80 
BY THE WAYSIDE. 
BY THE WAYSIDE 
Published on the fifteenth of each month. 
The official organ of the Wiscons'n and Illinois Audu¬ 
bon Societies. 
Twenty=five cents per year. Single copies, three cents. 
All communications should be sent to Mas. G. V\ . 
PECKHAM, 646 Marshall St., Milwaukee, Wis. 
The Wisconsin Audubon Society has suf¬ 
fered a loss in the burning of the Gordon Li¬ 
brary of bird books in the liyan High School 
fire at Appleton. This was a little collection 
cf books given by Mrs. George Gordon, of Mil¬ 
waukee, and in it were represented Mr. Chap¬ 
man, Mrs. Bailey, Mrs. Wright, Mrs. Miller, 
Mr. Lange, Mr. Parker, and others. Its mis¬ 
sion was to travel from school to school, an¬ 
swering the questions of the children cf the 
Society. How beautifully this might be re¬ 
placed if each of a dozen writers on birds 
would contribute one of his or her own books 
with an inscription thereon! 
The last Educational Leaflet of the National 
Committee is written by Mr. Dutcher on the 
snowy heron or egret. After telling the pa¬ 
thetic story of the cruel destruction of this 
bird he says: 
“ ‘Mark how the mother lulls to slumber 
Her new-born babe with tend’rous love 
And miards her treasure from above!’ 
“The word mother is the most sacred of all 
names, and motherhood is the closest of ail 
human ties. Oh, mother! when you nestle 
your little one to your loving breast and look 
into the eyes that reflect the mother-love shin- 
ino- from your own. do vou not sometimes think 
with an involuntary shudder of the sorrow and 
grief it would be were the child to be taken 
from you? Or, still worse, if your tender care 
were to be removed from the helpless infant? 
While this thought is still with you, extend it 
to the bird-mother, for she surely has for her 
offspring the same tender love that you have 
for yours; she has the same affection, the same 
willingness to face danger to protect what is 
to all mothers dearer than life itself. Oh, 
human mother! will you again wear for per¬ 
sonal adornment a plume taken from the dead 
body of a bird-mother, the plume that is the 
emblem of her married life as the golden circlet 
is of vour own. The plume that was takei 
from her bleeding body because her mother 
hood was so strong that she was willing to giv. 
up life itself rather than abandon her helples 
infants! Whenever you are tempted in tin 
future to wear a heron’s plume, think for i 
moment of your own motherhood, and span 
the bird-mother and her little ones.’' 
From Mary Boyle’s Autobiography. 
I was walking with my mother when \* 
were attracted to a small cottage by the ex 
quisite singing of a thrush, which hung in i 
wicker cage outside the door. We stood, list 
ening, and then my mother entered and mad 
acquaintance with the old couple within, ask 
ing would they be willing to part with thi 
thrush to her? At first a blank look cam 
over the old man’s face; but he was poor an 
ailing, and at last a sum was named, tin 
double of which was paid by my mother, win 
sent a servant next morning for the bird. D s 
appointment resulted. The cage was place 
in our drawing-room window, but not a sound 
not a note came from the melancholy thrus! 
who drooped and hung his head as if moulting 
We fed it, we coaxed it; but it remained silent 
My mother was indignant. She had not pres e< 
the old people; she had but asked were the 
willing to sell the bird; she had given the! 
double the sum asked; it looked as if anotlie 
had been palmed off instead of the magnificer. 
songster. 
We gave the thrush several days’ trial, bn 
at length v T e sent for its late owner. Ih 
door opened; in he came, hat in hand. % 
mother rose, armed with some mild rebuke 
But neither could speak, for no sooner did th 
old man appear than the bird leaped clow 
from its perch, spread its wings, and brok 
into so triumphant a song of joy that thi 
whole room vibrated. “What, pretty Speck 
ledy,” said the old man approaching, “vo 
know' me, then, do you?” And the thrush key 
flapping his wings, dancing with joy. It \U 
without a doubt the same bird, but, like th 
Hebrew captives, it would not sing in 
strange land. “Take it back,” said my mothei 
“1 would not part such friends for all th 
world.” 
