THE STRIKE AT SHANE'S.
GOLD MINE SERIES No. 2,
Sequel to " BLAOK BEAUTY."
A PRIZE STORY OP INDIANA.
WRITTEN FOE, AWD REVISED, COPYRIGHTED,
AND PUBLISHED BY THE
'AMERICAN HUMANE EDUCATION SOCIETY."
For prices, etc., write Geo. T. Angell, President,
19 Milk Street, Boston.
COPTRIGHT, 1893,
BY
The American Humane Education Society,
All rights reserved.
TUFTS UNIVERSITY LIBRARIES
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3 9090 014 545 947
Seaverns
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1893
1^^ All humane persons who read and become
interested in this book, and would like to aid in giving
it a gratuitous circulation in schools and elsewhere,
widely over our country, are respectfully requested to
send checks or donations for that purpose to our
treasurer, or to
Geo. T. Angell, President,
19 Milk Street, Boston.
The American Humane Education Society, incorporated
by the Legislature of Massachusetts in the spring of 1889,
with power to hold half a million of dollars free from
taxation, in addition to sending its monthly paper, ^'•Our
Dumb Animals^"' to all editors in North America north of
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and Southern States and Territories, and a great variety of
other humane vv'ork, has published and caused to be
circulated (1st) nearly a million and a half copies of '•'•Black
Beauty;'' (2d) many thousands of copies of "Autobiogra-
phical Sketches " by its President, and now sends out this
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thinks may obtain as wide a circulation as '•'• Black Beauty .^''
It is intended to sell this, as all other of the Society's
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kindly requested to write or send checks or remittances to
Joseph L._ Stevens, Assistant Treasurer of the American
Humane Education Society, or to me.
GEO. T. ANGELL,
President of the American Humane Education Society, the
Massachusetts Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to
Animals, and the Parent American Band of Mercy, 19
Milk Street, Boston.
On the last pages of this book will be found much
information.
The American Humane Education Society.
GEO. T. ANGELL, President.
JOSEPH L. STEVENS, Sec'y and Ass't Treas,
Hon. henry O. HOUGHTON, Treasurer,
(OF HOUGHTON, MIFFLIN <Sr CO.)
THE AMERICAN HUMANE EDDCATION SOCIETY.
^^ The first and only Society of its kind in the "World.
The American Humane Education Society was incorpor-
ated as a National Society by Act of the Legislature of
Massachusetts, March, 1889, with power to hold half a
million of dollars free from taxation.
It received during its first year in its permanent fund real
estate given by its president^ valued at over thr^e thousand
dollars^ and for present and future use money given by
persons in various States to the amount of over eight
thousand dollars more.
It has received much larger sums since.
Its object is to carry humane education into all our
American schools and homes, and to found " Humane
Societies " and '•''Bands of Mercy " over the whole American
Continent.
]
AMElilCAX HUM AXE EDUCATION SOCIETY,
Its directors hold office for life; when one, dies the others
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three of whom are Catholics, and eleven Protestants, and
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Among them are Hon. Henry 0. Houghton^ senior partner
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Among the w^ork already accomplished by it in the last
four years has be^ the establishing, through its mission-
aries and otherwise, of numerous " Humane Societies " in
different parts of our country, and many thousands of
branches of its '-'- Parent Band of Mercy ,^'' which now numbers
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It has printed and circulated and caused to be circulated
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AMEEICAN HUMANE EDUCATION SOCIETY,
North America north of Mexico^ receiving iu return many
thousands of copies of their publications containing
articles taken from it.
It has offered prizes to all the college students of America
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For the purpose of obtaining information on the following
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portation^ Treatment of Cattle on the Plains^ Effects of
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It has offered a prize for the best drama of '•'• Black
Beauty " suitable for presentation in our theatres.
It has corresponded with tJ^e presidents of all American
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It has printed in a single year over one hundred and nine
millions of pages of humane literature.
This is only a partial statement of the work already
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within the past four years.
All persons wishing further information as to its plans
AAIEIUCAX HUMANE EDUCATION SOCIETY.
iiud purposes will receive prompt answers by writing the
undersigned, and all wishing to send checks or remittances
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Boston, or to the undersigned.
All such will be most thankfully received and acknow-
ledged in the columns of '■'■ Our Dumb Animals,-' which goes,
among others, to the editor of every newspaper and magazine in
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all making such remittances.
Geo. T. Angell,
President of the American Humane Education Society, the
Massachusetts Society for the Prevention of Cruelty
to Animals, and the Parent American Band of Mercy,
19 Milk Street, Boston.
"THE STRIKE AT SHANE'S."
INTRODUCTORY. ,
I I I HIS story is intended to point out in a homely way
W I some of the mistaken ideas held by men in general
®J^® in regard to the relations existing between the
human race and the lower animals and birds.
The popular remedy of the laboring classes of the pres-
ent age, when the conditions of their employment become
oppressive, is to inaugurate a strike; and in the following
narrative sufficient intelligence has been accorded to the
lower animals to enable them to employ the methods of
human toilers in righting their wrongs.
It is true the relation of employer and employee does
not exist between man and his domestic animals, but rather
that of master and slave ; and until the law-making power
takes some measures to regulate and restrain man's domin-
ion over them, it is left for the educators of the times to
appeal to an awakened conscience for an amelioration of
their condition.
Men are often blinded by the glitter of gold to the bless-
ings that God has given us, and forget that our dominion
over the lower animals was given by a decree of the
Almighty, and that that dominion should be exercised in
the same spirit that God exercises his ruling power over us.
The following pages are intended to show the results that
would naturally follow if the support and assistance given u§
by the loioer animals and birds should be withdrawn^ as wozild
J>e the case if they should exercise the same rights claimed by
human toilers and go on a stnke.
Author.
s^
THE STRIKE AT SHANE'S.
CHAPTER I.
EE up, there, Dobbin ! Whoop ! " With a
shout that rang through the forest Tom
Shane let the heavy " black snake " whip
fall on the flanks of the two willing horses.
Again and again the heavy whip fell on the " o^'"
horse, which was apparently unable to "pull even"
with the younger liorse on the "near" side. The
horses tugged at the traces, and floundered about in
the mud, but were unable to move the heavy load to
which they were hitched.
"Be aisy there now, Tom, will ye? It's stuck ye
are now, sure enough," said an Irishman who came
up just then.
"It's all on account of that lazy Dobbin," said Tom,
"he didn't pull a pound."
"Arrah, there now, it's forgettin' the age o' the
horse ye are. Sure^ there icasn't a horse on the j>/«c6
L'ould pull irid him u:hrn he was younger. It's gettin'
along in the years I am mesilf , an' age will be wearin'
the strength o' a horse the same as a man. Let 'em
stand 'til I get a bit of a pry under the wheel.**
He procured a fence rail, and proceeded to put it un-
4 THE STBIKE AT SHANKS,
der the wheel as a lever to lift it a little out of the
''chuck hole "where it Jiad stopped. Those who are
familiar with the ungravelled roads of Indiana in
former years need not be told what a "chuck hole" is ;
but to those not experienced in such matters it might
be explained that heavy hauling over these roads will
wear deep holes with sharp edges, and when the wheel
of a loaded wagon drops into one of these holes it is
very difficult to pull it out. Thanks to an increased
population, such roads are not so numerous as they
were in former years, and teaming is not necessarily
such a horse-killing business as it used to be.
"Now, will ye give 'em another pull?" said Mike,
who had his " bit of a pry" under the wheel, and was
dangling on the end of it doing his best to lift the
wheel a little.
"Give 'em a sclimall taste of the whip, to encourage
'em a little," he cried.
Again the whip was unsparingly used by Tom, and
the two horses exerted all their powers, but only suc-
ceeded in moving the wagon enough to let Mike's pry
slip out, and he came sprawling down in the mud.
But more serious results had followed. Old Dobbin was
down, and Tom, in his anger, was cutting him with his
whip to make him get up.
"Hould on there, bye," shouted Mike, coming for-
ward, covered with mud. "Ye wouldn't sthrike a man
whin he's down ; thin why don't ye show the same
dacency to a dumb brute ! Unhitch the chains there ;
don't you see the ould horse is chokin' ? "
THE STBIKE AT SHANE'S, ft
*' Little do I care if he dies," said Tom, as he
ungraciously assisted in extricating him. *' Here it is
comin' night, an' this load stuck here in the middle of
the road all on account of that old brute.'*
"It's the fault o' yer feyther, it is; for if he'd be
doin' the right thing by old Dobbin he'd give 'im the
run o' the pasture for the rist of his days widout a bit
of the work to do. It's goin' on twinty years since he
was broke to the harness, an' that's afore you was
borned," said Mike.
" Come, old fellow, get up ;" and he assisted the old
horse to his feet.
"Hello, there, what's up?" shouted the driver of a
team that had come up behind.
" Sure, an' it's stuck in the mud we are," said Mike.
"An' it's glad we are to see ye, Mr. Tracy, if ye'll
give us a pull at the ind o' the tongue wid thim beau-
tiful horses o' yourn."
" Ah, it's Shane's team ! " said Mr. Tracy, "and old
Dobbin has been down. Shane never will learn when
a horse is used up. He's had twenty years good ser-
vice out of that horse and isn't satisfied yet. That's a
good load for four horses over such roads as these."
"That's thrue," said Mike, '•''hut Shane niver slnds
four horses to do the ivork he can get out of two.'*
j\Ir. Tracy's team was soon hitched to the end of the
tongue, and the four horses easily pulled the wagon out
of the mud.
"The old horse is winded," said Mr. Tracy, " and
can never pull that load home. It's a shame to treat
6 THE STBIKE AT SHANE'S,
:i faithful old horse in that manner. You liad better
pull out to the side of the road, and come back in the
morning with a better team.'*
Mr. Tracy's advice was taken, as it was evident that
old Dobbin was about used up.
About twenty-five years pre^ious to this time John
Shane had moved to Indiana, and had bought a small
farm, on which he built a saw mill; and by running
the mill in winter and farming in summer he had added
to his possessions- until he was now the owner of two
hundred acres of fine farm land. He had been a hard-
working man, and was now considered a well-equipped
and prosperous farmer. He was a hard man to deal
with, and always aimed to make a dollar where other
people made a dime.
It was a favorite maxim of his that nothing should
stay on the farm that did not more than pay expenses.
There was not a beast or fowl on the farm but what
his careful eye was on it, and everything must bring in
money or its fate was sealed.
Avarice held full sway over his mind, and there was
no room in his nature for kindness. Everything on
the place felt the effects of his ill-temper — even his
family did not always escape. His son Tom had, to
a great degree, absorbed his father's sentiments, al-
though a good boy at heart. A boy's character is
often ruined by his early training, and Tom was guilty
of many acts of cruelty to dumb animals which he
did not know were wrong, simply because his father
had set him that kind of example. He did not know
THE STRIKE AT SHANE'S, 7
that lie was violating any rule of humanity Dy such
aqts, because his thoughts had not been directed in that
channel.
Altogether the animals on Shane's farm had a pretty
hard time of it.' There were two redeeming characters
on the farm, however, and they were Mrs. Shane and
her daughter Edith. Invariably kind and gentle in
their ways, they were loved by everything on the farm,
and their righteous indignation would sometimes get
the better of their judgment, and they would speak
their minds about the cruelties practised by father and
son. They would usually meet with the reply that
"Women had better keep still about things that don't
consarn 'em." And John Shane said, "Nothin' made
him madder than for a woman to interfere when he was
dealin' with his animals."
Tom, ha^^ng arrived at home, and put the horses in
the stable, came into the house, just as the family
were sitting down to the supper table.
*' You are late to-night, Tom," said Shane. "Has
anything gone wrong ? "
"Yes, everything's gone wrong," answered Tom, in
a surly mood ; "and if I can't have a better team to
work T\qth I won't do any more teamin'."
"Come, sir," said his father, "none of that kind
of talk — I won't have it. What's the matter with
the team?"
" Why, enough's the matter," said Tom. "We got
stuck in the mud down by Ford's, an' old Dobbin
choked down an' would'nt pull a pound ; " and Tom
8 THE STRIKE AT SHAKE' 8,
proceeded to tell the whole affair as it occurred, not
omitting Mr. Tracy's remarks.
"I think Tracy had better mind his own business
and leave mine alone," said Shane, a little piqued.
*' Well, if he had, your wagon would be standing
down there in a mud hole yet," said Tom.
*'That ain't what I mean," said Shane. "That's
no more than I'd do for a neighbor ; but I know a
good horse as well as Tracy does ; an' my horses don't
take no back seat for his neither."
*'He don't drive any wind-broken nor worn-out
horses," retorted Tom.
" No more would 1 if it wasn't for your mother, who
makes me keep old Dobbin."
"Well, John," said Mrs. Shane, mildly, " yo?« don't
need to tcork old Dobbin if you do keep him. I am
sure, as Mr. Tracy says, he has earned a rest for the
balance of his life.'*
"You know my principles, Mary, that nothin' shall
stay on this farm that don't pay expenses."
'•^ I brought Dobbin here ivhen I married yon, John,
and here he is going to stay as Jong as he lives."
Something in the tone of her voice touched a chord
in John Shane's heart that caused his memory to turn
back to the time when he married Mary. He was
kind-hearted and happy then — but oh, those times
were different. A man could'nt afford to be generous
now or the world would get the best of him. But
why?
*'An' I say, father," said Tom, breaking in, "if
THE STIiIKE AT SUANE\S. 0
mother insists on keeping Dobbin, let's turn him out to
pasture. It won't cost much to keep him, an' 1 won't
drive a broken-down horse for people to make remarks
about."
'' Especially Cora Tracy's father," said Edith.
"No, not 'especially' anybody," said Tom, bri-
dling up, but blushing at the same time.
"Well, we'll see about it," said Shane. " I don't
want to hear any more about it to-night."
Thus he put the matter off, hoping that the event
would be forgotten by morning, and that nothing more
would be said about it.
CHAPTER II.
H¥j events just told took place in the early
spring, just at the time when the spring
work was commencing on the farm. The
trees were beginning to put forth their
leaves, and the meadows and fields were green with the
growing grass. The violets along the fence rows were
turning up their little faces to the warm sun, and every
"bird familiar to the climate had made its appearance.
Their joyous songs rang through the woods as they
flitted hither and thither, building their nests, or tiu*n-
ing over the leaves looking for bugs and worms.
There was no ill-temper displayed by these dwellers of
the forest as they went about their work, seeking a
living, or building their nests for the summer. Why
should not the human family go about their work just
as joyously as the birds of the forest?
" Whistle and hoe, sing as you go,
Shorten the row by the songs you know.'*
No such an idea as this had ever entered John
Shane's head, for with him everything was bustle and
hurry.
The day broke bright and clear on the morning after
Pobbin's misfortune, and the Shane household was up
THE STRIKE AT SHANE'S. 11
with the sun to begin their daily duties. The conver-
sation of the previous evening had been forgotten by
Shane — or at least thrust into the background by more
important matters ; and as he hurried to the barn to
look after the feeding, his only thought was how to get
the most work done that day. He walked down the
row of stalls, throwing corn into the feed boxes, until
he came to Dobbin's stall, w^hen he stopped as though
thunderstruck. Old Dobbin was standing with his
head down, wheezing like a man with the asthma.
"Hello; here's a fine go, right in the busy season.
Just my everlastin' bad luck!" he exclaimed, for the
appearance of Dobbin indicated a severe case of lung
fever.
Shane never gave any thought to the comfort of his
animals, and Tom followed in the footsteps of his
father. He had brought Dobbin home wet with sweat,
and tied him in his stall without rubbing him down,
and such a thing as a blanket was never heard of in
Shane's stables. Tom's ill temper had made him even
forget to put in the usual bedding of clean straw, and
the result was, as any good horseman might expect,
that Dobbin had taken a severe cold.
" How now, Tom," cried Shane, as Tom entered the
barn, "here's a nice mess you've made of things."
Tom stood with his hands in his pockets, staring at
Dobbin ; and while his conscience compelled him to
feel a little sympathy for the old horse's sufferings, yet
he had the secret satisfaction of knowing that he would
not have to drive him any m^ore for a few days, aiiv-
how.
