry blades of grass, and this ]
placed upon the grave.
We started soon afterward to go
home. At each step l turned to look
back. The cross was white, and /
could see it far off.
That night / had a dream. It
seemed to me was in heaven, and
there, perched upon tiny little
cloud, I saw my quail-the very same
quail I had buried in the morning,
only she was allwhite, like the cross
on her grave Around her head a
halo of gold spread it's luster. No
doubt. thought, a reward for what
she had suffered for the sake Of her
children.
Five or six days after returned in
company with my father to the
grave. The cross had become little
more yellow, but had remained in its
place. The nest, however, was empty;
not trace of the little ones was left.
My father assured me that the male
bird had carried them elsewhere. In
deed at that very moment, only
few steps from where we stood, the
little male flew out of a bush, and my
father forebore to fire at him-and !,
! said to myself, mo, no; papa is not
bad
Strange to say from that day my
love for hunting left me completely.
and never even thought of the gun
which my father had promised me.
Later, it is true, when / had become
a man, ] took to hunting, too, but ]
never was true sportsman.
~ One day I was hunting with friend
of mine. We soon came upon some
grouse. The mother bird rose, and
we fired. She was wounded, but did
not fall and got away with her young.
proposed following them.
4, ''Let us remain here" my friend
said. 'Well initiate their cry, and
the whole flock will return before
long"
Ny companion knew well how to
initiate the call Of these birds. We
seated ourselves among the bushes,
and my friend began his tactics. At
first young grouse answered, then 1
another, and before long the mother
herself, quite close to US, replied in q
subdued and soft voice. ] raised my
head and saw her approach through
the grass with all possible speed. Her
breast was covered with blood. The
instincts of mother were prompting
her. She evidently wished to divert
our attention.
At that moment / seemed to my
self q monster Of cruelty. I rose and
clapped my hands. The mother few
away, and the young at once became
silent. My companion was furious.
He looked at me like a madman.
"You have spoiled our entire sport"
he said. e
!. But from that day on TO kill. to
shed blood, became more and more
painful to me. me.-Translated From the
Russian of Ivan Tourgueneff For the
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