Grandpa and His "Dear"

    CAN any one say what fun there is
            In the thoughtless use of a gun,
    Which takes its aim at an innocent life,
            And, lo! that life is done?
    The merry, happy, warbling birds,
            Tho' roguish they may be,
    The song they sing is pleasanter far
            Than the bang of a gun—to me.

    "When I was a boy," said Grandpa Gray,
            "I thought, 'Now, like a man,
    I'll take my gun to the fields, and bag
            As many birds as I can.'

    "So off I went, and I banged away,
            With no thought of the pain I gave,
    Till I presently met a sweet young miss
            Trying one bird to save.
    It had fallen near with a wounded wing,
            And the look in her face so sad
    Went straight to my heart, and I felt ashamed
            Of myself for a heartless lad.

    "Well, after that, I never could aim
            At an innocent bird again,
    But—I took to hunting after the deer
            And I did not hunt in vain;
    For I've captured one, and I've never ceased
            To love and cherish my 'Dear;'
    And if you want to see her, boys,
            Why, look at your grandmother here."