Oxford Democrat., 1911-10-10
.lohnss lAtkGf.

Arc You In any degree interested 10
tho birds Of passage? And do you not
sometimes wonder what In time pos
sesses them ct certain seasons OF the
year to turn their little bird-thoughts
toward the Southland, where they are
shot st and slaughtered indiscriminately
a. q mere lust for killing something,
and for the ornamentstIon Of hats that
are Just too sweet for anything but sugar
scoopsP Is 1t Q mere habit OF theirs,
formed away back yonder somewhere
In the early morning twilight gray OF
time. soon after the first hatch outside
the garden walls Of paradise-of don't
you know?
A. far back - your memory runs,
whom the summer was ended, the bar
vest was passed, or was passing, you
have seen them forming into companies,
and With hardly . note OF farewell, never
Q drum beat, never bugle call, they
were up and away to the Southland, ana
. silence fell upon. woodland and or
chard. Your homes were left unto you
desolate, for the birds had ceased to
sing.
You do not suppose, do you, that the
God who built the world and the million
of worlds that swing and sing above us,
when He turned his thought to the max
ing of birds, fixed their characteristics
for all timer The whispered word OF
command to 20 and come again was
uttered once for all, and not through oil
tho unnumbered ages of the past have
they failed to obey the command once
uttered.
True patriots are the birds. For them
there Is no East and no West, no North
and no South. Upon their chart there
is not, there never has been, and there
never will be q Mason and Dixon's line.
And, although the republic has been un.
grateful to q degree, they forgive and
forget and keep right on blessing the
land they love with service and with
song. True patriots they and worthy
example to follow.
Within the narrow scope OF our little
memory we have seen boys. OF varying
ages, copying after the birds and follow
ing their fight to the Southland, there
to be shot at and slaughtered and left
In unknown graves somewhere meath
the southern grasses, In their faded
coats of blue, over whom the flowers are
blooming and the birds are singing to-
day. We have seen them forming into
companies with resolute hearts, set
faces and firm footsteps turning toward
land of hostile strangers, leaving be-
hind sad hearts, clinging hands and tear
wet eyelashes. Their goings were not
In silence and unnoted ss the birds go.
The drum beat, the bugle sounded, and
tramp, tramp, tramp. the boys were
marching. "Ny country calls and /
must CO." 1--WE are coming, Father
Abraham, three hundred thousand
more" That's the way they sang 1t,
and that's the way they did 1t In the
brave days of old.
But there was another call than that,
not loud but low, q still small voice un'
heard by mortal ears, yet obeyed blindly
as the birds obey. 1t was the call OF the
God of armies and navies, of nations
and of men, II He yet retains control
ling interest in the nations, moving In
fluence upon the work of his hands from
sparrows to men. 1t has never been re
vealed to Us that He has sbdicated ir
favor of blind Chance. Sometimes II
does appear that the nation Is drifting
helpless and ruddsrless on an outgoing
tide, but we still hold to the hope tina,
1t is not hopeless drifting, but that II
il still held by that invisible cord to
the Rock that is high ss Heaven.
| JOHN,