12 THE STItIKE AT SHAXE'S,
"You go down to town jin' bring up Hodges, an'
see what lie can do for him," said Shane.
Had he known what would be the result of this
action, he would rather have said, "You take him
down to the woods an' put a bullet in his brain." But
he thought Hodges could doctor the old horse up so
that he would be able to work again.
Shane got Dobbin out of the stable in the meantime,
although he was so stiff he could scarcely walk.
Hodges, the veterinary surgeon, soon came and said
he thought he could cure him, but that he didn't
believe he would ever be worth much, or able to do
much hard work again.
"AYell, I'll spend no money on him," said Shane.
"Here's your fee for this time, and you needn't come
any more."
" iV/r. Hodges j" said a voice behind them, ''you can
give old Dobbin cdl the attention he needs, and I icill
see that you are paid.'' It was Mrs. Shane, who had
come up just in time to hear Shane's last remark.
Shane growled out something about ' ' squandering-
money," and turning on his heel, went to the barn.
Hodges left medicine with Mrs. Shane, and she and
Edith got the old horse into the yard and wrapped him
up in an old quilt. They bathed his limbs with the
ointment left by Hodges, and Mrs. Shane held his
mouth open while Edith poured in the medicine for him
to swallow.
Dobbin's condition soon became known throughout
the barnyard, and also the cause of it. There is no
THE STUIKE AT SHANE'S. 13
question but animals do have some means of communi-
cating with each otlier. How it is done we do not
know. All migratonj birds and foivls hare a piihUc
meeting before starting on their Joirrrif^//.^ southward^
and go in Jlocks. It is interesting to watch a public
gathering of crows, and see the dignified manner in
which they will carry on the meeting until there arises
a difference of opinion on some point, and then there
commences such a chattering and cawing, and rising to
points of order, or for personal explanation, as was
never heard outside of a session of congress. But in
the end they always come to some kind of a decision —
ichich congress does not always do.
It is said that the eagles of southern Indiana have
a place of meeting where they hold an annual gathering,
and make an apportionment of the country, assigning
to each pair a certain territory over which they may
hunt ; and this meeting of eagles has never been known
to be guilty of making a ger^-ymander , thereby setting
a good example to some of our legislatures. It is not
necessary for me to enumerate the many acts of
sagacity of our domestic animals to show that they
have some means of communicating ideas from one to
the other.
Old Dobbin was a favorite with everything on the
farm, and the news of his misfortune spread in a short
time, and was a matter of general discussion by all the
animals. Even the chickens missed him, for he never
objected to their eating a few grains of corn out of his
box ; but if they got in his way he would push them
gently aside with his nose.
14 THE STRIKE AT SHANE'S.
Even John Shane missed him, but it was the result
of a selfish interest ; for here was his team broken up,
and not a horse on the place to take his place. There
was no use of talking about breaking one of the colts ;
and Bay Dick had such a temx)er that he couldn't be
worked with any horse hut Dobbin. If he should
hitch one of the colts up with Dick, everything would
l)e kicked to splinters in fiye minutes.
He w^ent among his neighbors and tried to hire or
buy a horse, but it was the busy season, and none of
them cared to part with any of their horses. In this
way he spent the w4iole day and succeeded in doing
nothing but get into a very bad temper.
He w^ent down to the field w^here Mike was plowing
with the only team on the farm, and told him not to
spare the horses, but " put 'em through from daylight
till dark."
''■Not if I know mesilf," said Mike to himself, as
Shane started away. "It's not such a fool I am to
overtax me ow^n stringth for the sake of getting a
little more work out of the horses."
Shane searched far and wide for a horse, but could
find none at that season of the year. His temper grew
worse all the time. Tom didn't escape his wrath either ;
but Tom had a way of getting even by taking out his
spite on the cattle and horses, and even the dog and
cat did not entirely escape his kicks and blows.
And his leisure time was spent going about the fields
shooting birds, as he said "for practise."
Things w^ent on this way for a week or ten days,
THE STRIKE AT SHANE'S. 15
when Shane conchided to try breaking one of the colts.
His idea of breaking a colt ivas by force, and the
thought never entered his head that he could subdue it
by gentleness. The strong-limbed, beautiful colt was
enticed into the stable, and the door securely fastened.
A rope with a slip-noose was then thrown over its
head, and as it plunged away the rope tightened
around its neck until it was choked almost into insen-
sibility. A strong bridle was then placed on it and
the noose was loosened. After being pulled around and
whipped for about an hour the colt became too much
exhausted to make further resistance, and Shane held
it by the bit w^hile Tom fitted on the collar and harness.
Bay Dick was then brought out and hitched to the
wagon, and the colt was placed alongside of him.
Dick resented the idea of being hitched with a colt, and
evinced some restlessness. ^ ' Gettin' frisky, are you ? "
said Shane, and he gave Dick a cut with the whip
which raised a long welt on his side.
Dick laid back his ears, as much as to say, '' Til get
even with you for that."
" All ready ; let go ! " shouted Shane, and Tom re-
leased the colt's head, which he had been holding by
the bit. It began to rear and plunge about in its
efforts to get loose. Dick caught the excitement of
the moment, and began plunging and kicking with all
his might. The team then started to run, dragging
Shane a short distance, when he let go, — and they
sped down the lane like a hurricane. The wagon was
torn to pieces, and the two horses, trying to jump a
16 THE 8TBIKE AT SHANE'S,
fence, went clown together, and were tangled up in the
harness. Shane and Tom hastened to the place and
extricated them. Dick was all right, hut the coJf's
leg icas broken.
" Go to the house and get the rifle," said Shane.
Tom went; and when he came back Shane put a
bullet in the colt's head, saying, " It's no use to fool
with a colt with a broken leg."
Such are the sentiments of many whose hearts are
closed against the silent appeals of our dumb animals.
How often have we seen the look of pain in a horse's
eye after receiving cruel blows for failing to do what
was impossible — a look which almost seemed to say,
*' God forgive them, for they kriow not what they do!"
CHAPTER III.
NDER the kind treatment of Mrs. Shane
Dobbin had improved rapidly, and was able
to be turned out in the pasture ; but he was
still stiff in the joints and short in his wind.
Shane had succeeded in getting a man from the village
to come with his team and work a few days, but he
was far behind his neighbors in getting his corn planted.
This soured his temper more than anything else, for he
was always ahead of his neighbors in his work, and he
blamed it all to " his everlastin' bad luck.'*
From this time on he hardly gave his horses time to
eat and sleep, and they were worked down almost to
skin and bone. Dick's temper had not improved any,
and he bore the marks of the whip frequently; for
Shane said the only way to control a horse was to make
him fear you.
About this time it became known about the farm
that Dobbin had called a meeting of all the animals on
the farm to take some measures for the amelioration of
their condition. This meeting was to be held on the
next Sunday, as that was the only day when the horses
could get off.
Now, the animals did not know exactly what was to
l)e done at the meeting ; but they had great confidence
18 THE STBIKE AT SHANE'S.
in Dobbin, and attended the meeting in full force. It
was held under the old oak tree down in the pasture
beside the brook. The gathering was rather a surprise
to Dobbin, for he had not expected so many. He had
given notice that all the useful animals and fowls of
the farm should be present, and as the result all the
horses, cattle, sheep and swine were there, and all the
chickens, turkeys, ducks and geese had sent representa-
tives. Towser, the dog, and puss, the cat, were there
in person. All the birds of the forest had sent repre-
sentatives, and there were also representatives from
the snakes and toads.
It was with some apprehension that Dobbin took
charge of this great gathering, as it was the first time
he had ever attempted to preside over a public meeting,
and he would have found himself alflicted with a trem-
bling of the knees if his knees had not been too stiff
to tremble. More than that, he was doubtful if all the
representatives present were entitled to seats in the
convention ; but he concluded to take the matter in his
own hands without appointing a committee on creden-
tials—probably owing to the fact that he never heard of
such a committee. He concluded to take the most
difficult problem under consideration first, and called
on the snakes and toads to state their claims to sit in
the convention.
''We are not animals," said one of the toads,
" neither are we fowls ; but we do claim to be useful.
We destroy many noxious insects that would injure the
crops grown on the farm. In fact, we live entirely on
THE STRIKE AT SHANE'S, 10
insects — such as flies, roaches, mosquitoes, worms, aucl
bugs, that would destroy agricultural crops. And we
have been treated " —
" Never mind how you have been treated," said Dob-
])iu, "we will hear that further on, I believe your
statements to be true, and will allow 3^ou to remain in
the convention."
"And we," said one of the snakes, "live on insects
the same as the toad, and assist in protecting the crops
from these pests."
"Yes," said the toad, "you sometimes make a meal
on one of my species."
"I admit that such things have been done, but 1
have never been guilty of such a crime," said the
snake.
" Is not your bite poisonous, and are you not a dan-
gerous fellow to have about?" inquired Dobbin.
"An entirely mistaken idea," said the snake ; '■^ there
is but one poisonous snake in the State, and that is the
rattle-snake. We do not associate with them at all.
Although our teeth are sharp, we have no poison fangs,
and our bite is no more dangerous than the prick of a
needle. For the proof of this I refer you to any
scientific investigator of the age."
"Well, we will accept your statements as true, and
allow you to remain in the convention," said Dobbin.
"Bravo ! " shouted some one in the rear, and Dobbin
looked around and saw a long-eared mule.
' ' Hello ! by what right are you here ? " inquired
Dobbin.
20 TltE STlilKE AT SJIAXE'S.
''By the right of my abiHty to get here," said the
inule. " I am at present a free and independent char-
acter in this community, and seeing you assembled
here I thought I would come over and see what the
caucus was about."
"May I ask where you belong?" inquired Dobbin.
"I was formerly emplo^^ed by a street car company
of Indianapolis. I received too many kicks and blows
and too much hard work for the amount of food I got,
so I escaped from the stables and came out in the
country for a vacation," said the mule.
" Well," said Dobbin, "if you stay here j^ou will not
be likely to find your condition any better."
"Nevermind about me," said the mule. "It's just
as easy to jump out of the field as it was to jump in ;
and if farmer Shane tries to capture me, he'll find I'm
something of a kicker." ,
"That maybe," said Dobbin, "but you will find
that farmer Shane is something of a kicker too, as all
the animals on the farm can testify."
' ' We will now proceed with the business of the meet-
ino; ," said Dobbin, "and will call on all the assembled
company to state their grievances and make suggestions
for the remedy."
The cow was called upon.
' ' My troubles are not as serious as those of some
others on the farm ; but I don't think I have been
treated fairly," said the cow. " I give all the milk for
the family, and don't begrudge them any of it, yet
when they took my calf from me I couldn't help but
THE STRIKE AT SHANE'S, 21
worry about it, and once I jumped the fence to get to
it. Then Tom came with a ckib and beat me, and set
Towser on me. I don't think that Towser is a bit bet-
ter than Tom."
" Mr. Chairman, I want to. say a word here," said
Towser, coming forward. "I admit that I have
chased all the cattle, horses and hogs on the farm ; but
I have to do what my master commands me to do, for
if I don't I will get kicks and blows. I haven't
inflicted any serious injury on any of you, for my bark
has alwa^^s been worse than my bite."
"AYe must not always judge each other by our
actions," said Dobbin, " for we are sometimes com-
pelled to do things that we would not do if left to our
own free wills."
"More than that," continued the cow, "that good-
for-nothing Tom beats me and kicks me when he comes
to milk me. He puts my neck in a stall where I can't
turn my head around, and if I switch my tail to keep
the flies off he gets mad and beats me. Why, last night
he tied my tail to my leg so that I could not switch the
flies, and a fly got on my back and bit me terribly. I
couldn't switch it off with my tail, nor scare it off with
my head. I stood it as long as I could, and then I
kicked up with both of my feet. I only aimed to scare
the fly away, but some way I kicked Tom over and
spilled the bucket of milk all over him, and I'm carry-
ing the bruises on me where he beat me for it. I don't
give down my milk very well sometimes, but what en-
couragement is there for a cow that is tx'eated in that
manner ? '*
22 THE ST HIKE AT SHANE'S.
When the cow had finished, Bay Dick was called on.
"I don't intend to stand this treatment any longer,"
said Dick. "A horse don't get anything but blows on
this farm, whether he does right or wrong. I know I've
got a fiery temper, and always aim to take my own
part. I'm sorry I ran away the other day and broke
the colt's leg, but that's done and can't be helped. But
one thing is certain, I don't intend to submit to this
treatment any longer."
The other horses all said "bravo," and "that's
right."
' ' I'd be willing to do my share of the work if I was
treated right," he continued ; " but I get nothing but
kicks and cuffs, and never a kind word. And there's
that Tom has been driving me every Sunday night
down to Tracy's place. He ties me to a strong post
out in the road, imth my head 2mlled away hack with
the check-rein^ so that I can't get my head down to
rest it. Then he goes into the house and stays until
ten or eleven o'clock^ ivhile I stand there and shiver
ivith the cold. If he would just put a blanket over me
I wouldn't suffer so much ; but it's little he ever t»hinks
of our comfort. I tried to break loose and come home,
but I couldn't. You all know what old Dobbin has,
suffered at their hands, and that's what we'll all come
to in the end."
This speech was indorsed by them all.
' ' I don't know that I have any grievance to speak
of," said a pig. "I have a pretty good time. It's
true I sometimes get through a hole in the fence, and
then Towser —
THE STBIKE AT SHANE'S. 23
''There it goes again," said Towser. "Always
blaming me for something I can't help."
"As I said," continued the pig, "I haven't much
to complain of, but if I can do anything to help the
rest of you I will do it."
' ' There's a hole in the garden fence w'here my chick-
ens would get in last summer, and then I would have to
go in and watch them," said a hen. Then some of the
other hens would get in, and Tom would come and
throw stones at us. He killed tw^o of my chickens and
broke my wing. Sometimes he w^ould set Towser on
us — "
"There now, I won't stand it any longer," said
Towser, bristling up.
"Order, order!" shouted Dobbin; and Towser lay
down again.
"I'm kicked and cu.ffed day in and day out," mewed
Puss. "I try to catch all the rats and mice I can, but
it don't do any good."
"Am I allowed to speak?" asked a quail which had
hopped up on the fence.
"What reason can you give for appearing in this
meeting," asked Dobbin.
"For the reason that I live on insects, and bugs,
and worms, which would be destructive to the farmer's
crops. I speak for all classes of birds. It is true that
w^e eat a little fniit and grain, but that is nothing in
comparison to the great benefits the farmer receives
from us. We have added greatly to the prosperity of
the farm, yet our nests are destroyed, our^oung killed,
24 THE STllIKE AT SHANE'S.
and the merciless guns of both Shane and his sou are
popping away at us all the time."
"That being the ease, all birds that destroy trouble-
some insects are admitted to the convention," said
Dobbin.
There being no more speakers, Dobbin said the con-
vention would take a recess for five minutes, and go
down to the brook and get a drink, after which they
would discuss the matter as to the best and most con-
venient remedy for the evils existing on the farm.
<^*^
CHAPTER IV.
HE meeting hriving re-assembled, Dobbin
called for suggestions as to the proper
remedy for their misfortunes, and the
proper course to pursue. All were silent
but Bay Dick^ who was in favor of kicking everything
to pieces on the farm, and to show how it w^as to be
done he wheeled around and kicked the top rail off the
fence.
"If you wdll allow me to make a suggestion," said
the mule, "perhaps I could give you some ideas on this
subject."
" We will hear what you have to say," said Dobbin.
"I have been in the service of the street car com-
pany for several years," said the mule, "and I know
when the street car drivers got dissatisfied with their
wages they went on a strike. That is, they quit work
until their difficulties were fixed np in some way, and
they got what they wanted. I know we mules had an
easy time of it while the strike lasted. Now, why
couldn't you all go out on a strike and refuse to work
until you get better treatment ? "
"That would probably result in more blows and
worse treatment instead of better," said Dobbin.
