Catoctin clarion. [volume] (Mechanicstown, Md.) 1871-1940, 1897-11-04
An Open Letter TO Whom it May


All honor to the man whose voice has rung
out in behalf Of the rights of our helpless
neighbors, our lower kin, our little brothers
and sisters of the field and torest-birds and
other game. That explanation of Dir. Chas,
Shipley to give to the birds "a paradise UNI
molested' has raised lis action beyond the
pale of selfish exclusiveness and criticism,
and placed 1t where 1t properly belongs, in
the category of dislntercstcd regard for help.
less innocence.
1t is religion with firm grip on the cihi.
fiom ethics is no more than shadow, and so
| want to add my protest to neighbor Ship,
ley's; not because | wish the game for my
own use, for could not and would not use
it but because recognize the sanctily and
divineness of all life, and respect it amid the
lower as among the higher forms. The beau
tiful game that abounds in our forests are
Gods creatures and as much entitled to life,
liberty and the pursuit of happiness as my
self, and believe no man can wantonly in
jure them without chcapcning his hold upon
TIE sancti,lcs of life and blnnting the edge Of
his moral consciousness. Neither do look
al this matter from the low standpoint of the
Ladies' Home Journal, that of utility. There
are aesthetic, moral and religious consi,lcra-
tons that far outweigh all objections made
upon the score Of utility. The humanitarian
viewpoint is OF supreme Importance to every
right thinking mind.
After fifteen years OF protest against the
cruelty of the huntsman, you can imagine
the torture one must endure to listen dry
after day, and sometimes the whole night
long. to the crack Of the rifle and the cry of
dogs Some hunter after killing off the
mother, unknowingly left in my field nest
of young rabbits that grew 30 tame they
would come out and feed with nv chickens,
but as they have ceased to take their daily
froics and meals, infer they have gone the
way of all my gamc,to satisfy the vicious
hankering of the cruel huntsman.
recommend to my sporting friends my
ideal hunter, The Bloodlcss Sportsman by
Sam. Walter Foss 10 he found on the fourth
page of this paper. How many men could
answer to Emerson's high definition of n
friend, one "who hast named all the birds
without Il gnn?'
| will make bold to mention another phase
Of this question. On recent Sunday | at
tended one of our local churches and within
small radius OF my vision, SO far rs could
see without twisting my head, counted no
less than eleven hats with the mangled re-
mains Of birds and plumage, and this in q
christian church, where people were en-
gagged in the worship Of that God of whom
their master had said. Not a sparrow falls
to the ground with His notice" confess
my attention was diverted from The sermon
The words of the poet drowned those of The
preacher.
The organ rolls down its great anthem;
With the soul of so 6 it is blent;
But for me- | am sick for the singing,
OF one little soul that is spent.
THE voice of the cureate ia gentle,
No sparrow shall fall to the ground;
But the poor broken wing on the bonnet,
Is mocking the mcrciful sound
Forgive me dear christian women among
whom count my friends, but let me say it
plainly, the fashion is relic of barbarism;
the desire that prompts II, is the faint in the
blood Of our savage ancestry. 1t is one in
essence with the same vanity that prompts
the Indian woman to adorn her person with
beads and feathers.
Let us be modest in our boast Of christian
culture, for even the 80 called "heathcn'
could teach us in this respect. All the pa.
gan bibles have something to say about
Gods love and care of the animal creation,
and pronounce blessings upon those who
are kind toward them. In Japan one who
Stays bird or other harmless animal is re-
gardcd us a murderer and is treated as a
criminal.
remember dear good woman who, I'M
der the name Of Amber, used to write for
the Chicago Record, She said, lam waiting
until become a sweet. voiced, grayhared
old lady, then whenever see a young lady
with a bird on her hat, am going to aay to
her, My dear, let us pray"
And now let one of our local preachers
give us sermon straight from the shoulder
on this thome. | am waiting.
S.NNA j. NDEEIs