“I guess that held him for a while!” said the boy named Billy, saluting. The Sea-gull Monument “What are you reading, Billy Boy, all alone to yourself?” asked Somebody one evening after supper. “Story about an old grey and white sea-gull that got mixed up with some crude oil which a ship had thrown out, and got his feathers so covered with it that he could neither swim nor fly,” answered the boy named Billy, “and how some children fed him and took care of him until he got a new coat of feathers; he was sure in a bad fix, only for their kindness.” “I was reading in a book about birds the other day,” said Big Sister, “that the gull is a protected bird, but it did not state why. I suppose on account of its beauty, isn’t it?” “Not entirely,” said Somebody. “They are splendid scavengers, and are protected on that account--your friend the gull who got into trouble, Billy, was very likely following the vessel for the things thrown out from the kitchen--but outside of that they ought to be protected on account of their grace and beauty and the life and movement that they give to the upper air. They are, as far as I know, the only birds in the world to have a monument erected to them, and not a small one either but a great shaft of granite.” “Oh, say, Somebody,” said the boy named Billy, “you’re so much better than any story book--what about these wonderful birds?” “It was like this,” said Somebody. “When the Mormons went all the way across the sands of the desert, to improve the land on the shores of the Great Salt Lake in Utah, they met with many hardships and discouragements. After two years, when they had succeeded in getting water on the land, had planted things that were growing beautifully, and even had fields of waving grain which they were looking forward to harvesting, young fruit orchards started and vegetables growing, it seemed like a dream come true.” “I’ll say so,” said the boy named Billy. “Well, then,” said Somebody, “just as they had all those things and were as happy as could be, waiting for harvest time, and working at building more homes, along came a plague of black crickets, and began to devour every growing thing in sight. The crickets ate anything and everything. When the fields no longer looked promising they began on the clothing and bedding. It was impossible to hang out the family washing, because a drove of these hungry crickets would swoop down on it and leave a trail of gnawed holes. “The people fought the pests with every weapon they had, but it did no good, and they had to simply stand by and see everything eaten and destroyed. “When everything they knew of had been done, there was sent out a call for the people to come into the middle of town for prayer that the scourge might be lifted.