WOMAN'S HEARTLESSNESS, 



WHEN the Audubon Society was first 

 organized, it seemed a compara- 

 tively simple thing to awaken in the minds 

 of all bird-wearing women a sense of what 

 their "decoration" involved. We flattered 

 ourselves that the tender and compassionate 

 heart of woman would at once respond to 

 the appeal for mercy, but after many months 

 of effort we are obliged to acknowledge our- 

 selves mistaken in our estimate of that uni- 

 versal compassion, that tender heart in 

 which we believed. Not among the ignor- 

 ant and uncultured so much as the educated 

 and enlightened do we find the indifference 

 and hardness that baffles and perplexes us. 

 Not always, heaven be praised ! but too 

 often — I think I may say in two-thirds of 

 the cases to which we appeal. One lady 

 said to me, "I think there is a great deal of 

 sentiment wasted on the birds. There are 

 so many of them, they never will be missed, 

 any more than mosquitoes ! I shall put 

 birds on my new bonnet." This was a fond 

 and devoted mother, a cultivated and ac- 

 complished woman. It seemed a desperate 

 case indeed, but still I strove with it. " Why 

 do you give yourself so much trouble ?" she 

 asked. " They will soon go out of fashion 

 and there will be an end of it." "That 

 may be," I replied, "but fashion next year 

 may order them back again, and how many 

 women will have human feeling enough to 

 refuse to wear them ?" It was merely waste 

 of breath, however, and she went her way, a 

 charnel house of beaks and claws and bones 

 and feathers and glass eyes upon her fatu- 

 ous head. Another, mocking, says, "Why 

 don't you try to save the little fishes in the 

 sea?" and continues to walk the world with 

 dozens of warblers' wings making her 

 headgear hideous. Not one in fifty is 

 found willing to remove at once the birds 

 from her head, even if languidly she does 

 acquiesce in the assertion that it is a cruel 



sin against nature to destroy them. "When 

 these are worn out I am willing to promise 

 not to buy any more," is what we hear, and 

 we are thankful indeed for even so much 

 grace; but, alas ! birds never "wear out." 

 And as their wearer does not carry a placard 

 stating their history, that they were bought 

 last year or perhaps given to her, and she 

 does not intend to buy more, her economy 

 goes on setting the bad example, or it may 

 be her indolence is to blame — one is as fatal 

 as the other. Occasionally, but too rarely, 

 we meet a fine spirit, the fire of whose gen- 

 erous impulse consumes at once all selfish 

 considerations, who recognizes the import- 

 ance of her own responsibility, and whose 

 action is swift as her thought to pluck out 

 the murderous sign, and go forth free from 

 its dishonor. And how refreshing is the 

 sight of the birdless bonnet ! The face 

 beneath, no matter how plain it may be, 

 seems to possess a gentle charm. She 

 might have had birds, this woman, for they 

 are cheap enough and plentiful enough, 

 heaven knows ! But she has them not, 

 therefore she must wear within things in- 

 finitely precious, namely, good sense, good 

 taste, good feeling. Heaven bless every 

 woman who dares turn her back on Fash- 

 ion and go about thus beautifully adorned ! 

 In one of the most widely circulated news- 

 papers the fashionable news from Paris 

 begins : "Birds are worn more than ever." 

 Birds "are worn!" Pitiful phrase! Sen- 

 tence of deadly significance ! " Birds are 

 worn " — as if that were final, as if all women 

 must follow one another like a flock of 

 sheep over a wall, and forget reason, forget 

 the human heart within, forget everything 

 but the empty pride of being " in the fash- 

 ion." Ah me, my fire-flecked oriole, watch- 

 ing your airy cradle from the friendly elm 

 bough swinging, go get yourself an inky 

 coat. Your beauty makes you but a target 



