The Indianapolis journal. [volume] (Indianapolis [Ind.]) 1867-1904, 1902-02-16
A PLEA FOR
THE HUNTED

- - - I =
again This time the environment was quite
different Instead of the bewildering luxuri-
BUSINESS OF tropical forest, stony desert;
instead OF blue heavens and the golden sun.
a colorless March day in a corner OF the
Island OF Mitylene How came / there? |
was serving at the time a small dispatch
boat which made the outlandish port after
being thrown about by the equinoctials for
two days and many nights.
After the storm-cOmplete calm. and not
a human habitation far and wide There
was only one hut. where shepherds or pi-
rates may have sought rest at one time or
another. But neither door nor roof re-
manned, and the wind had swept the scant
/ furniture seaward long ago: in short, a
complete solitude. The landscape, rocks
and steppe, scarcely any trees TO speak of,
J. but concert OF bird voices in the myrtle
and fennel bushes.
LAS there is nothing TO do what's the
matter with fetching a dozen OF yOnder
prima donnas and tenors for SUPPER one
Of my friends said. Raoul was out Of sorts
and the internal sameness OF the food
| aboard ship made him worse.
Thereupon, without a moments reflections
and having only my friends comfort in
mind. 1 went out in that wretched desert.
whose only excuse for existence were its
myriads of song birds.
! Eleven singers 1 shot without turning a
hair; they fell quite a distance from me.
mortally wounded. and died without agony.
| as far as / was aware. The lesson / shall
never forget was furnished when 1 COM
| pleted the dozen.
1t happened eighteen years ago, and
| have never hunted since. but even to-day
1 can hardly find words 10 describe the
| impression this last adventure produced on
| my mind, though, taking il all in ALL IL
was less tragic than the death OF the little
monkey, for the creature my unerring bull
| let brought down in the midst OF warbiing
was a mere titmouse. the commonest Of
birds. 1t was shortly after 1 left CONSTANT
nople. where bid farewell to the luxuries
of Oriental life. Psychologically considered,
this wilderness, then. was the very place To
work a change in my sentiments.
Just before firing the fatal shot met
shepherd. the only inhabitant Of the island.
l addressed him in his own tongue and.
kind and grateful these people are. he
| showed me to a secluded spot, where daffo-
| dill lilies and big, violet wind flowers
bloomed. filing the air with fragrance as
in the valley Of the BospOrus. And pres
emily the sun broke through the leaden
| clouds announcing the coming OF spring.
and electrified by the sign from above. all
the feathered hosts doubled their ardor in
singing the praises of the creator.
On a rock within reach of me, amid a
| bunch of fennel about to flower, sat the
titmouse. She was drunk with love and joy.
the poor little one, for her mate was cours-
ing over her head, chirping sweet nothings
| at her, and as she was answering him in
her own, inimitable fashion, 1 took aim
with the indifference that characterizes US
| as beasts, and fired.
| OF course I hit her-how could help it2
and stifed the notes in her throat. In less
than a second her pretty body was but a
tattered ball. bloody nothing, fit for two
bites beneath the merciless teeth of some
human monster. All. lilies and anemones
that but yesterday were offered me by
beautiful white hand with painted nails.
spring flowers of the Orient, symbols OF in
nocence and sweetness, even you Jailed TO
turn my stony heart from that damnable.
murderous attempt. And in the midst OF
you fell the inoffensive, tiny creature, the
embodiment of JOY and hope. L killed her
as her marriage bells were ringing.
I shall never be able to fathom the mys-
FERROUS connection between the flowers, the
bird, the deserted bungalow at the bosom
of the Sweet Waters. my mistress's white
hand and the widowed mates chirps OF
horror, heaping reproaches upon me, but
do know that the deed cost me many sleep
less nights. that every little while it con-
fronts me- spelling otherwise happy hours.
| n lee
story; the tale of the murdered monkey
might have sufficed to illustrate the point
was going to make, but could not help
it, The stain is on my escutcheon and the
damned spot will not rub of.
In our days, when evolutionary tenden-
cies rise with every puff Of smoke Of every
chimney. fine men and beautiful women
are trying to abolish our chiefest school OF
negation. strength and courage-war.
War upon men, my friends, will abolish
itself if the chemists have their way, but
what about war upon poor, inoffensive ami
mails? Having confessed my sins and
atoned for them by many hours OF anguish.
I now rise TO appeal 10 all the good women
in the world to help me stamp out and
make infamous that horrible crime. Hunt
ing is nothing short of cowardy. cruel rage
of destruction. In his learned book. The
Blot Upon the Brain" dealing with insan-
ity of power, William NJ. Ireland says:
when Toghlak. Sultan Of India, arrived
in the district of Beiram he plainly told his
officers that he came not to hunt beasts.
but men, and without any obvious reason.
began to massacre the inhabitants. his
loyal subjects" PIERRE LOTT
|
COMPLETE JEWEL OUTFIT.