20 THE STRIKE AT SIMILE'S,
*'No," said the mule, *'if farmer Shaae had to do
without you for a while he would perhaps begin to
appreciate your services, and would come to his senses
and treat you better.'*
After some further discussion this plan grew in
favor and was adopted, and the mule which had been
in the street car strike gave them full instructions how
to proceed.
"I'll not do another day's work,' said Dick, "and
I'll kick everything to pieces they hitch me to."
"Hold on there," said the mule, "no violence to
persons or property. That was the rule in the street
car strike. Just quit work and let farmer Shane get
along the best he can."
"That's right," said Dobbin, "no \dolence in this
strike."
"Well, I'll do the best I can to keep cool," said
Dick, "but they mustn't push me too far."
"Now, we will hear from each member as to the
course they intend to pursue," said Dobbin.
"As for my part," said Dick, who was highly
delighted with the plan, "I shall pretend to be very
lame, and stiff in my shoulders."
"Considering your high temper," said the mule,
"perhaps it would be better for you to locate your
lameness in your hind legs."
"Not much," said Dick, "I may have occasion to
use my heels before I get through this if they use me
too severely."
" I shall stay in the farthest corner of the pasture,
THE 8TBIKE AT SHANE'S, 2T
and make Tom come after me every night instead of
going up to the barn to be milked, as I have always
done," said the cow, "and I shall give just as little
milk as possible."
The other horses all agreed to feign some kind of
sickness to avoid work.
"I will not do anything that I can get out of," said
Towser, "if I have to chase any of you, you needn't
get scared, for I'll not hurt you. There is one thing
that I have always done, and that is, kill the moles in
the yard and garden. They burrow under the ground,
where puss can't get at them, and I have always made
it a point to watch for them and kill them. I will not
kill another mole if they destroy all the garden."
"I will not kill another rat or mouse on the farm, if
they eat up all the grain," said Puss.
"Thank you for that," said a big rat, that came up
out of a fence corner, where he had been hiding and
listening.
^ ' I want you to understand that it is not out of any
consideration or respect I have for you that I made
that statement," said Puss, and she walked over
towards the rat, who immediately dropped back into
his hole.
"Quite right and proper," said Dobbin ; "we want
no such characters in this convention."
The snake and toad said they would move over to
the next farm.
* ' I shall move off the farm just as soon as my mate
gets well of a wound received the other day from a
28 THE STBIKE AT SHANE' 8,
shot from Shane's gun," said the quail, '* and I prom-
ise you that no quail shall come on this farm this
summer."
" I have a grievance against farmer Shane myself,"
said a hawk, that had perched unseen on the top of the
oak, '' and I will agree to kill all the chickens on the
farm."
' ' Put him out ! put him out ! " screamed the hen ;
and the other birds quickly sought cover.
"I'll fix him," said the kingbird, and he made a
quick dash at the hawk, and struck him in the back
with his sharp beak.
"I'll help," said the crow; and between them they
soon drove the hawk away.
"I spend almost the whole of my time catching
worms and bugs," chirped the robin. "It is true,
that is the way I make my living, but those worms
would destroy many dollars' worth of crops. Last
summer almost my whole family was killed by Shane
because we took a few cherries, and I promise you
there shall not a robin remain on the farm nor catch a
worm on it this summer.'*
So said all the birds ; and it was then and there
arranged that there should be a general emigration of
birds from the Shane farm.
" Am I in this?" asked the crow, who had returned
from driving the hawk away, which he had chased
clear over to the adjoining farm.
"Well, that's questionable," said Dobbin. But owing
to the fact that the crow had chased away the hawk,
1
THE STB IKE AT SHANE'S. 29
Dobbin was disposed to look more kindly on him than
he otherwise would.
"Ah! you black rogue," said the hen, "you stole
an egg out of my nest yesterday. I saw you fly away
with it."
" I admit it," said the crow; " but I drove away a
lat that was just about to steal it, and I thought I
might take the egg as a reward for driving the rat
away. Besides, I drive away hawks which would steal
chickens, and I kill a great many grub worms, and cut-
worms, and ground mice," continued the crow, " and
if I'm a part of this strike I'll not kill any more such
pests, and more than that, I'll move off the farm and
let the hawks kill all Shane's chickens."
"Oh! come now," said the hen, "let's compro-
mise ; you stay here and keep the hawks away, and
I'll give you an egg now and then."
" All right," said the crow ; " I'll agree to anything
to get into good society."
"I have a few words to say," said the blackbird;
" I'm black hke the crow, but I don't steal eggs."
" Yes ; but I saw you pulling up corn down in the
field yesterday, which is just as bad," said Dobbin.
" Quite mistaken, I assure you," said the blackbird.
Sometimes I pull up a sprout of corn, but it is to get
at the grub worm which is at the root. If I did not
pull it up the grub would destroy it anyhow, so in the
end no harm is done by me, but much good, for I
destroy a worm that would have destroyed many stalks
of corn before the season is over. We cannot destroy
30 THE STRIKE AT SHANE'S,
all the grubworms and cutworms that are in the corn-
fields, for they are imder ground and we cannot get at
them. We follow the plow in the spring and get all
the worms that it turns up. We follow in the summer
and get all the worms that the cultivator brings to the
surface. Thousands of crickets and grasshoppers are
destroyed by us which would injure the wheat and grass
crops. Hundreds of my species have been killed by
Shane, and I will promise you that not a worm nor an
insect shall be killed by a blackbird on the farm this
summer. More than that, all the blackbirds in this
section will join me, and each one will carry a few
grubworms and cutworms and drop them on Shane's
fields."
Dobbin thought that carrying worms on the farm for
the purpose of destroying the crops was contrary to
the arrangement that no violence should be done to the
person or property of Shane ; but the birds all insisted
that it was no more than right that they should have
this privilege. They thought that was the best way to
prove to Shane the great amount of damage done by
these pests.
Everything being now arranged, the convention
adjourned to meet again on the following Sunday at
the same place, and report what had been done.
^''Wonder tchat all them beasts are gathered around-
that tree forV said Shane, as he and Tom sauntered
across the field, laying their plans for the next day's
work. '' Must be somethin' wrong."
*' They're just standin' in the shade of that tree, I
THE STUTKE AT SHAKE'S. 31
guess," answered Tom; "but it does se^m kind of
strange, for there's Towser among 'em, an' he don't
often go very far away from the house."
" Yes, an' there's some other critter there, too, that
don't belong to this farm," said Shane.
" It's a mule," said Tom. " I wonder where in the
nation he cam^ from ? "
Shane and Tom having come close enough for the
animals to see them, the mule started across the field
to the point whei-e he had jumped the fence. Towser,
seeing the turn affairs had taken, started after the mule,
as though chasing it, and made a bee-line for home as
soon as he was out of sight of Shane. The other
animals scattered in various directions, and Shane and
Tom proceeded in the direction the mule had taken to
see where it had gotten in.
CHAPTER V.
ONDAY morning came bright and fair, and
Shane was up at dawn. He fed the horses,
and seeing the sorrel horse lying down, he
thoiighu the horse was still sleeping, and
threw a corncob at him.
"Come, wake up there, lazy bones," he shouted,
but the only response was a groan.
" What in the nation is the matter now? " he asked
himself, as he went around in the stable and gave the
horse a poke with the fork handle.
" Get up here," he shouted, and gave the horse
another poke with the fork handle. The sorrel got up
on his feet, but stood with his head down.
"He'd better not try that with me," said Dick, to
himself, in an undertone, as he munched his corn.
"Looks like a sick horse, sure," said Shane. "I
never knew that horse to refuse to eat before. Fire
and thunder ! " he exclaimed, as he looked in the gray
mare's stall, and saw that she had not touched her corn.
" Somebody must have poisoned these horses."
He led the sorrel horse and gray mare out in the
l)arn-yard, where they rolled around and made a great
show of having the colic.
"Tom, come here!" shouted Shane, as Tom came
THE 8TBIKE AT SHANE'S, 33
sauntering down the path with his milk pail. " You
put the saddle on Dick, an' go down an' get Hodges
as quick as you can." .
Tom did as he was commanded ; but when he at-
tempted to bring Dick out of the stable he pretended
to be so stiff that he could not get out. Shane was
called up and made acquainted with the state of affairs.
"What in the nation do you suppose is the matter
with 'em?" he asked, still more astounded. " 'Tain't
no founder, for they haven't been overfed."
''I've an idea that it's some of that mule's work,"
said Tom. "Like as not he's been kicked."
" I reckon one mule wouldn't kick all the horses on
the place," said Shane, as they examined him for hoof
marks and found none.
"Well, you'll just have to walk down to town an' get
Hodges, an' be quick about it."
"It does beat all," said Shane, as he returned to the
house. " There's no misfortune flyin' that don't 'light
on this farm."
" What is the matter now?" asked Mrs. Shane.
' ' Why, every horse on the farm is disabled in one
way or another," said Shane.
' ' Well, I thought you were working those horses too
hard," said Mrs. Shane. "You should remember,
John, that horses are not machines that can go on for-
ever. You should judge their feelings something by
your own. You raised Mike's wages for working over
time, hut tvhat have you given these horses for their
overwork'^ Have you given them any better care or
better food?"
34 THE STRIKE AT SHANE'S.
*'0h, you have foolish uotious about such things,
an' yon and me will never agree on them pints," said
Shane.
"It is true, nevertheless, that if you would give
your horses better care, and lighter work, you would
be the gainer in the end," said Mrs. Shane.
"How can I help it," said Shane ; " here's only three
horses left on the farm, an' I've got to get all the work
I can out of 'em."
"It was overwork that put Dobbin in the shape he is
now in," said Mrs. Shane. "If he had been properly
cared for, and not been given work he couldn't do, he
would have worked all summer."
"Well, what's done can't be undone ; an' I've got to
get them horses on their feet again. Them foolish
notions of yours won't make any money on the farm ;
so there's no use discussin' 'em."
"Time will show," was Mi-s. Shane's parting shot.
Hodges soon arrived, and worked on the horses all
day, and at night they did not seem any better than
when he began. He said they were the most peculiar
and stubborn cases he had ever seen. Dick had sev-
eral quiet laughs at the expense of the other horses
because they had to take nasty medicine, while his
treatment was external. Hodges said he couldn't see
what was the matter with the horses, unless their con-
stitutions were entirely broken down by overwork. He
left in the evening with instructions that if the horses
were not better by morning to let him know.
"Did you see that big flock of blackbirds down in
THE STRIKE AT SHAKE'S. 35
the lower field," inquired Shane of Tom at the supper
table that evening.
"Yes," said Tom ; "there must have been hundreds
of 'em."
' ' You must get out early with the shot-gun in the
mornin,' or there won't be a grain of corn left in the
ground."
" Mr. Tracy says that blackbirds do more good than
harm," said Edith. "He says that all birds destroy
bugs and worms."
' ' Tracy has got lots of fool notions in his head that
there ain't any money in," said Shane.
"Well, I think it's cruel to shoot birds that don't
know they are doing any harm. I'm sure you wouldn't
want to be shot for doing something that you didn't know
was wrong," replied Edith.
The further discussion of the matter was postponed
by Shane, who said he had more serious things to think
about.
"Mornin' to ye, Tom," said Mike, as he met Tom
in the lane, gun in hand, bent on destroying blackbirds.
' ' What be ye goin' to shoot this mornin' ? "
"Blackbirds," replied Tom.
"Begorra, there's plinty of 'em," said Mike.
" It looks like I would get a chance to use my gun,"
said Tom.
" Thim's quare birds, now, Tom. I was watchin'
'em yisterday an' begorra, do ye know, I think they're
plantin' corn instid o' takin' it up ; for I see 'em a
droppin' somethin' white all over the field, and there be
36 THE STBIKE AT SHANE'S.
hundreds of 'em at it. But how is thim horses this
mornin'?"
"No better ; an' the old man is as mad as a hornet,"
said Tom, as he passed on down the lane in search of
blackbirds. There was abundance of them, and Tom
thought he would have fine sport killing them, but they
were on the alert, and not a bird did he succeed in kill-
ing, although he tramped around the fields until he was
tired out.
"Tom, you surely didn't milk that cow dry," said
Mrs. Shane ; "you didn't get half as much milk as you
usually do."
"She wouldn't give down her milk," said Tom.
"The old brute needed a good beating — and she got it,
too."
"You must not ill-treat that cow," said Mrs. Shane.
* * Nothing will ruin a good cow as soon as cruel treat-
ment. If you won't treat the cow right I will have to
do the milking myself."
"It ain't my fault that she is so mean," said Tom,
as he walked out in the yard, and discovering a bird's
nest in the cedar tree, picked up a long pole and began
to punch at it, when Edith came out and saw him.
"Tom Shane, what are you doing ? " she cried ; " you
leave that bird's nest alone."
"I won't," he said. "It's a nasty old robin's nest,
and I don't want 'em here."
"They don't hurt anything, and do lots of good,
and sing so nice."
"They steal cherries, and don't do any good," said
Tom ; "an' who cares for their singin' ? "
THE STB IKE AT SHANE'S. 37
"I do, and Cora Tracy does, and so does mamma.
Cora and I watched them building that nest day before
yesterday. They didn't come back to-day ; and I
believe you have done something to them. I'll tell
Cora if you tear it down," she said, as Tom made
another vigorous punch at the nest.
"Don't care if you do," said Tom, as he gave an-
other punch at the tree with his pole ; but- he was care-
ful, however, not to strike the nest, and laid down his
pole and walked away. Tom was just at the age when
the influence of the gentler sex was most powerful
over him, and he hesitated to do anything that might
bring him into disfavor with Cora Tracy.
"Oh ! mamma, do come here and see," cried Edith,
the next day, as she was walking around in the yard.
"The moles have eaten up all the tulips."
Mrs. Shane came out to see the wreck of her beauti-
ful tulip bed.
" Here, Towser ! come and hunt the moles," called
Mrs. Shane to Towser, who lay on the porch. He came
down slowly and walked up to Mrs. Shane, and licked
her hand. He then started down the path, barking as
though he saw some one, •
"Here, Towser! come back now, and hunt the
moles." Towser came back, and Mrs. Shane pointed
to the burrow and told him to hunt, but he hung his
head and walked away.
"Why, what ails the dog?" said Mrs. Shane, "I
never saw him act so."
"Towser, you naughty dog," cried Edith, "why
38 THE STBIKE AT SHANE'S.
don't you mind ? " — but Towser was gone. He remem-
bered his promise, and kept it, but he felt so mean that
he went around in the back yard and growled at Tom,
until he received a kick, and then he felt better.
The next day the pigs were in the garden, and Edith
called Towser to run them out. He lay still with hW\
nose between his paws, and apparently paid no atten-
tion to her.
"You naughty, lazy dog. You shall not have any
supper for that," cried Edith, as she went after the
pigs.
CHAPTER VI.
N the following Sunday the beasts and birds
of the Shane farm met at the appointed
place under the oak tree. Some of them
looked rather the worse for the past week's
experience ; but all had a determined air, and looked
willing to add a little more to the usual amount of suf-
fering, if it would assist them in bettering their condi-
tion.
Dobbin called the meeting to order and stated that
they would now hear from each one as to their experi-
ences of the past week. Owing to the fact that Mrs.
Shane had insisted that Dobbin should not be worked
any more, he was an independent character on the
farm. He had not been expected to work, and, as a
consequence, had not been ill treated.
Bay Dick pranced forward, and said he was not so
lame as he had been. "However, I am liable to be
lame in good earnest if they give me much more of the
treatment that I have received for the past week. I
tell you it is hard to keep my heels down and not kick
things to pieces. I haven't kicked any this week,
though I don't promise for the future, for I have put up
with about all the abuse I can stand without striking
D8(C£* sq
40 THE STRIKE AT SHANE'S.
''Keep cool," said Dobbin; ''let us all work to-
gether and be patient."
"Patience is a virtue I don't boast of,** said Dick ;
*'but I will do the best I can."
The sorrel said that playing sick was about as hard
as working, for he had been going hungry all the week,
a sick horse, of course, not being expected to eat.
He could get along all right as long as they would turn
him out in the pasture, where he could crop the grass
without being seen ; but when they shut him up in the
stable they could tell how much he ate.
