THE FEATHER CRUSADE. 



E. K. M. 



JUST as the Audubon societies and 

 the appeals of humanitarians in 

 general have had some effect in 

 lessening the demand for the 

 aigrette for millinery purposes, and 

 their banishment, as officially an- 

 nounced, from the helmets of the Brit- 

 ish army, there springs up a new fash- 

 ion which, if generally adopted, will 

 prove very discouraging — especially to 

 the birds. 



"She made a decided sensation last 

 evening at the opera," says Miss Vani- 

 ty's fond mamma. "Those blackbirds 

 with outspread wings at either side of 

 her head were simply fetching. They 

 drew every lorgnette and every eye in 

 the house upon her. Not a woman of 

 fashion, or otherwise, I venture to say, 

 will appear at a public function here- 

 after without a pair of stuffed birds in 

 her hair." 



A melancholy outlook truly, though 

 as an onlooker expressed it, the effect 

 of the spreading wings was vastly more 

 grotesque than beautiful. The poor 

 little blackbirds! Their destruction 

 goes on without abatement. 



"I like the hat," said a gentle-looking 

 little lady in a fashionable millinery 

 establishment the other day, "but," 

 removing it from her head, "those 

 blackbirds must be removed and flow- 

 ers put in their place." 



"A member of the Audubon Society, 

 probably," queried the attendant, re- 

 spectfully. 



"No," was the answer, "but for years 

 the birds have been welcome visitors at 

 our country place, great flocks of black- 

 birds, especially, making their homes in 

 our trees. This year, and indeed the 

 last, but few appeared, and we have in 

 consequence no love for the hunters 

 and little respect for the women who. 

 for vanity's sake, make their slaughter 

 one of commercial necessity and greed." 



'Tis said fashion is proof against the 

 appeals of common sense or morality, 

 and one must accept the statement as 

 true when, in spite of all that has been 

 said upon the subject, the Paris journals 

 announce that "birds are to be worn 



more than ever and blouses made en- 

 tirely of feathers are coming into fash- 

 ion." The use of bird skins in Paris for 

 one week represent the destruction of 

 one million three hundred thousand 

 birds; in London the daily importation 

 ranges from three hundred to four hun- 

 dred thousand. It is honestly asserted 

 that, in the height of the season, fifty 

 thousand bird skins are received in 

 New York City daily. 



At the annual meeting of the Audu- 

 bon Society of New York state a letter 

 was read from Governor Roosevelt in 

 which he said that he fully sympathized 

 with the purpose of the society and 

 that he could not understand how any 

 man or woman could fail to exert all 

 influence in support of its object. 



"When I hear of the destruction of a 

 species," he added, "I feel just as if all 

 the works of some great writer had per- 

 ished; as if one had lost all instead of 

 only a part of Polybius or Livy." 



Rev. Dr. Henry Van Dyke sent a 

 letter in which he said the sight of an 

 aigrette filled him with a feeling of in- 

 dignation, and that the skin of a dead 

 songbird stuck on the head of a tune- 

 less woman made him hate the barbar- 

 ism which lingers in our so-called civ- 

 ilization. Mr. Frank M. Chapman, at 

 the same meeting, stated that the wide- 

 spread use of the quills of the brown 

 pelican for hat trimming was fast bring- 

 ing about the extinction of that species. 



In front of my pew sits a maiden — 

 A little brown wing in her hat/ 



With its touches of tropical azure. 

 And the sheen of the sun upon that. 



Through the bloom-colored pane shines a 

 glory 



By which the vast shadows are stirred. 

 But I pine for the spirit and splendor 



That painted the wing of that bird. 



The organ rolls down its great anthem, 

 With the soul of a song it is blent, 



But for me, I am sick for the singing 

 Of one little song that is spent. 



The voice of the curate is gentle: 



" No sparrow shall fall to the ground;" 



But the poor broken wing on the bonnet 

 Is mocking the merciful sound. 



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