DON'T ROB THE BIRDS, BOYS.
Don't rob the birds of their eggs, boys,
'Tis cruel and heartless and wrong;
And remember, by breaking an egg, boys,
We may lose a bird with a song.
When careworn, weary, and lonely,
Some day as you're passing along,
You'll rejoice that the egg wasn't broken
That gave you the bird with its song.
ANON.
A GOOD SHOT
There was once a boy whose eye was so true, and whose hand was so
steady, that he became a very good marksman. If he threw a stone, or
fired at anything with his air-gun, he usually hit what he aimed at. He
took such pride and pleasure in his skill that he was always looking for
good shots.
Near his house lived a bird. Five young ones were in her nest. So many
mouths, always wide open for food, kept the little mother busy. From
morning till night she flew over fields and woods, getting worms and
bugs and seeds for her babies to eat. Every day she flew off chirping
gayly, and came back as soon as she could with a bit of food. The
smallest bird had been hurt in some way and could not cry so loudly as
the others. The mother always gave him his breakfast first.
One day when she had picked up a worm and was resting a moment, the good
marksman saw her.
Pages:
140
141
142
143
144
145
146
147
148
149
150
151
152
153
154
155
156
157
158
159
160
161
162
163
164