niche ! Think of this a little, as if 

 you heard of it for the first time. 



But nesting-time with the birds is 

 one of sentiment as well as of industry. 

 The amount of affectation in love- 

 making they are capable of is simply 

 ludicrous. The British Sparrow 

 which, like the poor, we have with us 

 always, is a much more interesting 

 bird in this and other respects than we 

 commonly give him credit for. It is 

 because we see him every day, at the 

 back door, under the eaves, in the 

 street, in the parks, that we are indif- 



ferent to him. Were he of brighter 

 plumage, brilliant as the Bobolink or 

 the Oriole, he would be a welcome, 

 though a perpetual, guest, and we 

 would not, perhaps, seek legislative 

 action for his extermination. If he 

 did not drive away Bluebirds, whose 

 nesting-time and nesting-place are 

 quite the same as his own, we might 

 not discourage his nesting proclivity, 

 although we cannot help recognizing 

 his cheerful chirp with generous 

 crumbs when the snow has covered all 

 the earth and left him desolate. 



C. C. Marble. 



NATIONAL COUNCIL OF WOMEN. 



EXTRACT FROM THE REPORT OF THE COMMITTEE ON DRESS, BY ITS CHAIRMAN, 



MRS. FRANK JOHNSON. 



Birds, Wings and Feathers Employed as Garniture. 

 From the school-room there should certainly emanate a sentiment which 

 would discourage forever the slaughter of birds for ornament. 



The use of birds and their plumage is as inartistic as it is cruel and barbarous. 



The Halo. 

 "One London dealer in birds received, when the fashion was at its height, a 

 single consignment of thirty-two thousand dead humming birds, and another 

 received at one time, thirty thousand aquatic birds and three hundred thousand 

 pairs of wings." 



Think what a price to pay, 

 Faces so bright and gay, 

 Just for a hat ! 

 Flowers unvisited, mornings unsung, 

 Sea-ranges bare of the wings that o'erswung — 

 Bared just for that ! 



Think of the others, too, 

 Others and mothers, too, 

 Bright- Eyes in hat ! 

 Hear you no mother-groan floating in air, 

 Hear you no little moan — birdling's despair — 

 Somewhere for that ? 



Caught 'mid some mother- work, 

 Torn by a hunter Turk, 

 Just for your hat ! 

 Plenty of mother-heart yet in the world : 

 All the more wings to tear, carefully twirled ! 

 Women want that? 



Oh, but the shame of it, 

 Oh, but the blame of it, 

 Price of a hat ! 

 Just for a jauntiness brightening the street ! 

 This is your halo — O faces so sweet — 



Death, and for that!— W. C. Gannett. 



150 