The gray mare had the same experience, but they
both promised to hold out to the end, if it took all
summer, and they got so thin that they had to stand
twice in the same place to make a shadow.
"I have had a pretty rough time of it," said the
cow. "The only way I could get even was by not
giving milk, and the only way I could keep from giv-
ing milk was not to eat. I have had to starve myself
for the whole week, but I have the satisfaction of know-
ing that they have not had enough milk in the family ;
and that good-for-nothing Tom has not had any milk
to drink for one week. No doubt I am looking pretty
thin, but I am determined not to give any milk if I can
help it. I have received several beatings from Tom,
because he says I won't give down my milk, and I
kicked him once."
"That is quite heroic on your part," said Dobbin.
"Who is the next?"
* ' There never was a dog hac^ as hard a time as I
THE STBIKE AT SHANE'S, 41
do," said Towser. "I have tried not to do anything,
but I get so many kicks and blows that I have to pre-
tend to do something to keep them from beating me to
death. By 'them' I mean Mr. Shane and Tom, for
Mrs. Shane and Edith are as kind as they can be. I
haven't killed a mole this week, and they ate up all of
Mrs Shane's flowers. I was awfully sorry about that
for I haven't anything against Mrs. Shane. And then
when Edith told me to drive the hogs out of the garden
I wouldn't go, and she had to go and drive them out
herself. I licked her hand afterwards and tried to
make up with her, but she wouldn't, and said I was a
lazy dog. I'll make it all up to her when this strike is
over."
"I just had to lay an egg every day," said the hen,
"but I made a nest away back under the barn where
they couldn't find it, and then went up in the hay-mow
and cackled. I know they haven't found any eggs for
they are all there, except what I gave the crow, and I
think he earned them, for I haven't seen a hawk for a
week."
"The rats and mice are about to take the place, for
I haven't bothered them this week," said puss. ' ' When
I get hungry for a mouse, I go over to the next farm
to get it. Shane said I ought to be starved into catch-
ing mice. Humph ! there are mice to catch in other
places than here. I won't starve."
"I have done my part," said the crow. "The hen
has been giving me eggs to eat, and I have spent my
spare time in carrying worms and dropping them on the
42 THE STRIKt: AT SHANE'S,
fields, and I have had about a hundred of my friends
at the same work. No wonder the hen has not seen a
hawk this week, for no hawk will ever come around
where a hundred crows are."
"You have no doubt seen the result of my work,",
said the blackbird. "I have had some hundreds of |
my friends at work carrying worms and insects on toj
the farm and dropping them. There will be enough
worms on the farm within the next week to eat up all
the crops this summer."
"I don't think that is right," said Dobbin, "for;
Shane may change his mind before the season is over, \
and then we would be sorry for what we have done."
"Oh! don't worry about that," said the blackbird.
' ' I have explained the matter to them, and they have \
all agreed to assist in carrying all the worms and insects ^
off again, if events should take a favorable turn for us.
We'll make that all right."
"With that understanding, I consent that the work^
go on," said Dobbin.
" Tom has been chasing us all the week with his gun, \
but we keep out of his way. It's open war between
us from now on, and we'll see which wins,'* said the
blackbird.
The other birds said they had been engaged in simi-
lar work, and that there was not now a single bird of
any kind on the farm.
While this meeting was going on, Shane had gone
over to the Tracy farm to see if he could not get Mr.
Tracy to help him out with his work.
THE STRIKE AT SHAKE'S. 4S
"it seems like fate is agin me this year," said
Shane. "What little crops I have got in are about to
be taken by the birds. It keeps Tom all the time to
keep 'em out of the corn.'*
"You and I have different views about such things,"
said Mr. Tracy. " / consider the birds my best friends;
I wouldn't part ivith them for any money, and I don't
allow a bird shot on my farm."
"I never could see it in that light," said Shane.
' ' I know they pull up the corn and there's enough
blackbirds on my farm to take all the corn I can
plant."
"Why, there's just as many on my farm and they
follow the plow and pick up every worm and bug they
can find. I'm satisfied that the work done for me this
spring by blackbirds alone is worth fifty dollars to me,
and they are not half done yet. I have a great deal
more work for them to do for me before the season is
over. Why, the birds are one of God's best gifts to us,
and we ought to give Him thanks for sending them.
They are not only a benefit to us in money, but their
songs brighten our lives and make our homes more
pleasant."
"I never have time to listen to their singin'," said
Shane, "and as for their usefulness, I think they
injure us more than they do us good."
"Well, I hope you will see things in a different light
some time, and be able to understand what a good gift
they are to us."
"I never can see things like you do," said Shane ;
44 THE STB IKE AT SHAN^e'S,
'*an* it's no use for us to argy for we can't agree.
When luck begins to run agin a man there's no stoppin'
it. Now there's all them horses of mine cKsabled, an'
I don't know what to do."
" Now to be candid, friend Shane, don't you think you
are in a measure responsible for the condition of your
horses ? Now there's old Dobbin would have been able
to do light work all summer if he had not been over-
worked, but he is not fit for any work now."
"Yes ; an' I'd get rid of him if it wasn't for Mary.
I don't believe in keeping useless animals just out of
sympathy."
"Oh! come now; you don't think God gave man
dominion over the lower animals just that we might
tyrannize over them, and abuse them? There is no
record of any crime they ever committed against the
laws of God, or any disobedience to His will that
should lead Him to give man dominion over them as a
means of punishment ; but, on the contrary, it seems as
though He has given them to us to be useful to us,
and make our lives happier. There is a limit to our
dominion, and that limit has been exceeded by you, in
the case of old Dobbin, at least. You had long years
of service from him, and he had grown too old for the
work you put on him. The same reason would proba-
bly hold good with the other horses, for I think you
have overworked them this spring. I say it in all
kindness to you ; but I think you have got into the
habit of looking at things in the wrong light, and
are measuring things by a fslse standard."
THE STBIKE AT SHANE'S, 45
*' You may be right about the matter," said Shane ;
' ' but I don't see how a man is to get along in the
world if he don't push things."
"That depends on what you mean by pushing things,
and getting along in the world. If the getting of
money is the aim of life it might be to our interest to
^^-ring the last pound of strength from our beasts that
could be got out of them, but I believe it is a good
policy Dot only to get happiness for ourselves, hut to
make them happy too ; and I don't think I ever lost
anything by that policy."
"Well, we can't agree on these questions," said
Shane, "and what I want to know is if you will help
me out a little with my work, when you get your crop
in."
"Why, certainly, I am always willing to help a
neighbor when he is in trouble. Let me see : the boys
will have that lower field broke up by the middle of the
week, and then I will send you one team on one con-
dition, neighbor Shane."
"What is that?" asked Shane.
' ' That you will apply my principles in regard to the
lower animals to my horses. That you will treat them
as kindly as I would treat them, and be as merciful to
them as you would to me, if I went over to help you."
"I agree to that," said Shane, "an' appreciate
your kindness, I am sure."
Shane took his departure and went on to Abner
Smith's, who lived on the next farm. Abner Smith
was a bluff old fellow who always spoke hi§ mind, and
46 THE STBIKE AT SHANE'S.
was always free to criticise anything that did not suit
him, but his criticisms always had a ring of sincerity,
as being the result of honest conviction. Justice to
all things, both man and beast, was the ruling princi-
ple of his life. Shane's errand here was the same as
at Tracy's, and he related his troubles and asked for the
use of a team in getting his corn planted.
"Well, I'm always neighborly," said Smith, "an' I
think I can spare you a team by the middle of the week,
an' I'll send my boy John along to drive it for you."
"That is not necessary," said Shane; "I have
plenty of hands. What I want is horses ; Tom can
drive the team, if you will let me have it."
"I'd rather my boy John would go along with the
team," said Smith. " It shan't cost you nothin'. You
see the team is used to John, an' then they do say that
you are a ha^'d man on bosses, neighbor Shane, an'
mine ain't used to bein' ill treated."
"Well, suit yourself about that. By the w^ay, I'll
send Tom over to work in John's place, if you insist
on sending John with the team."
"That's fair," said Smith. "If you don't need the
boy, just send him over an' I'll find work for him."
Farmer Shane returned home feeling more cheerful
than he had for some days ; but he didn't feel right
about the way Tracy and Smith had talked about his
treatment of his horses and other animals.
"The idea," he soliloquized, "that I don't know as
much about how to use a horse as Abner Smith. Why.
I*ve owned two horses to his one, an' have wore out
THE STRIKE AT SHANE'S. 47
more fiorses than he ever owned. I'd get more work
out of the horses if he'd let Tom drive 'em, but then
I'll have to do the best I can. An' then there's Tracy's
horses ; I'll use them m^^self , an' may be John will get
ashamed of himself if he don't do as much.asldo
with Tracy's team ; but then I promised Tracy that I
wouldn't use his team hard, an' if I did he would nevei;
forgive me. John would just be mean enough to go
right away an' tell Tracy if I did get a full day's work
out of 'em. Well, I'll just have to do the best I can,
but I do hate to have to work with people who have
such cranky notions. It's strange they can't see that
it pays better to work a horse for all there is in him,
an' when he's wore out shoot him or give him away.
I tell you time is worth more than horse flesh."
Such were the thoughts of a man who was intent on
money getting. He forgot that the same God who
created him created the lower animals, and that the
dominion God gave him over them was a trust to be
executed mercifully.
CHAFPER VII.
HE days went by, and Tracy and Smith sent
their teams, and the work went merrily on
at the Shane farm, and it looked like the
corn would be planted in pretty good time
yet. Shane's horses were not improving in appearance
any, and he had spent the price of a horse in fees to
Hodges to treat them. He hoped to get them cured
by the time the corn was ready for the cultivator, but
the first thing was to get the corn planted.
The work went steadily on, and by the middle of the
next week the last hill was in the ground, and Shane
was astonished at the amount of work that could be
done by two teams, when they were worked according
to Tracy's and Smith's plans; for he had kept his
promise to Tracy to treat the team well. He had given
them proi)er rest during the day, proper care at night,
and had worked them a reasonable number of hours.
He remarked that " Smith an' Tracy had two might}
good teams. They just go right along an' do what
they are told to do without any fuss or trouble.'* Yet
he could not understand that it was the kind treatment
that these horses received that made them work so
cheerfully.
"There's an awful sight o' grubworms in this soil,"
4-^
TRE 8TBIKE AT SHANS'S. 49
said John Smith, as he and Shane were breaking up
the ground for corn. "If them blackbirds that's, a
hangin* around in the woods would come down an' pick
'em up it would be many a dollar in your pocket."
"I ain't got any use for blackbirds," said Shane.
"The pesky things will be around when the corn's
planted to pull it up. I'd rather take my chances agin
the worms than the birds. If I bad a gun, I'd start
them black rascals out of there."
"They'll pick up a sight of worms if you'll let 'em,"
said John. " Father don't allow us to kill birds. He
says they more than pay their way."
"Maybe they do for some people, but they don't
for me," said Shane.
The birds were confining their work to the fields, and
were not seen about the house. This was observed
soonest by Edith, who was very fond of birds.
"How strange it is, mamma, that there are no birds
this summer," said Edith.
" I have noticed it," said Mrs. Shane. "Perhaps
they have not come yet."
" Oh ! 3^es they have," said Edith, "there's just lots
of them over at Tracy's, and lots of nests. I don't
see why they don't build any nests here. It seems so
lonesome here without them. I think papa and Tom
are cruel to shoot them and drive them away, and I
told papa so."
"Don't worry your papa anymore than you can
help, Edie," said Mrs. Shane. "He has had a great
deal of trouble this spring."
50 THE 8TBIKE AT SHANE'S.
*'Well, mamma, don't you thiDk he has brought a
great deal of this trouble on himself ? "
"Perhaps so, Edie ; but your papa has ideas about
things that are different from ours. He looks at ever}^-
thing from a money point of view."
' ' I don't think that people who look at things only
from a money point of view," said Edith, "get much
happiness."
"Your papa is doing what he thinks is for the best,
and is looking ahead to save up something for you and
Tom."
"Well, I don't want him to make himself miserable
all his life to save up money for me. I would rather
he poor and he hapx^y^ and have people and animals
and hirds to love me. If papa would read the books I
borrowed from Cora Tracy he would find out that birds
are useful, and instead of trying to kill them and drive
them away, he would be glad to have them come."
' ' Your papa has so many cares that he don't have
time to read," said Mrs. Shane.
Edith sat for some time in silence, gazing out over
the fields, and up in the blue sky.
' ' It seems to me like something dreadful is going to
happen," she said. "Everything seems so gloomy
around here ; it doesn't seem like the same place."
"The bad luck your papa has had this spring makes
us all feel down-hearted. Perhaps it is all for the best,
and we can only hope that it will come out all right."
"I don't think it will come out all right," said Edith.
"I don't think papa is doing right to drive away the
THE STRIKE AT SHANE'S, 51
birds, and work the horses to death ; and Mr. Tracy
thinks the same thing, for Cora told me so, and I'm
going to have a talk with papa about it."
"It is quite useless to annoy him about it," said
Mrs. Shane. "His mind is made up, and he will not
change it."
This reply did not settle the matter with Edith, for
she was determined to talk with her father about the
matter, but she did not expect the opportunity to come
in the manner it did.
The days slipped by and the corn was coming up,
but the difficulties on the Shane farm had not improved
any. The horses were still not fit for use, and Hodges*
could not tell when they would be.
"I don't believe there's anything the matter with
that bay Dick," said Shane, "and I'm not going to
fool with him any longer. He eats as hearty as ever,
and I saw him down in the pasture trotting around as
limber as any horse. I'm goin' to hitch him up an'
make him work or break his neck. Here's the corn
comin' up an' some of the horses have got to go in the
field pretty soon."
Having come to this conclusion, he said he would
hitch Dick up to the cart and drive him to town, and
see if he couldn't limber him up under the whip.
"Do be careful," said Mrs. Shane, "you know that
horse has a bad temper."
" Oh ! I guess Dick knows me by this time, and he
knows I won't stand au}^ nonsense. If he's as lame as
he pretends to be, it won't be much trouble to handle
him."
52 THE STRIKE AT SHANE'S.
Accordingly the harness was put on Dick, and he
was hitched to the cart. He stumbled around like a
very lame horse, and made a very bad show of getting
along. No one but Shane would have undertaken to
drive him in the condition he appeared to be in.
"Poor Dick," said Edith, as Shane stopped at the
house; "I don't think papa ought to drive him when
he is so lame," and she i)atted his neck and smoothed
out his long mane. "Don't drive him hard, papa,"
she continued, "and I'm sure he'll do the best he
can."
Shane made no reply, but drove away toward town.
The drive to town and return was a slow one, for even
Shane's hard heart would not permit him to drive a
lame horse out of a walk. Shane was rather proud
of the fact that he had succeeded in driving Dick, and
said that all the horse needed was exercise, and he
would be at work in a few d?.ys. He thought, per-
haps, a little exercise would do the rest of the horses
good.
The next day Shane proceeded to hitch Dick up
again for the purpose of driving him.
" There's no use talkin'," he said to Mike, " 1 have
got to put these horses to work."
" Bether go slow," said Mike, "for if ye put thim
sick horses to work too soon ye may have dead ones."
"It is better to have dead horses than useless ones,
just standin' round eatin'. A /lead horse don't eat
anything. It would be money in my pocket if they
were all dead," and he gave Dick a sharp cut with the
TH:^ 8TBIKE AT SHAKE'S. 53
whip to start him. Dick laid back his ears and hob-
bled away ; hut his looks appeared to indicate that a
very little of the ichip ivoidd limber him up too much
for the good of Shane's hecdth. Edith being away
there was no one to give the horse a kind word to put
him in a better humor. Shane mounted the cart and
clacked to the horse to start, but Dick stood still.
He had, evidently, made up his' mind that he did not
want to work that day. Shane gave him a cut with
the whip, but Dick laid back his ears and shook his
head, as much as to say, "there is trouble coming
for somebody."
