A pity 'tis, aye, 'tis a shame
 
That rests on all mankind,
 
That human beings in cruelty
 
Can sport and pleasure find.
 
 
THERE never was a more beautiful day than that crisp October one. It was one of those days when you just feel all over how good it is to be alive. Bob White felt it. He tingled¹ all over with the joy of living just as soon as he opened his eyes very early that morning. He whistled for very joy. He loved all the Great World, and he felt that all the Great World loved him. He wanted to tell the Great World so. The Merry Little Breezes of Old Mother West Wind, tumbling out of the big bag in which she had brought them down from the Purple Hills to play all day long on the Green Meadows, danced over to tell him that they loved him. This made Bob still happier.
 
A certain man tramping along the road toward the home of Farmer Jones was feeling glad, but his gladness was of a different kind. “I guess we are going to have some sport, old fellow,” said he to the dog trotting² at his heels, and shifted a terrible gun from one shoulder to the other.
 
Now if Bob White had understood the warning given him by Farmer Brown's boy he never, never would have done as he did. But he didn't understand that warning, and so when he took it into his pretty little head that he wanted to try his wings he led his family straight over to the land of Farmer Jones. He often had been there before, and he saw no reason why he shouldn't go there as often as he pleased. No harm had come from these previous visits. So straight over to the stubble of Farmer Jones' wheat-field he led the way, and soon he and his family were very busy picking up scattered³ grains of wheat and were happy as you or I would be over a good breakfast.
 
Right in the midst of it Bob's quick ears heard footsteps. He stretched his neck to peep over the stubble, and suddenly all the gladnes............