The Snowy Egret 



the world battle is not 

 yet won. Paris, who 

 cares not where she gets 

 her finery, is still to be 

 reckoned with. Un- 

 humbled by her awful 

 lessons of adversity, she 

 still incites her demi- 

 monde to flaunt its bor- 

 rowed feathers before 

 the dazzled eyes alike of 

 sober dames and silly 

 debutantes, who might 

 better be at home exer- 

 cising their ingenuity in 

 the construction of hats 

 and gowns which should 

 really express their own 

 individuality. Better a 

 thousand times a bonnet 

 made in America than 

 a gaudy creation from 

 Paris whose ornaments 

 are eloquent of plun- 

 dered wildernesses and 

 blood and crime. 



But the Snowy Her- 

 on, vision of loveliness, 

 garbed as purely as an 

 angel, tenderest victim 

 ever sought out by the 

 high priests of fashion — 

 our Snowy Heron is 

 coming back. Of the 

 herons in the eastern 

 Southland, we get most 

 encouraging reports. 



Reduced at one time by the ravages of the plume-hunters to the verge of 

 supposed extinction, they have shown under the protective measures of 

 the Audubon Societies, halting and handicapped as they were at first, 

 notable recuperative power. Now a score are reported from some point 

 in Florida, nesting with Louisianas and Squawks and Little Blues; now a 



Taken in Merced County 



Photo by the Author 



A PASSING ANGEL 



igOJ 