"You won't go, eh?" said Shane, and he gave the
horse blow after blow with the whip, almost cutting the
hide open. Dick made a lunge forward, but Shane
pulled with all his strength on the reins, and the hard
bit cut the horse's mouth until it bled, and threw Dick
back on his haunches. The sudden halt threw Shane
forward, and the reins were slackened. This was
Dick's opportunity, and he seized the bit in his teeth,
a trick horses learn when they are abused, and which
they practise to save themselves from punishment by
the bit. Before Shane could recover himself, Dick
bad started down the road, forgetting all about his stiff
legs. Shane pulled on the reins until his arms ached,
but it was the strength of a man against the strength
of a horse. It was the steel bit against the teeth of
the horse, now, and the teeth won. Down the road
they flew with the speed of the wind. They neared
the bend in the road, and Shane knew that the end would
54 THE STBIKE AT SHANE'S.
come there, for he never could make the turn without
upsetting the cart, but he was helpless. Straight at
the fence went Dick, paying no attention to the turn
of the road, and with a bound he went over, and the
cart was smashed to splinters. Shane lay beside the
road unconscious, and to all appearance dead.
Dick kicked himself free from the harness and sped
across the field, thankful that he had the privilege to
use his legs once more. Shane had spent his life
among horses, but had never learned until now that he
could not subdue a high-spirited horse by force.
Mrs. Shane had seen the horse start and feared the
result. An elevation in the road had cut off her view,
after the horse had passed down the road a few rods,
and she knew nothing of the result. She called Mike
and Tom from the barn and told them what had
occurred.
"Oh! that's all right, mother; I guess father can
manage him, as lame as he is," said Tom. "He won't
run very far before he will get tired."
"Begorra, I'm not so sure of that," said Mike ; "it's
a fiery temper the horse has, an' whin his blood's up
he's hard to manage."
"I would rather you would go after him and see if
anything has happened," said Mrs. Shane.
"Why, how useless that would be, mother; there
ain't a horse on the farm we could drive, an' we
couldn't catch him on foot."
" I shall not rest until I know," said Mrs. Shane.
"Don't worry about that. Father knows too much
THE STUIKE AT SHANE'S, 55
about horses to let Dick get away from him that way,"
said Tom. "Come, Mike, let's go back to work."
Shane still lay beside the road unconscious. He had
ti-ied to manage the horse by brute force, and here was
the result — the horse prancing over the field, exulting
in his freedom, and the man lying unconscious beside
the road. The horse had not expended a tithe of his
strength, and the man was as helpless as the dead.
At the time of the accident Edith was visiting Cora
Tracy, and in the afternoon Mr. Tracy had occasion
to hitch up his wagon and drive down the road on an
errand to another farm, and as he was going by the
Shane farm he told Edith she could ride with him. ' She
gladly accepted his in\itation, for it would save her a
long walk.
"I always like to ride behind your horses," said
Edith, as they drove along ; "they look so happy and
contented."
"That's the way I want them to be," said Mr.
Tracy. "They deserve to be happy just as much as
I do, or any of my family."
* ' Do you think animals know anything about happi-
ness or unhappiuess ? " said Edith ; "that is, I mean do
they know when we love them, and can they love us
in return ? "
"That is a hard question to answer," said Tracy;
"but I think their actions indicate that they appre-
ciate love and kindness as much as a human being
does ; but whether they understand such things as we
do or not, I cannot tell. I have always made it a rule
56 THE STRIKE AT SHANE'S.
to treat them as though they did. This is especially
the case with horses and dogs. I find that I can get
much better service out of them by treating them
kindly ; and then I feel better myself when I have
treated all the brute creation fairly, and have dealt
justly by them."
"I wish papa would look at things as you do, and
would take more interest in the welfare of his dumb
animals," said Edith.
' ' I should think a good little teacher like you could
teach him something about such things," said Tracy.
"He won't listen to me," said Edith. "He says I
am too young to know much about such things."
"Why, how is this?" exclaimed Tracy, as they
passed along the road in the vicinity of the wreck, and
saw Dick over in the field. "Here is a horse running
loose with a bridle on and part of the harness. Why,
it looks like" — he paused in his remark, for he recog-
nized the horse as Mr. Shane's.
"It looks like Dick," said Edith, taking up the sen-
tence and finishing it for him ; "but it can't be, for
Dick is lame and this horse is not."
" It looks like some one has been in trouble, but I
don't see any indications of it on the road. That is
one way that high-spirited horses have of retaliating
for ill-usage on the part of their masters," he con-
tinued, as they drove along the road. On nearing the
turn of the road he saw evidences of the wreck made
by Dick ; but Edith's bright eyes had seen it before he
did.
THE STBIKE AT SHAXE'S. 57
.**0h! Mr. Tracy, there has been a runaway, and
there is a man lying beside the road. Oh ! I know it
must be papa. Do please drive faster and let us see."
Mr. Tracy needed no urging on this point, for he had
already started his horses into a trot. As they neared
the place the cause of the trouble was apparent.
Edith leaped from the wagon and was at her father's
side in a moment.
" Oh ! dear, dear papa, speak to me," she sobbed, as
she lifted his head in her arms. " Oh ! Mr. Tracy, is
he dead?" she asked, between her sobs.
"He is not dead, my dear girl, but very badly
injured, I am afraid," he answered. " Can you stay
here with him until I go for assistance ? "
" No, no, don't go away ; I can help you lift him in
the wagon and we will take him home."
"Why, my dear girl, you have not strength to help
me lift him."
" Oh ! yes I have, Mr. Tracy ; I am strong. Come,
let me help."
"Well, if you insist, we will try it," he said; and
they lifted him up and succeeded in getting him into
the wagon, and drove as rapidly as possible to the
Shane farm. When they arrived Edith hastened to the
house and met her mother on the porch. Edith's
swollen eyes told the whole story to Mrs. Shane, and
she clasped her daughter in her arms and sobbed : " Is
he dead, Edie? is he dead?"
"No, mamma; only hurt," she replied, trying to
keep up a stout heart.
B8 THE STBIKE AT SHANE'S.
Mrs. Shane hastened out to the wagon, and Edith
hurried away in search of Tom and Mike, who came
and carried Mr. Shane into the house. Mr. Tracy
immediately went for the doctor.
" Now, Jerry and Tom, you'll have to trot," he said
to his horses, as he touched them lightly with the whip.
"It's a case of life and death, old boys, so skip along."
And the good horses skimmed over the ground in the
best of humor, and soon returned with the doctor.
On examination Shane was found to have a broken
leg, and a contusion on the head. He remained in a
semi-unconscious condition for the rest of the day.
On the following morning he rallied, but had no recol-
lection of the accident until Mrs. Shane explained the
matter to him. The bitterest pang to him now was the
thought of the two long months of enforced idleness
and suffering that were before him.
CHAFrER VII r.
HE story of the accident was soon spread
abroad over the farm, and was commented
on by all the animals ; but the general
opinion seemed to be that there would be
one person less to abuse them — for a w^hile anyhow.
" I'm sorry Tom wasn't fixed somehow so that he
couldn't get out here to beat us," said the cow.
"I don't like that w^ay of doing," said Dobbin to
Dick. "You went too far in that matter. Of course
everybody will know now that you were playing off,
and they may see through the whole thing, and that
will result in more violence."
"Well, what is done can't be undone," said Dick,
my temper got away with me, and I was tired of sham-
ming. If I had been really lame Shane would have
driven me just the same. I was lame for all he knew
to the contrary, and when he whipped me I started to
run before I had time to think. I knew I might as
well make a complete job of it while I was at it ; for
Shane would know I was shamming anyhow, and I
would have to fight it out with him sometime. You
see, I had put myself in a position where I had to fight
or surrender, and I preferred to fight," '^
60 THE STBIKE AT SHANE'S.
"It's a very bad piece of business," said Dobbin,
"and may make trouble for all of us. You should
have kept your temper."
"I tried to and failed, as you see," said Dick. " I
have neither your age nor experience in such matters,
and make bad breaks sometimes."
"We will have to take some other means of protect-
ing ourselves when Shane gets about again," said Dob-
bin ; "but that won't be for a good many days, so
Towser says."
"It's open war with me now," said Dick. " I don't
intend that the harness shall go on my back again until
this matter is settled. Towser was saying the other
day that Shane said if ever we did get able to work
he would make us pay dear for our vacation."
The days were long and tedious for Shane as he lay
on his bed and brooded over his troubles. To his
physical suffering was added the worry about the con-
dition of things on the farm. Mrs. Shane and the
children tried to keep all further trouble from him by
putting the condition of things in their most favorable
light, but he understood his business too thoroughly
to be deceived.
"Tom, how long before that corn will be ready for
the cultivator?" asked Shane, as Tom was passing
through the room.
"I don't know," said Tom, "but when it is the
neighbors will all come in and plow it over for you."
"Did the blackbirds take much of it?"
"I don't think they took any of it," said Tom.
" Is it a good stand ? "
TBE STRIKE AT SHANE'S. 61
*'It is good enough," replied Tom ; "don't worry
about that ; it will come out all right."
"But I do worry about it. There is something
wrong about it; I can tell it by your actions. Come,
out with it. One more misfortune won't kill me after
I've gone through what I have."
"Well, if you must know," s?id Tom, "the corn
is not a good stand."
" Not a good stand? What is the reason?"
"If you must know about it I might as well tell you
all about it. The corn crop is a failure. The worms
have taken every stock of it, and it will have to be
planted over. Now there ain't any use to worry over
it, for Mr. Tracy said that the neighbors would come
in and plow up the ground and replant it ; but he was
afraid you would not raise much corn there on account
.of the worms."
"Was Tracy's corn destroyed by the worms?"
' No. "
"Nor Smith's?"
"No."
"Nor anybody's else ? "
"Nobody's around here."
"Then fate is agin me, an' I give up the fight,"
said Shane.
"Mr. Tracy says there is something peculiar about
your corn, an' he says he can't account for it unless it
is because there ain't no birds here to take the worms.
Mother an' Edie have been talkin' about there bein' no
birds here ; but I never noticed it particular till Tracy
62 THE STBIKE AT SHANE'S.
spoke about it. But I don't believe that had anything
to do with it."
"I don't go nothin' on them foolish notions of his,"
said Shane; "but it does look like there's a kind of
a fate follerin' me this spring."
" Well, don't worry over it, an' we'll plant it over
again, an' may be it will come out all right in the
end."
"There'll be nothin' in it this year. If the worms
took it once they'll take it again, an' we'll get nothin'
out of the corn crop this year."
Tom left Shane more despondent than ever, and he
spent the remainder of- the day in a very bad mood.
As the shades of evening crept around him he felt the
burden of his misfortunes more severely than ever.
This, in connection with his broken limb, was more than
he could bear, and caused him to groan aloud. The
sound reached Edith, who sat in the adjoining room.
She crept silently into his room and approached his
bed.
"Poor papa, are you suffering miUch?" she asked.
"Oh! 3^es, my girl; it seems like everything is
goin' to ruin."
"Why, papa, how you talk," and she knelt down
by his bedside. "Haven't you a good home, and a
loving family, and kind neighbors?"
"Yes, yes, I know; but then there'll be nothin'
made on the. farm this year."
"What if there isn't ; we will be just as happy."
" You don't understand, girl ; you are not old enougli
to understand these things."
THE STItIKE AT SHANE'S. 6^
"Yes ; but I do understand them, papa. I'm seven- •
teen, and I know that you have been wearing out your
life trying to lay by money and buy more land. It
isn't making us any happier, but instead it is making
you and all of us unhappy ; and papa you are not so
kind as you used to be. You don't love us like you
did when I was a little girl."
"Not love you, Edie? why, of course I do. It is
for you I am trying to save up money. What better
proof do you want of my love ? "
"Why, I want a little of this kind of love," and she
drew his arm around her neck and kissed him for the
first time in years.
This was a new experience for John Shane. The
sunlight of such love had not penetrated the dusty
recesses of his heart for years, and the dust would
have to be cleared away before its genial warmth could
reach his soul.
"You are a good daughter, Edie; but you do not
understand how necessary it is to have money to get
along in the world."
"Oh! yes I do, i^apa ; but I know that money
alone will not bring happiness. Let us be happy and
not worry about money."
"But how can we live without money, child?'*
"Why, you dear old papa, I know you have money
enough in the bank to live on for a year if we didn't
raise any crops at all."
" And what would you do when that was gone?"
"Why, then you \^ill be well, and the horses will be
64 THE 8 f BIKE AT SHAKE'S,
well, and we will all go to work with willing hands and
happy hearts. We will be kind and loving to every-
body and everything, and we won't think so much
about making money."
"It sounds good to hear you talk that way, Edie,
but I'm afraid it won't work. A man must look out
an' provide for his own family, for if he don't nobody
will."
"Yes, but if he allows his love for his family to be
driven out by the love of money it seems to me he has
made a bad bargain."
"Well, good night, daughter; you've cheered me
up for a while, anyhow. My misfortunes worry me
most on account of those who are dependent on me. I
want to put them above want."
"There now, papa ; no more about that. Let us
encourage love and kindness toward one another and
trust in God. Good night, papa," and she gave him
another kiss and left him.
John Shane was restless ; as the hours dragged their
weary length along the loneliness of his situation
pressed itself c n him . The conversation with Edith had
aroused the latent energies of his soul, and his heart
yearned for human sympathy. He had lived a lonely
life ; his whole soul had been possessed by the one idea
of making money. He did not think that anyone else
was suffering while he was following this false light,
but here was Edith, who had been yearning for her
father's love and had been denied it. Her face
haunted him ; her voice was ringing in his ears. Her
THE STRIKE AT SHANE'S, 65
words were present iu his memory. Her face and
voice reminded him of one that he had known long
ago — one that he had loved in the years gone by.
Who could it be? Why, Mary his wife, of course,
whom he had almost forgotten that he ever loved, and
when he married her she looked like Edith ; why to be
sure, and he had almost forgotten it. He felt an
indescribable desire to tell her that he loved her yet,
and called her to him. When she came and stood
beside his bed the vision created by a sick man's fancy
faded ; for it was not Edith's bright and sunny face
that bent over him, but his wife's, and the twenty
years that she had toiled by his side had left their
mark there. The youth and beauty had gone, and her
hair was streaked with gray. It was Mary Shane that
stood beside him, and not the vision of Mary Malott
that Edith's face had recalled ; and he was John Shane
again with wrinkled face and stooping shoulders. The
vision had faded and the words of affection that his
lips should have uttered were left unsaid.
"Did you want something, John?"
"Only a little assistance in changing my position,"
he replied.
That done, she started away. His conscience smote
him and the vision came back. He recalled her and
she returned to his bedside.
"What is it, John?" she inquired.
"I am lonely to-night," he replied; "can't you sit
with me a while?'*
"Why, yes ; all night if you need me."
66 THE STRIKE AT SHANE'S.
She sat clown by him, and he told her how he was
beginning to see that his life was not what it should bo.
That he had neglected his duty as- a husband and
father, and had lived too much alone, and that hence-
forth he wanted to take his family more into his confi-
dence. He would have told her that he loved her as of
yore, but it had been so long since he had spoken such
words ( f affection to her that the words came but
awkwardly to his lips, and he left them unspoken.
She replied, with tears in her eyes, that she knew that
their thoughts had been drifting apart, and she hailed
with joy the dawn of a brighter day, T^^hen their lives
would flow in the same channel.
Soothed by these thoughts he soon fell asleep, and
his tired and worn out wife retired to rest, hoping that
the future might not dispel the bright hopes raised that
night.
m
CHAPTER IX.
HE thoughts of the night vanished with the
gleams of the rising sun, and the good
resohitions that John Shane had made in
his conversation with his wife were soon
The coming of day always meant more to
' him, and the habit of being up with the sun to engage
; in his daily toil was of such a fixed character that it
angered him to think that he was confined to his bed.
. Edith's tenderness had led his fancy back twenty years,
r and he felt again the hopes that had inspired him in
i former years when Mary Malott became his wife ; but
[ the light of day brought back the thoughts of his busi-
: ness, and he was even a little ashamed that he had
'-.. allowed himself to indulge in such thoughts and words
as he did the night before.
