Bird Stories and Dog Stories

      THE BIRD SOLDIER

      Little bird! you had better let that cannon alone; I am afraid you will soon fall by its side. But what are you firing at? You don’t mean to let us see; never mind—only be sure that you don’t kill yourself, nor any body else.

      Can it be that you are doing all that for play? If so, you must be very fond of fire-works. But you hardly look cross enough to kill any body.

      If you do such a thing, you know what must be done; you will either be hung, or put in prison for life: but they don’t hang much, now-a-days; so, perhaps, they will only shut you up.

      IS IT A FUNERAL?

      What is that? A bird’s funeral? So it seems, for the bird in the wheelbarrow certainly appears to be dead, and another one is wheeling him to the grave; or perhaps he found him dead, and is going now to carry him home. But what is that bird, with a cap on, doing? Did he shoot the poor bird? He has a gun; but I should hardly think he would follow his neighbor to the grave, if he was his murderer.

      Tell me, children, if you can, how it was, and who did it, for it looks like a sad affair. Do people ever get into such kinds of trouble? They often die, and too often kill each other. Learn a lesson from this, never to get angry, lest you some day kill your fellow-creature.