Newspaper Page Text
Written for Burke’s Weekly.
THE CAT BIRD.
nmM who have been
di. re g u^ar readers of Mr.
Goulding’s beautiful
story, Maroonef 8 Island ,
>?***-' will recollect Thomp
fjft son’s adventures in the cypress
swamps between Charleston and
Adam’s Run, S. C., as detailed in
% No. 17 of the Weekly. lie became
frightened at an owl, a red bird, and at
the bull frogs, which latter seemed to
know his name and all about him. But
there was a little, dark-colored bird, which
seemed, as plainly as possible, to call him
a thief. This last was a Cat Bird, a pic
ture of which we here give to our readers.
The Cat Bird is very common at the
South. lie looks something like the
mocking bird, and next to that bird
is the finest singer wo have in our
forests. lie is nearly as good a
mimic, but is inferior to the mock
ing bird in the range and variety of
his imitations. lie mimics many
birds, however, quito as well, and
has been known to imitate a tune
played on a flute very perfectly.
The Cat Bird generally builds his
nest in a close, bushy thicket. He
makes the outside of it of twigs,
dead grass and leaves, and lines it
with moss, or any other soft sub
stance that he can find. We heard
of a cat bird once who stole a piece
of nice tliread-lacc edging to line his
nest with, but the lady from whom
lie took it found the nest, and got
the lace back all safe, and not the
least bit torn. So you see that while mas
ter Cat Bird called Swan Thompson a
thief, he is a great thief himself.
A gentleman who has studied tho ways
of birds a great deal, says that he has
found in Cat Bird’s nests the cast oft skins
of snakes, which you know arc like paper;
and he also found bits of newspaper, wood
shavings, string and strips of bark from
door mats, all used by this bird in build
ing his nest.
The Sabbath is the “beautiful riv
er” in the week of time. Tho other days
are troubled streams, whose angry waters
arc disturbed by the countless crafts that
float upon them; but the pure river Sab
bath flows on to Eternal Rest, chanting
the sublime music of the silent, throbbing
spheres, and timed by the pulsations of
Everlasting Life. Beautiful river Sab
bath, glide on ! Bear forth on thy bosom
the poor, tired spirit to the rest which it
seeks, and the weary, watching soul to
endless bliss!
BURKE’S WEEKLY.
Written for Burke’s "Weekly.
A NOVEL MODE OF CALLING UP
WILD TURKEYS.
BY MRS. S. E. PECK.
Y husband lately visited
a S en^emaTl - After din
nCr they took a stroll to
visit some romantic
v scenery. While ramb
kng a k°ut they came to a secluded
fclJrL, hut, hid away in the forest. Near
this was a large tame turkey. A
? ( string was tied to a horse shoe,
and this was tied fast to one of the tur
key’s feet. My husband turned to the
gentleman for an explanation. He laugh
ed as he said :
“I did that to prevent him from stray-
ing off. I have taken the greatest pains
to make him perfectly gentle. Next
spring I shall take him with me every
morning in the woods when I go a Hunt
ing. I shall first set my turkey down
and then carefully conceal myself from
view. When he gobbles, it will cause the
wild turkeys to come to him for the pur
pose of having a fight. As soon as they
approach within shooting distance, I will
shoot and kill as many at one shot as
possible. A neighbor of mine trained
one to carry with him in the woods. At
first, his turkey was quite afraid of the
wild turkeys when he saw them ap
proaching, but after he had shot several
in his presence, he became quite brave,
and would rush up to fight with his fall
en foe.”
As my husband related the incident to
me, I could but draw a comparison be
tween tho last mentioned turkey and the
Yankees.
Trinity Station, June, 1868.
THE CAT BIRD.
Written for Burko’g Weekly.
ETHEL’S DREAM.
BY ELOISE Y. ALLEN.
gON’T you want to hear
my dream, mother ?” said
' little Ethel to her mother
one morning.
“Yes, daughter, sit
me and tell me of your
for I consider most dreams
” replied her mother,
imed that I "was walking
out and came to a little branch, which I
tried to cross by walking a log; but I had
got hardly half way over when the log
broke and I fell, not into the water, as I
expected, but into a beautiful road. I
walked on for some time, and presently
I came to a gate. As I came close
it, it swung gently open, and, moth
er, I saw the most beautiful garden
that ever existed. I don’t believe
there could in reality be one so beau
tiful. I stood looking at it a little
while when I heard the most ex
quisite music, and while I was lis
tening to it a sweet voice seemed to
say:
“ ‘Ethel! Ethel! why do you stop
to think?—why don’t you act?’
“ I went in and looked all around,
but could see no one, so I walked
on thinking this walk was prettier
than that; but it was hard to tell
which excelled the other in beauty.
I saw the nicest fruits of all kinds,
and I never before saw such pretty
flowers—not even in my dreams.
At last I came to a large peach tree, but
it had only seven peaches on it. As it
contained so few I thought I would take
them and eat them, so I pulled them all
but one, and as I raised my hand to take
it, that same sweet voice said, in one ear :
‘Don’t, my child, don’t!’ and at the same
time a hollow voice said in the other ear:
‘Take it, little one ; you have left the nicest
one!’ But I wouldn’t, and as I turned to
leave the garden I awoke. Now, mother,
tell me the meaning of this dream ?’’
“ The garden is the heart, the fruit and
flowers the good deeds and little acts of
kindness you do for those around you.
The seven peaches are the days of the
week. Had you taken the last peach, the
coarse voice, which was the tempter,
would have rejoiced, while the sweet voice,
which was the angel, would have wept.
When you break the Sabbath, you obey
the voice of the tempter; but when you
turn your back on him, you please the
angel on the right shoulder. ”
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