The breath of mammon had dissipated the perfume
of holiness that had penetrated his heart, and he was
again the man of business, blinded by the glitter of
gold, unable to see the beauties of a trusting wife and
^ a loving daughter.
f Time passed on until two weeks had elapsed since
f the accident, and the strike was strictly maintained by
all the animals. Their lot had been a little easier since
68 THE STRIKE AT SHANE'S.
Shane had been confined to the house and they had
only Tom to contend with, for Mike was not a hard-
hearted fellow, but had only done the bidding of his
employer. He never abused the dumb animals on the
farm when he could avoid it.
"I'll tell ye, Tom," said Mike, one day, "let's thry
a little different plan wid thim horses, an' see if we
can't build 'em up a bit."
"Bother the horses ; they're goin' to destruction like
everything else on the farm," said Tom.
" Be aisy, now, 'til I tell ye how we'll do it. Let's
clane out the stables, an' put clane straw in the stalls
for beddin'. Thin we'll make a nice warm mash for
'em to ate, an' thrate 'em like gintlemen, begorra, an'
see if we can't put some life into 'em."
"You can try it if you want to, but I shan't fool
away my time that way," said Tom.
"By your lave I'll thry that same plan mesilf, thin,"
said Mike.
Mike was as good as his word, and brought the
horses up at night, and had bedding of nice clean straw
for them to sleep on. He curried, brushed and rubbed
them, until their neglected coats began to shine again.
He saw that they were properly fed w^th good whole-
some food, and closed the openings in the stable, that
the night winds might not blow on them.
"What's up now, do you suppose?" said Dobbin,
after Mike had gone away. "This begins to look like
things were turning our way."
"I don't like favors coming from the hand of the
THE 8TRIKE AT SHANE'S. 69
enemy," said Dick. "Let's go slow until we find out
if there isn't some trick in it." "
"Well, no matter what the cause of the change is,
I'm going to get all the pleasure I can out of my im-
proved condition for one night, anyhow," said the sor-
rel horse ; and the gray mare said ; ' ' Them's my senti-
ments.'*
Mike followed up his plan by giving them the same
attention the next day, and the horses began to think
that a change had come for the better, but Dick main-
tained that it was because their old enemy Shane was
laid up. Mike never was a cruel master, and he
thought Mike was taking advantage of his employer's
sickness to give them a little better treatment.
" Well, if Mike is going to be fair with us, let's be
fair with him," said the sorrel. "I'm kind of tired of
pla^dng sick, anyhow."
"I don't object to working for anybody that will
treat me fair," said Dick; "and if Mike is going to
treat us right I am willing to work."
About this time Mike went up to the house to see
Mr. Shane.
"Mornin' to ye, Misther Shane ; an' how are ye this
mornin'?" said Mike.
"Bad, Mike, still bad," said Shane; "everything
is goin' to ruin on the place I suppose."
"Faith now an' they're not. I've been tindin' to
thim horses mesilf for a few days ; I'm tindin' to 'em
rigular, and ye ought to see the improvement in 'em.
Why, they'll all be at work again in a few days."
70 THE STBIKE AT SHAKE'S,
*'Well, that's some eucouragement anyhow," said
Shane. "What are you doing for the horses?"
"I'm just tratin' 'em like gintlemen. Pm doin'
unto tliim horses as I would have thim do unto me. I
ain't much of a scholar, and maybe not so good a
Christian as I ought to be, but I belave that's a good
rule to go by. Just trate 'em kindly an' dacently, an'
that's the whole sacret of it all. Just lave me alone
wid 'em, an' I'll have 'em at work again in a few
days."
Edith came in shortly after Mike took his leave.
" Good morning, Edie ; I believe I feel a little bet-
ter this morning," said Shane. *
"I'm glad to 'hear that," said Edith. "I'll just
open the window so that you can see out. I'm afraid
mamma is going to be sick ; she is scarcely able to
be up."
"AVhy, what is the matter with her?" inquired
Shane. He had been so engrossed by his own selfish
thoughts that he had not noticed that his wife was
wearing out under the increased duties put upon her
since his sickness.
Sure enough Mrs. Shane was tkken sick that day,
and Towser carried the news to the barnyard.
"Well now, that's bad," said Dobbin. " Some one
of us will have to go for a doctor."
"I'll go," said Dick.
" I hope they'll take me," said the sorrel. " I am
tired of staying at home, anyhow."
Mike was called up to go for a physician. "Time
THE STRIKE AT SHANE'S, 71
is money," he said; " an' I'll just take one of these
horses. I wonther which one of the lazy rogues I'd
bether take."
Dick whinnied, as much as to say, "I'll go.'*
"Ah! ye rogue, would ye thry yer ould thrick an'
run away wid me ? But ye're the fastest one of the lot,
an' I'll thry ye anyhow."
He harnessed Dick, and hitched him to the bugg3\
Once in the highway, Dick skimmed over the ground
like a bird and soon brought the physician to Mrs.
Shane's bedside.
" It was just a case of overwork and lack of sleep,"
said the physician. "Too much hard work in the day,
and sitting up of nights, and all she needed was com-
plete rest."
Mr. Tracy came over that day to see Shane.
" Things are worse than ever, now, neighbor Tracy,"
said Shane, and he related his new misfortune in his
wife's sickness. "Wh}^, I never thought about her
overworkin' herself," he said.
"Well, if you'll allow me to speak plainly to you,
neighbor Shane, you should have seen that your wife
was breaking down under the strain of increased duties
that have been put upon her since your sickness."
"I admit it," said Shane; "but I had so many
things to think of that I never thought of it."
"Why, my dear friend, is there anything more im-
portant to 3^ou than the health and happiness of your
family? The happiness of those who are dependent
upon you should be the uppermost thought in your
72 THE STRIKE AT SHANE' 8.
mind. The wife who has confided her life to your
keeping should be the first in yonv thoughts."
"I really had not thought about her being over-
worked," said Shane.
' ' You have a false idea of the powers of endurance
of both man and beast. There is a limit to the ph^^si-
cal endurance of both, which can be and often is
exceeded. You have the proof of that statement
before 3'ou. Y(^ur wife is down sick from overwork,
and your horses are disabled from the same cause."
"There, I don't agree with you," said Shane. "It's
just a streak of bad luck I have struck, and I couldn't
help it."
"If you would just stop and reason about the mat-
ter you would see it in a different light. I don't want
to intrude upon your private affairs, but I feel that it
is my duty to present some things to you in the light
that I see them, for I think that you are blinded, and
do not see things that are to your interest. You have
sacrificed your own happiness and that of your family
to get money, and what have you got in return? Why,
nothing ; while I, who have followed the other rule of
seeking happiness, have more of this world's wealth
than you have, and I do not want to say it with any
thought of boasting."
"You always was lucky," said Shane.
"There is no luck about it," said Tracy. "The
word of God is true, and if a man tries to follow its
teachings I believe he will be prospered."
Edith had come in and sat down by Shane's bed-
side, and taken his hand in hers.
THE STBIKE AT SHANE'S. 73
"Papa," she said, "I think Mr. Tracy is right, and
I wish you would heed his words."
' ' There is something peculiar about the condition of
things here on the farm," continued Tracy, " which lam
unable to understand ; and while I don't think that God
ever singles out one individual on which to inflict pun-
ishment, yet it does not seem to me that the situation
of things here is a matter of chance. Why, if you
have not noticed it I will call j^our attention to the
fact that there is not a bird on your farm."
"Yes, papa; if you will just listen there is not a
bird's voice to be heard, and they used to sing so
sweetly," said Edith. "It is so lonely without them,
and makes me feel like some great misfortune is hang-
ing over us."
"I think my attention had been called to their
absence," said Shane ; "but I thought I was lucky to
get rid of 'em."
"Quite the contrary," said Tracy, " it is the most
unfortunate thing that has occurred to you. Those
birds that you have been trying to kill all your life,
and which you have succeeded in driving away, would
have saved your crop, which has been destroyed by
worms and insects. Why, there have been hundreds
of them in my fields all the spring, and see what a fine
prospect I have for a good cro]). If you would take
time to study these matters you would see that birds
are one of the best gifts God has given us. They
destroy immense numbers of insects that are injurious
to trees and plants, and I think that all the vegetation
74 THE STBIKE AT SHANE'S.
on your farm shows the absence of what would be your
best friends. Whether you drove them away or
whether some superior intelligence directed their flight
I cannot tell, but they are gone, and your farm is suf-
fering from their absence."
"That is true, papa. The birds were your friends,
and you drove them away," said Edith.
"There may be something in that," said Shane, half
con-sinced ; "an' I'll think about it."
"God gave us the beasts and birds for our use and
benefit. He gave man dominion over them, and he
has not withdrawn or changed his law ; but he can
remove them from our presence, as he has removed
the birds from this farm. He can disable the dumb
animals so that they cannot work for us, as is the
case with your horses, although I think the condi-
tion of your horses is the result of overwork. You
will have to admit that you have overworked your
horses this spring. It is a remarkable fact that they
all became afflicted at the same time, and one that I
can't understand. You must realize, friend Shane,
that horses have a physical construction similar to our
own, and that their strength can be overtaxed the
same as a man's, and if overwork will break down
your wife's health, as you now see that it has, why
will it not do the same to a horse ? "
' ' I begin to see that I may have been mistaken in
regard to these matters," said Shane, and Edith gave
his hand an encouraging clasp.
"Why, kindness goes a long way with dumb brutes
THE STBIKE AT SHANE'S. 75
in helping them to bear up under hard work," con-
tinued Tracy, '''•and I fear that you haven't given your
animals the encouragement of kind icords even. Love
and kindness are the powers that govern the world.
You may control a horse by force for a while, but if he
has any spirit it will breakout sometime, and the horse
by his superior strength will be master, as was the case
with Dick when he ran away with you. Mike said he
never saw a horse drive nicer than Dick did when he
went after the doctor. Why, you wouldn't know your
own horses, Shane, since Mike has been applying the
'golden rule' to them, as he says. If they keep on
improving they will be at work again in a short time."
"Won't that be nice, papa?" said Edith.
"I just give you these points to think about, and
when you get up put them into practice, and see if it
don't prove more profitable than the old way. I'll get
the neighbors together and we'll replant that corn and
see if you can't make a crop yet. I'll send Cora, over
to help Edie with the work until you can get some one
else. So good bye, friend Shane, and don't worry
about your business, for your neighbors will help you
out."
CHAPTER X.
HANE thought seriously about the conver-
sation he had with Tracy, and came to the
conchision that perhaps he had been fol-
lowing a false light —that he had not
gotten as much happiness out of life as he might. He
recalled many acts of unkindness towards the wife and
daughter who loved him, and he resolved to lead a dif-
ferent life.
AVhile these thoughts were in his 'mind Edith came
into the room and sat down beside him.
*'How is your mother now, Edie?" he said.
*'I think she is better, papa."
*'Edie, I've been thinkin' that I haven't done right
by her. I haven't made her life as happy as I might,
an' I'm goin' to change things when I get well.'*
**I'm sure mamma never complains, jDapa, but we
would all be so much happier if you would give us the
same love you used to," said Edith, " and give up this
struggle for money and try to be happy."
*' That's what I'm goin' to do, Edie."
*'0h! papa, I'm so glad," and she put her arms
around his neck.
''And, Edie, you spend a good deal of time readin'
])ooks ; what do you think of Tracy's ideas in regard to
animals ? "
76
THE STBIKE AT SHADE'S. 77
"They are true, papa, they are true," she said.
"God gave us the bh'ds aud ammals, and I think
it is a sin for us to abuse them. He will certainly hold
us to account for our treatment of his creatures." Her
bowed head bent over his face, and a tear-drop from
her eye fell on his cheek. "And oh! papa, if you
would be loving and kind, not only to mamma and
Tom and me, but to all the living creatures that God has
given us, I would love you so much, and we would be
so much happier."
"There, now, daughter, don't cry. I beheve you
are right about it, an' I'm goin' to change things an'
try a new way. It may come a little awkAvard at first,
but I think I can get used to it."
"Oh! papa, I'm so glad. I'll go and tell mamma,
and it will help her to get well," said Edith.
"Just send Tom in ; I want to talk to him awhile,"
said Shane.
Tom sauntered into his father's room wondering what
was up, for he had seen by Edith's face that some-
thing important had happened.
"Tom," said Shane, after a pause of a few seconds,
"I've come to the conclusion that we haven't been
runnin' the farm on the right principle. I know you've
been follerin' in my footsteps an' doin' things as I do
'em, which is quite natural for a boy to do ; but I guess
Ave've been mistaken in a few things, an' we'll just take
a square turn an' make a new start in another direction.
There's somethin' wrong on the farm, an' if it's a judg-
ment sent on us for some of our shortcomings, why,
78 THE STRIKE AT SHANE'S,
let's try an' git iu the right path agiu. We'll try kind-
ness toward our dumb animals, an' the birds, an' each
other, an' see if that ain't a better rule to live by.**
"I'm agreed to that," said Tom, much to his father's
surprise, "for I've been thinking some that way my-
self, since Mike has been takin' care of the horses an'
applyin' the 'golden rule' to 'em, as he says. It has
helped 'em more than all of Hodge's doctorin'."
"Well, we'll try the rule of kindness from now on,"
said Shane, and so the matter was settled.
Towser, who had been lying under the window, got
up and capered about the yard for pure joy, and the
next morning, before daybreak, he was out in the
barnyard and had related the whole story of Shane's
new resolutions, which created quite a sensation among
the animals.
"I think we have reason to believe that it is all true,
for we have had much better treatment in the past
week than ever before in our li\i>s," said Dobbin.
"I feel quite well this morning, and if 1 had a good
feed I think I could pull a plow," said the sorrel.
"Under the circumstances I'm ready to go to work
again," said the gray mare.
"I wish I could lay two eggs to-day," cackled the
hen, and as an evidence of her good intentions she
made a new nest on the barn floor, where Edith could
not help but find it.
Dobbin called another convention of all the birds
and animals for the purpose of declaring the strike
ended, and Towser volunteered to carry the news all
THE STBIKE AT SHANE'S, 79
around ; and at noon, when they met at the oak tree,
there was not one absent. Towser related what he had
heard under the window, and they all accepted the
matter as a settled fact.
Dobbin declared the strike ended, and requested
them all to go to work in good earnest to help Shane
out of his troubles. The horses all agreed to go to
work the next day. The cow said she would astonish
everybody by the amount of milk she would give.
Towser told them that farmer Tracy had promised
that the neighbors would come and replant the corn the
next day.
"Then I will have a few hundreds of my friends
here to kill all the worms in the field if they will let
us," said the blackbird, and all the other birds volun-
teered their assistance and promised that the farm
should be immediately inhabited by an army of birds.
The meeting adjourned sine die, and then there was
great rejoicing over the success of the strike.
"Why, there's a robin in the cedar tree,** said
Pxlith, in surprise that afternoon. "It seems like a
promise of better times to hear its welcome voice.
Why, mamma, just listen, there is a host of them
coming."
The trees were soon filled with birds of all kinds,
which chirped and sang with all their power.
"Papa, just listen to the birds," said Edith, entering
her father's room. "Isn't it delightful to have them
back again?"
"It does seem more pleasant to have 'em here," said
80 TBE STRIKE AT SHAKE'S.
Shane; *' but it's the strangest thing lever heard of
that they'd all come back at once."
''''Perhaps God sent them back on account of your
good resolutions to he kind to all his creatures " said
Edith, and she knelt down by his bedside and put her
arms around his neck. ' ' Promise me here in His name,
papa, that you will keep that resolution.**
''I do," he answered.
*' Well, I never seen the like," shouted Tom, as he
came bolting into the house. "Them horses are just
prancin' an' runnin' all over the pasture, just like they
never had anything the matter with 'em. Seems like
Mike's treatment was purty good to cure 'em up so
soon. I think old Hodges had better take a few les-
sons from him."
" Tes, and don't forget to take a few lessons your-
self, Tom, for you may have to practice in that line.
Listen to the birds, too," said Edith.
"By gracious I hadn't noticed *em. It begins to
look like the old place was coming back to itself, don't
it ? " and he caught her around the waist and whirled
her away in a fantastic dance, until she broke loose
from him to go to her mother's room with the good
news.
In the morning, as Tom went out to the barn he
saw three or four cats running about the barn, and
picked up a stone to throw at them. *■
" 5e aisy there ^ noic" said Mike; ^ ifs agin the
rules to do that noio,'*
"Right you are," said Tom ; " but I can't get used
to it. What arc they doing here, anyhow?"
THE STB IKE AT SHAKE'S. 81
*'Begorra, they're killin' all the rats in the barn, an'
the divil a rat can get away from all thim cats."
"Good luck to 'em, then, for the rats were about to
take us," said Tom. "How were the horses?"
"Now, look ye, Tom; do ye mind how lame thim
horses was?"
"Yes."
"Well, the di^^l a stiff leg is there among 'em at all,
except Dobbin."
"How do you account for it?" asked Tom.
" Ifs the tratement I give 'em. Tve got a resati
for it^ an* it's good for man an* baste, an' ivery other
living crayture. Ye' 11 find it in the Good Book, an' its
like this : ' Do thou unto others as thou loouldst have
them do unto thee^' an' that's a good resate, hegorra"
"Why, Mike, you're getting poetical."
" Sure an' I'm feelin' poetical, an' if me voice wasn't
out of tune I'd sing ye a bit of a song."
"Never mind your voice ; give us the song."
' ' Thin here goes wid a song I composed mesilf to
suit the occasion : —
I'm Michael McCarty,
So hale and so hearty —
I work ivery day in the year ;
The horses all know me,
The cattle all show me
They know they have nothing to fear.
Stan' up for the brutes,
An' the birds, if it suits
An' the chickens an' turkeys alone,
82 THE STBIKE AT SHAXE'S.
For God made 'em all,
'An they came at his call,
An' he gave 'em to man for his own.
We shouldn't abuse 'em.
Nor cruelly use 'era ;
Begorra, I know I am right,
An' before ye shall do it,
I'll have ye to know it,
'Tis Michael M'Carty ye'll fight.''
** Bravo! Mike," shouted Edith, who had entered
the barn unperceived just as Mike commenced his
song.
"Faith, I didn't know I had such an ilegant audi-
ence, or sure I'd have been blushin' all the time."
" Quite unnecessary, I am sure," said Edith ; "your
audience appreciates j^our song, and will encore you on
the slightest provocation."
"Thin I could only bow me thanks, for sure 'tis the
only song I know," said Mike; "an' 'tis that swate
voice of yours we would like to hear, if ye'll be so
kind as to sing us a song."
"Oh ! excuse me, please," said Edith.
"Oh! come, now," said Tom, " you slipped into our
entertainment an' you can't get off so easy. Give us
a song or I'll lock you in the barn."
"An' I'll let ye out," said Mike, "but sing us a
song, because ye're a nice, swate little girl an' want
to plaze yer f rinds."
THE STBIKE AT SHANE'S. 83
"AVell, if T must, I will," said Edith, and she sang
the foUomng lines to the tune of "Auld Lang Syne" :
This earth was ouce inhabited
By birds and beasts alone,
AVho held dominion over it,
And ruled it as their own
'Till God created man and made
Him ruler over all ;
And then the birds and beasts at once
Fell prostrate at his call.
Restrain the hand in anger raised
To treat them cruelly ;
He gave them as a precious gift
In trust to you and me.
He gave them for our benefit.
And not to be abused.
And he who violates that trust
Stands before God accused.
Then do to them as thou wouldst wish
That they should do to thee.
And do not violate the trust
God placed in you and me.
** Thank ye. Miss Edith, thank ye; it's a beautiful
song, it is. I'm not much at the singin' like ye are ;
but I can be doin' them things ye sung about, an* I'll
not be forgettin' 'em soon."
''Now, come on, bye, an' let's be gettin' ready for
the work. The neighbors mil all be comin' in purty
soon to replant the corn, an' won't they be surprised
to see us wid a good team goiu' out into the field to
work ? Begorra they will.**
CHAPTER XI.
OHN Shane's neighbors came promptly to
his assistance, as they always do in farming-
communities. They came with their teams
and tools, prepared to put in the corn, and
the work of plowing up the ground and replanting the
corn went merrily on. The birds came and did their
share of the work. They followed the plows all day
long and caughf every worm that came to view. The
men plowed the ground and harrowed it and stirred it
all they could, so that the birds might get the worms.
Shane's horses went to the work with a will, and did as
much as any team on the farm. It was a glorious day,
and a jollier crowd of men never got together than
these same farmers. They felt happy because they
were doing a generous deed, and they worked with a
will until noon. The dinner bell rang and they went
to the house to meet a fresh surprise. Every man's
wife and daughter was there, and they had spread a
long table under the trees, and put on it a feast that
would tempt the appetite of an epicure.
They had gotten Mr. Shane in a chair and placed
him at the window where he could see it all ; and
Mrs. Shane sat by his side, husband and wife, happier
THE STRIKE AT SHANE'S. 8$
than they had been in many years. What a great
feast that was there under the trees. What appetites
the men had, and how eager the women were to satisfy
them. They laughed and joked and ate, and there
never was such a jolly time as they had on the Shane
farm.
They worked all day and came back the next day,
and worked until every hill of corn was planted again.
The next day the rain fell and moistened the ground,
and the sun came out and warmed it, and the corn
sprouted and grew, and there was a great prospect for
the future. 'Tis true the worms took some of it, but
they had put an extra grain in each hill for the worms.
The birds could not get all the worms, but they got
most of them. The Shane farm was getting in accord
with the plan of the universe, and prosperity was smil-
ing on it.
Shane felt that he was in the right path now, and he
studiously followed it. During the time he was con-
fined to the house with his broken limb Edith had
induced him to read the books loaned her by Cora
Tracy, which treat of animals and birds and their
uses.
In a few more weeks Shane recovered so much that
he could walk about the farm on crutches. He could
not help but mark the difference in the appearance of
things. There was a look of content about every-
thing.
The first time he went to the barn Dick came up to
him, and putting out his nose touched Shane's hand.
86 THE STRIKE AT SHANE'S.
* ' I actually believe the horse is trying to ask my
pardon," said Shane. "It would be more proper for
me to ask his pardon for mistreating him so long."
He patted Dick's neck and said, "I think we under-
stand each other now, old fellow."
"I tell ye, Misther Shane, I never see horses work
nicer than these same horses of yours," said Mike.
"I think we'll have Dobbin prancin' around again
purty soon."
"Poor old Dobbin. I'm afraid he'll not get much
more enjoyment out of life, but he shall have an easy
time of it as long as he lives."
But ere another year had gone by old Dobbin found
a resting place beneath the sod, and the question was
again asked, " Who knowefi that the sjnrlt of man
goeth upivard and the spirit of the beast goeth down-
ward .^ " God created him and made him subject to the
will of man, and in the end God took him. The part
that was mortal went back to the earth. If there was
any immortal element in him God took it and knows
what to do with it.
The work went on merrily on the Shane farm, and
everything prospered. The birds did their duty nobly,
and the crops were looking splendidly. Shane com-
pletely recovered from his broken limb, and people
remarked that Shane didn't seem like the same man he
used to be. He had learned that the birds were his
friends ; he had watched them in their work during the
summer, and noticed how diligent they were in
searching for insects. They took a few cherries and
berries, it is true, but when he came to estimate the
THE 8TBIKE AT SHANE'S, 87
value of the fruit taken he saw that its vahie was
greatly overbalanced by the benefits he received.
He had been accustomed to employing men to work
for him, and he estimated the wages he would have to
pay these men in comparison with the profits he could
make out of their labor. If the balance was on his
side of 'the account he employed them, and if not he
didn't. He estimated the same way in regard to the
birds.
The corn crop destroyed by the worms in the spring
was worth more than all the fruit on his farm, and the
second crop planted, which he believed now was saved
by the birds, was worth all the fruit he would raise in
several years. So he reasoned the matter with Edith.
"But, papa," she said, "isn't there something
grander and nobler in this question than the mere
money side of it?"
"Oh! yes, Edie ; I see that side of the question,
too. / recognize now that they are God's creatures,
sent for our benefit, and that as he has given them to us
he can take them away.'*
* ' And isn't there something more than that ? " asked
Edith.
' ' Yes ; I appreciate their sweet songs now as I never
did before. There are a great many beauties in nature
that I never saw before. I begin to appreciate the
gentleness and docility of our domestic animals. I
don't blame Dick for running away with me ; he only
retaliated for the ill-usage I had given him. I do not
intend that any dumb animal shall ever be mistreated
on this farm again.'*
88 TtiE STBIKE AT SHAJ^JS'iS.
"Faith an' I don't think there's iuy body on the
farm now that wants to mistrate 'em, Misther Shane,'*
said Mike, who had come in with Tom.
"I can trust you, Mike, for you always was opposed
to mistreating the animals, but I didn't know but what
Tom might have some of the old ideas yet," said
Shane.
" Niver ye fear for that bye, Misther Shane. Be-
gorra, he's a bigger crank than Misther Tracy himsilf ,
an' I think it's a young leedy of that name that's having
a dale of influence wid 'im on tliim points^ eh 9 " and he
gave Tom a vigorous poke in the ribs.
"Oh ! shut up," said Tom, " that rattle-clap tongue
of yours is always clattering about something."
"All right, me bye, 'tis Michael McCarty knows a
thing or two, an' he has the tongue to tell yQ of it wid.
Arrah, I've been kapin' me two eyes open mesilf,
this summer, an' I've changed the song I sung ye in
the spring like this : —
Tom Shane's a bye of some good sinse —
He's goin' to use it all,
An' from the looks of things just now,
Bedad he'll marry this fall,
Bedad he'll marry this fall,
An' from the looks of things just now,
Bedad he'll marry this fall.
That is, ye know, if he can get his feyther's consint."
The laugh was at Tom's expense, and they retired
in good humor.
"Mike's surmise was correct, for Tom Shane and
THE STBIKE AT SH AXE'S. 89
Cora Tracy were married the next winter, and it was
her influence which had worked a cliange in Tom's
thoughts and actions towards the lower animals.
The summer wore away and the winter was coming
on. Shane's corn crop was in the crib, and had yielded
far beyond his expectations, and his horses were sleek
and fat and happy. He had brought the carpenters
up from the village to repair the stables so that no cold
blasts of winter winds would blow on his horses. He
had bought blankets for his horses — something he had
never done before.
The cold weather came on apace, and about the mid-
dle of November there came a snowstorm. The piti-
less blasts of wind drove the snow in blinding sheets
across the fields, and made the warm fireside in the
Shane household seem doubly dear to all who love a
home.
Edith was standing at the window watching the
gusts of wind drive the snow about.
" Oh ! say, papa, there is some animal down at the
gate," said Edith. "Are any of ours out?"
"I think not," he said, coming to the window.
* ' Ah I it is that old mule that has been living in the
highway all summer."
" Whom does it belong to, papa?"
"I don't know ; it is a stray. It looks hke a shame
to let the old fellow stand out there and starve," said
Shane.
"Let's take him in until the storm is over, anyhow,"
said Edith.
90 THE STlilKE AT SHANE'S.
" Well, it shall be done," said Shane. "Tom, you
an' Mike go an' put that old mule in the back stall an'
give him something to eat."
The mule, much to his astonishment, was driven into
the stable and put in a warm stall. Corn and hay
were put in for him to eat, and he proceeded to fill his
empty stomach without any thought of saying grace.
' ' How is this ? " he cried to Dobbin ; ' ' there's been
some changes since I was here before."
"Well, I should say so," said Dobbin. " We have
everything heart could wish for now."
"Well, I'm glad to hear that," said the mule, "and
if I can get a job here I'm going to stay."
"I hope you^ will," said Dobbin, " for we all feel
kindly towards you for instructing us how to carry on
the strike."
"Well, there's one mule thoroughly surprised," said
Tom, after they had returned to the house. "1 never
saw an animal look so surprised as he did when we put
him in the stable ; an' the way he shook the snow off
his old faded hide and went for that corn was a sight
to see."
"Well, it won't cost much to keep him, an' I guess
we'U just let him stay this winter," and the mule got
his job.
" That's right, Misther Shane ^ an' the good God xmll
give ye cridit for it in the nixt world," said Mike.
' ' A nd all God-fearing people will give you credit for
it in tMs world," said Mrs. Shane,
THE STBIKE AT SH AXE'S.
01
"The satisfaction of a good easy conscience is all
the rcAvard I want," said Shane.
Prosperity smiles on John Shane's farm, and no con-
sideration would induce him to return to the old way
of li\ing. May the time soon come ivlieii all memoill
recognize the fact that the laws of God and himianity
require us to be merciful to the dumb animaJs, and to
grant the same justice and mercy to them ive loould ask
for ourselves.
W'
*'WHAT DO YOU MEAN BY HUMANE
EDUCATION, MR. ANGELL?"
I answer.
(i.) That which tells the ill effects on htimaii being!', of the ill treat-
ment of dumb animals — how it poisons meats and milk — how even fish,
killed mercifully as soon as they are caught, are better and more whole
some food than those that stcffer h&ioxe. they die — how important bisect
eating birds are to agriculture — how important that they and their nests
be protected.
(2.) That which teaches how atiimals should be cared foi as to tight
check reins, blinders, docking, proper food, rest, protection from the
weather, exercise, kind words, and a merciful death.
(3.) But infinitely more important, that which
tends to prevent all cruelty y both to our own a?id the lower
races,
(4.) Through over sixty years of my own life I can remember the
songs and stories of my boyhood. They have influenced mv rvhole life.
(5.) While all the other ■A7nerica7i Colonies rvere at war with the
Indians, the Colony founded by William Penn rested t7i perfect peace.
(6.) In 1S78 I called upon President Hayes, at Washington, to ask him
to put in his annual message to Congress something in regard to the
cruel transportation of animals. He said : " Wheti I was at school I once
heard a sermon in regard to animals, zvhich I have never f org otte7i " / and
he put into his 7nessage to Co7igfess al77iost verbatim what I wrote.
(7.) In 1S75 I addressed the Faculty and students of Dartmouth Col-
lege, 07t the relation of a7iimals that can speak to those that are diiittb.
In 1885, ten years later, at the close of an address to the Faculty and
students of a university in New Orleans, a gentleman rose in the audi-
ence and said: '^ Some tenyears ago I was a stude7it in Dartmouth Col-
lege, whe7t Mr. A7ig ell gave a7i address there 07i this subject. I had 7iever
thought of it before. Whe7i I left college no 07ie thought was more
strons^ly impressed 07i my mind tha7i that of 7ny duty to the lower ani-
mals." He was the superintendent of the public schools of Minneapolis.
(8.) In iS7oand'7i I spent about six months, and about six hundred
dollars, founding, at Chicago, the Illinois Hiuna7ie Society. Although
every daily paper in the city helped me, and printed columns I wrote, I
should have failed to raise the necessary funds but for 07ie mati vjIw had
been taught, whe7i a little boy in New Hampshire. kind7iess to animals. In
the great stock yards of Chicago alone 7niirions of du7nb animals are now
properly fed aiid watered, a7id largely protected from cruelty every year,
because that little boy was taught kindness to ani7nals.
Fathers may be cruel, mothers may be cruel, brothers and sisters may
be cruel. It may be impossible in many instances to teach kindness
through the7n. But even in the homes of crime, hearts may be made more
tender by kind acts and words for the dumb creatures that always retur7i
love for love, Geo. T. Angell.
What is Overloading a Horse, and How
Proved ?
By GEORGE T. ANGELL,
President of Uie A merican Humane Education Society, the Massachusetts
Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals, and the Pare fit
American Band of Mercy, 19. Milk Street, Boston.
The following, taken from " Bishop on Statutory Crimes,^'' edi-
tion of 1873, P^ge 689, is believed to be sound law, the -world
overy on the above subject.
It was written by Mr. Angell in reviewing a decision of a
Massachusetts Court in 1868 that there was no cruelty because
other horses of the same weight were able to draw the load in
question. // was the first and last decision of the kind ever ren-
dered in Massachusetts.
"Must an animal be worked until he breaks a blood vessel or
drops dead, before the law takes cognizance .? Is the horse to
be strained, or worked to the extreme limit of his strength, be-
fore such straining or working becomes a cruelty (that is, before
the act of his master becomes 'overloading').'' Can an ex-
pert, or any number of experts, say what is the limit of strength
or endurance of any horse, simply by knowing his weight,'* It
seems to me that these questions can be easily answered.
Horses, like men, are of different ages, constitutions, tempera-
ments, formation, and degrees of strength. One horse, just like
one man, may be twice as fast, twice as tough, twice as strong,
as another of precisely the same weight ; and, inasmuch as horses,
like men, are liable to a great variety of sicknesses, and suffer,
just like men, from previous overworking and from heat, want
of proper rest, food, water, shelter, and care, it follows that the
same horse, like the same man, may be able to perform without
injury more labor in one day than another.
" Can a thousand experts prove that all men of a given weight
or size are equally competent, on every day of the year, to per-
form a given labor ? Can their testimony establish how much
load a man of given weight should carry, and how far he should
carry it on a given day, without regard to whether the man is old
or young, sick or well, strong or weak, tough or tender, already
tired or rested, full-fed or starved, or the day hot or cold } And
does not precisely the same reason apply to the horse, — that
what one horse can do one day has no force in showing what an-
other ought to do 071 another day, unless you show the weather,
age, strength, toughness, and bodily condition of the two to
be precisely similar.'' I say, then, that it is just as impossible
for any number of experts, knowing only the weight or size of a
horse and nothing of his age, health, strength, toughness, and
"bodily condition, to establish what is, or is not, overloading
Overloading a Horse (concluded^.
him, as it would be, knowing only the size or weight of a man,
and nothing of his age, health, strength, toughness, or bodily
condition, to establish what is or is not an overload for him.
" How, then, are we to determine when a horse is overloaded?
Just exactly and precisely as we determine when a man is over-
loaded. First, -we are to take his own evidence. If a man stops
and says, ' I am overloaded, I am working too hard, I feel that
the task put upon me is too heavy,' that is evidence. So when
the horse, ordinarily kind and willing to pull, comes with a
heavy load to a rise of land and, after one or two efforts, stops
and says, as plainly as words can speak it, ' I am overloaded, I
am working too hard, I feel that the task put upon me '. too
heavy,' that is evidence; and there is no court or jury, oi man
with the heart of a man, who will not recognize it as such. Be-
sides, the signs of overwork are just as visible in the hor \ as
the man. No magistrate or juror would have any difficui y in
deciding in his own mind whether a case to which his attention
might be attracted in our public streets was or was not a case of
cruelty.
"Is not, then, the testimony of competent, intelligent, and
credible bystanders, who see how the horse looks and acts, and
his bodily condition, health, and capability to perform the labor
required, the best evidence that can possibly be obtained?
Where can you get better? And when disinterested and intel-
ligent witnesses, who are present and see and hear all that is
said and done in a given case, voluntarily leave their ordinary
avocations and come into court to testify that they are fully sat-
isfied that the case is a clear case of cruelty, can such evidence
be overbalanced by that of any number of experts who are not
present, see nothing that occurs, know nothing of the age,
health, strength, or bodily condition of the horse at the time,
and who base their calculations simply upon the avoirdupois
weight of the animal ? It is perfectly evident, then, I say, that the
highest and best evidence which any court or jury can ask or pos-
sibly obtain in a case of overloading, overworking, or overdriv-
ing, is the evidence of the horse himself, as interpreted by those
present when the cruelty is inflicted.
" Cruelty begins very far short of taking the extreme strength
of the animal. God has given to men and animals an excess of
strength, to be husbanded carefully and used occasionally. But
to task that strength to its full limit unnecessarily is against na-
ture, breaks down the man or the animal before his or its time,
and is a cruelty against which men, having speech and reason,
may protect themselves, but against which animals, having neither
speech nor reason like men., t?iust look to them for protections"^
Extract from Address of Mr. Angell to the
Annual Meeting of "The American Social
Science Association," in New York City,
May 21, 1874.
EASY TO INTEREST CHILDREN.
" It is very easy to enlist the sympathies of children in the
animal world. Take, for instance, the history and habits
of birds : show how wonderfully they are created ; how kind
to their young; how useful to agriculture; what power
they have in flight. The swallow that flies sixty miles an
hour, or the frigate bird which, in the words of Audubon,
* flies with the velocity of a meteor,' and, according to Mi-
chelet, can float at an elevation of ten thousand feet, and
cross the tropical Atlantic Ocean in a single night ; or those
birds of beauty and of song, the oriole, the linnet, the lark,
and, sweetest of all, the nightingale, whose voice caused
one of old to exclaim, 'Lord, what music hast thou pro-
vided for saints in heaven, when thou hast afforded such
music for men on earth ? '
'• Or, take that wonderful beast of the desert, the camel,
which, nourished by its own humps of fat, and carrying its
own reservoirs of water, pursues it toilsome way across
pathless deserts for the comfort and convenience of man.
^^ Is it not easy to carry up the minds and hearts of chil-
dren by thoughts like, these from the creature to the infi-
nitely wise, good, and powerful Creator ?
" I believe there is a great defect in our systems of edu-
cation. I believe that in our public schools it is quite as
possible to develop the heart as the intellect, and that when
this is required and done, we shall not only have higher
protection for dumb creatures, and so increased length of
human life, but also human life better developed and better
worth living. I believe that the future student of Ameri-
can history will v/onder, that in the public schools of a free
government whose very existence depended upon public
integrity and morals, so much attention should have beeyt
paid to the cultivation of the intellect, and so little to the
cultivation of the heart J^
Extract from Address of Mr. Angell before
the " International Congress of Educators,"
at New Orleans, Louisiana, Feb. 26, 1 885.
"The wonderful growth of societies for the prevention
of cruelty to animals is a subject with which probably some
of you are familiar ; how they have stretched out their pro-
tecting arms, not only in this country, but in Europe, Asia,
Africa, and many islands of various oceans, numbering
among their members many of the noblest, best, and most
illustrious of the world's citizens. In England the Royal
Society is under the patronage of the Queen, and its Presi-
dent a member of the Queen's Privy Council.
" The first audience I had the pleasure of addressing
there some years ago was presided over by one of the
most learned men in England, the Lord Bishop of Glouces-
ter and Bristol, and the gentleman who moved the vote of
thanks was Field Marshal Sir John Burgoyne, very near
the head of the British army; the second was at the house
of the Baroness Burdett-Coutts — probably, next to the
Queen, the most highly respected woman in England.
" In France, Germany, and elsewhere, wherever I have
traveled in Europe, I have found the same. One German
society numbers among its members twenty-three generals
and over two hundred officers of the German army.
"In my own State of Massachusetts, I think that no
charitable society of the State has on its roll of officers and
members more distinguished and influential names than
Ae Massachusetts Society for the Prevention of Cnte/fy
to Animals. I think that no society in the State is better
known, or more popular.
" But, in the limited period allotted me, one thing I do
have time to tell you; and that is, that we long ago found
that the great remedy for all these wrongs lies, not in laws
and prosecuting officers, but ^ in the public and private -
schools ; that a thousand cases of cruelty can be prevented
by kind words and humane educ^jtioJi, for every one that
can be prevented by prosecution.^^
Extract from Mr. Angell's Address to the
Annual Meeting of "The National Associ-
ation of Superintendents of Public Schools,"
at Washington, D. C, Feb. 14, 1884.
"Nearly all the criminals of the future, the thieves,
burglars, incendiaries, and murderers, are now in our
public schools, and with them the greater criminals who
commit national crimes. They are in our public schools
now, and we are educating them. We can mould them
now if we will. To illustrate the power of education: We
know that we can make the same boy Protestant, Roman
Catholic, or Mohammedan. It is simply a question of
education. We may put into his little hands, as first
toys, whips, guns, and swords, or may teach him, as the
Quakers do, that war and cruelty are crimes. We may
teach him to shoot the little song-bird in springtime, with
its nest full of young, or we may teach him to feed the
bird and spare its nest. We may go into the schools now
with book, picture, song, and story, and make neglected
boys merciful, or we may let them drift, until, as men,
they become sufficiently lawless and cruel to throw our
railway trains off the track, place dynamite under our
dwelling houses or public buildings, assassinate our Pres-
ident, burn half our city, or involve the nation in civil war.
" Is it not largely., if not wholly., a question of education ?
" I am sometimes asked, ' Why do you spend so much
of your time and money in talking about kindness to ani-
mals, when there is so much cruelty to men > And I
answer, */ am working at the roots.'' Every humane pub-
lication, every lecture, every step, in doing or teaching
kindness to them, is a step to prevent crime — a step in
promoting the growth of those qualities of heart which
will elevate human souls, even in the dens of sin ana
shame, and prepare the way for the coming of peace on
earth and good will to men.
Mr. AngeWs Address {concluded^.
"There are hundreds of thousands of parents among
the depraved and criminal classes of this country whom
no child can be taught to love, or ought to be. There
are hundreds of thousands of homes where the name of
the Almighty is never heard, except in words of blas-
phemy. But there is not a child in one of those homes
that may not be taught in our public schools to feed the
birds and pat the horses, and enjoy making happy all
harmless creatures it meets on the street, and so be doing
acts of kindness forty times a day, which will make it not
only happier, but better, and more merciful in all the rela-
tions of life.
" Standing before you as the advocate of the lower races,
I declare what I believe cannot be gainsaid — that just so
soon and so far as we pour into all our schools the songs,
poems, and literature of mercy towards these lower crea-
tures, just so soofi and so far shall we reach the roots ?iot
only of cruelty but of crime. ^^
Mr. Richards introduced the following, which was
adopted : —
^^ Resolved, That we heartily approve of the ^American
Bands of Mercy^ and welcome their introduction into the
public schools of our country to aid in the moral education
of our people.^''
In the winter of 1885-6, by tmanimous vote of the Boston
School Committee, Mr. Angell addressed the sixty-one
large Normal, Latin, High, and Grammar Schools of Bos-
ton one hour each. In March, 1887, by unanim,07is vote
of the School Co}?i7nittee, he caused about sixty thousand
copies of the Massachusetts Society's humane publica-
tions to be distributed to the pupils of the Boston Public
Schools.
Founders of American Band of Mercy.
GEORGE T. ANGELL and Rev. THOMAS TIMMINS.
Ofl&cers of Parent American Band of Mercy.
George T. Angell, President;
Joseph L. Stevens, Secretary.
Over eighteen thousand branches of the Parent American Band of
Mercy have been formed, with probably over a million
members. They are in every State and
every Territory except Alaska.
PLEDGE.
"I will try to be kind to all harmless living: Creatures,
and try to protect them from eruel usage."
Any Band of Mercy member who wishes can cross out the word harmless.
from his or her pledge. M. S. P. C. A. on our badges mean " Merciful Soci-
ety Prevention of Cruelty to Ally
We send without cost, to every person asking, a copy of " Band
of Mercy " information and other publications.
Also, without cost, to every person who writes that he or she
has formed a '■^ Band of Mercy'''' by obtaining the signatures of
thirty adults or children or both — either signed, or authorized
to be signed-^ to the pledge, also the name chosen for the '■'■ Band,^^
and the name and post-office address [towTi and state] of the Pres-
ident :
I. Our monthly paper, "Our Dumb Animals," full of inter-
esting stories and pictures, ybr one yecir^
American Band of Mercy {concluded').
2 . Copy of Band of Mercy Songs.
3. Twelve Lessons on Kindness to Animals^ containing many
anecdotes.
4. Eight Humane Leaflets, containing pictures and one hun-
dred selected stories and poems.
5. For the President, an imitation gold badge.
The head officers of Juvenile Temperance Associations and
teachers and Sunday-school teachers should be Presidents of
15ands of Mercy.
Nothing is required to be a member, but to sign the pledge or
authorize it to be signed.
Any intelligent boy or girl fourteen years old can form a
Band with no cost, and receive what we offer, as before stated.
To those who wish badges, song and hymn books, cards of
membership, and a membership book for each band, the prices
are, for badges, gold or silver imitation, eight cents; ribbon,
four cents ; song and hymn books, with fifty-two songs and
hymns, two cents ; cards of membership, two cents ; and mem-
bership book, eight cents. The " Twelve Lessons on Kindness
to Animals" cost only two cents for the whole, bound together
in one pamphlet. The Humane Leaflets cost twenty-five cents
a hundred, or eight for five cents.
A Good Order of Exercises for Band of Mercy Meetings.
1. Sing Band of Mercy song or Hymn, and repeat the Pledge together.
[See Melodies.] .
2. Remarks by President, and reading of Report of last Meetmg by Secre-
tary.
3. Readings, Recitations, "Memory Gems," and Anecdotes of good and
noble sayings, and deeds done to both human and dumb creatures, with vocal
and instrumental music.
4. Sing Band of Mercy song or hymn.
5. A brief address. Members may then tell what they have done to make
human and dumb creatures happier and better.
6. Enrollment of new members.
7. Sing Band of Mercy song or hymn.
Everybody, old or young, who wants to do a kind act, to make the
world happier or better, is invited to address, by letter or postali
GEORGE T. ANGELL,
President of the A merican Humane Education Society, the Massachusetts
Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to A nimals, and the Parent
American Band of Mercy, 19 Milk Street, Boston.
OUR DUMB ANIMALS.
Monthly Organ of the American Hiwiane Education
Society and the Massachusetts Society for the
Prevention of Cruelty to Animals.
What the Press say about it. A Few from Hundreds of Recent Kotioes.
1. All who sympathize with kindness will be delighted with a copy of
Giir Dumb Animals. No more entertaining or more useful reading can
be put into the hands of children. The pictures are as good as the
text. — Nezv 2'ork Tribune.
2. Always a welcome guest to our editorial table. — Bangor Daily
Commercial.
3. Attractive sheet — should be in every household. — Atiffusta Age,
4. Illustrated and attractive monthly. — Springfield Republican.
5. Admirable publication. — Burlington Ha-vkeye.
6. A beautiful paper. — Southern Cultivator (Atlanta, Ga.).
7. Its attractive pictures catch the eye, and its short pathetic stories
toucli the hearts of readers, young and old. — Zion's Herald (Boston),
8. Excellent monthly,- always readable, and its anecdotes and stories*
always point a wholesome moral. — Bostoji Times.
9. It is a pleasure to call attention to Our Dumb Aftimals. It is suit--
able for children and adults, the home, and the Sunday-school. — The
Beacon (Boston).
10. Full of entertaining reading. — -Boston Pilot.
11. No journal more cleverly conducted ever pleaded a worthy cause.
— Lyceum (Washington, D. C).
12. Worth five times its price, and should be found in every home. —
West Virginia Argus.
13. Its every page is animated by a loving spirit, which makes it inval-
uable in a family where there are children. — Daily Herald (Norris-
town. Pa.).
14. It should be on every library table. — Germantorvn (Pa.). Gazette.
15. Publication in every way worthy of encouragement. — Baltimore
Nezvs.
16. We advise every parent and teacher to send for it. .We do not
know of any other publication so full of things to keep the hearts of the
young tender towards all that breath. — School Education (St. Paul and
Minneapolis).
17. One of the most interesting exchanges that come to our table. —
Catholic Knight (Cleveland, Ohio).
18. Of all the publications which reach this office, Our Dumb Animals,
of Boston, is the one which inspires the purest and tenderest thoughts. —
The Pui7iam (West Virginia) Democrat.
For p7'ices see last cover.
TEACHERS AND CANVASSERS.
Teachers can have '■'■Cur Diunb Animals''^ one year for
twenty-five cents.
Canvassers can have sample copies free, and retain one half
of every fifty cent subscription. Address,
GEORGE T. ANGELL,
President of the A merican Htmiane Educatio7i Society, the Massach^tsetts
Society for tlie Prevention of Cruelty to A ?iimals, and the Parent
American Band of Mercy, 19 Milk Stkeet, Boston.
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