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manhood rests on a basis of courage not to sully their manhood by sharing in such cruelty. Boatmen on the Devon and Cornish coasts have been known to refuse to take out these cowardly slaughterers whose only idea of pleasure is to kill and maim, and let me also plead with the women, on the basis of that maternity which is common to them and to the mother-birds, are they not paying too heavy and bloody a price for those feathers? These birds are the property of the nation and ought not to be at the mercy of a few pleasureseekers, or the hired assassins of wholesale millinery factories. S. G. T.

The wearing or selling of birds' feathers, says the Christian World, is made illegal by a new law in the State of Massachusetts. Each offence is punishable by a fine of about £2.

One more plea for the Birds.

(BY MRS. EDWARD PHILLIPS, a Vice-President of the Birds' Protection Society.)

S'

IR JOHN LUBBOCK has ably advocated the extension of education, in which we all heartily concur, but some of us anxiously hope that the educators will not forget what Hiram Powers, the American sculptor, declared to be the great need of his country, and which is the great need of all countries -the education of the heart.

The exact length of a bird's wing, the precise conformation of its beak, and the varieties of each species as shown in the stuffed birds of a museum, will not alone lead up to, much less supply the place of, the loving appreciation of living beauty which comes from watching natural objects, the ways of birds for instance, or, indeed, of any unmolested wild creatures, with a view to their preservation.

I would not seem to speak as if scientific acquirements were incompatible with keenly humane feeling. On the contrary, it is the most learned ornithologists who have most cordially seconded the efforts made by the simple bird-lovers to stay the slaughter of useful and beautiful birds for (so-called) decorative purposes. Professor Newton was one of the earliest supporters of the Society for the Protection of Birds, and to him we still look for counsel and encouragement. The late Lord Lilford was another staunch friend, and some persons present will perhaps remember his indignant denunciation of the "destruction of birds for the disfigurement of women's heads."

Unhappily, few women regard feathers as unbecoming from any point of view, and even the wearing of the whole carcases appears to be again coming into vogue, since the newspapers recently described a popular royal duchess as wearing a Bird of Paradise in her bonnet.

On the other hand, it is said that milliners find that their customers are beginning to be troubled with scruples, and statements are consequently circulated as to the large numbers of artificial aigrettes and other feather decorations prepared from fowls of various kinds killed for food. It has even been asserted that an unlimited supply of cast egret feathers in perfect condition may be had for the picking up on the walls of China !

These statements have been amply refuted by the highest authorities, but I am not aware that any collection of statistics exists calculated to convey an adequate idea of the rate at which some of the fairest species of birds have been, and are now being, destroyed by plume hunters. I have brought with me to-night a crowned Victoria goura pigeon, some humming birds, and other specimens, from an auction of nearly half a million birds held in London on the 13th of last month (April).

The three consignments which I saw as they came from the docks, piled up in huge crates, consisted of :

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A similar sale took place in February, and others were to follow in July and October in the same place. At the auction of April 13th, a Bird of Paradise of good quality sold at 25s., a Victoria crowned pigeon at 5s., humming birds 4d. to 6d. apiece, according to quality. The price realized for the egret plumes I do not know, but it must have been large, as very high payment is required by the hunters on account of the permanent injury to health, resulting from their exposure to malaria in their exterminating work, which has to be carried on further and further afield as the process of devastation extends.

According to the statement of a buyer in the Daily Telegraph, last December, the fibre-fine plume of the egret then stood at £4 10s. an ounce, but had not long before touched £10. In concluding these remarks, which have already been longer than I intended, I ask leave to read an extract from a collection of papers presented to an American Congress on Ornithology, and recently sent to Professor Newton, who has marked the following passages, in which Mr. J. Gilbert Pearson thus describes his own experience in Central Florida :-

I visited a large colony of herons on Horse Hummock on April 27th, 1888. Several hundred pairs were nesting there at the time. Most of them were little blue and snowy herons, with some white egrets, Louisiana herons, and black-crowned night herons. When quite close to the breeding-grounds I climbed a tall gum tree, and being partially screened by the thick foliage, was able, unobserved by the birds, to survey the scene at leisure. The frail nests of twigs were placed in buttonwood bushes and willow trees, in and around a little pond in the hummock. There were but few young; most of the nests contained three to five blue eggs.

Three years later I again visited the heronry

JESUS, alas! is as little understood in doctrine as followed in example. For He has hitherto been like a beautiful figure set to point out a certain way, and people at large have been so entranced with worshipping the figure that they have neglected to follow the direction it indicates.-JULIA WARD HOWE.

THE meek, the disinterested, the unselfish,

at Horse Hummock, found the old gum, and climbed among its branches. But the scene had changed. Not a heron was visible. I discharged my revolver, but the answering echoes and the tapping of a woodpecker were the only response. The call had come from Northern cities for greater quantities of heron plumes for millinery. The plume-hunter had discovered the colony, and a few shattered nests were all that was left to tell of the once

recesses

populous colony. The few surviving tenants, if there were any, had fled in terror to the of wilder swamps. Wearily I descended from the trees to find among the leaves and mould the crumbling bones of slaughtered birds.

A few miles north of Waldo, in the flat pine region, our party came one day upon a little swamp, where we had been told herons breed in numbers. Upon approaching the place the screams of young birds reached our ears. The cause of this soon became apparent by the buzzing of green flies and the heaps of dead and bleeding. The smouldering embers of a camp-fire bore witness to the recent presence of the plume-hunter. Under a bunch of grass a dead heron was discovered, from whose back the plumes had not been torn. The ground was still moist with its blood, showing that death had not long before taken place. The dirt had been beaten smooth with its wings; its neck was arched, the feathers on its head were raised, and its bill was buried in the bloodclotted feathers of its breast, where a gaping wound showed that the leaden missile had struck. It was an awful picture of pain; sorely wounded this heron had crawled away, and after enduring hours of agony had died the victim of a foolish fashion. Young herons had been left by scores in the nests, to perish from exposure and starvation. These little sufferers, too weak to rise, reached their heads over the nest and faintly called for the food which the dead mother could never bring.

It is bad to see such sights from any cause, but when all this is done merely to gratify fashionable women's vanity, it becomes still worse. These are but instances of the destruction of bird-life all over the State. Unless something is done to stop this awful slaughter, it is only a question of a few years before the herons, not only of Florida, but of the whole South, will be exterminated.

Women who know of the cruelty necessary to procure the feathers they wear on their hats should stop wearing them, and exert their influence to make other women see how cruel and wicked they are.

May God's blessing rest with all who strive against this sin!

those who think little of themselves and much of others; who think of the public good, and not of their own; who rejoice in good done, not by themselves, but by others, by those whom they dislike as well as by those whom they love-these shall gain far more than they lose: they_shall "inherit the earth" and its fullness.-DEAN STANLEY.

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St. Jean's Day in Brittany.

A SHOCKING STORY.

CORRESPONDENT writes from

Brittany:

"Who will believe that in this year of grace, 1897, there still exists in a remote village of Brittany the abominable custom which a lover of unexplored nature and ignored corners witnessed on St. Jean's Day thus describes? He arrived towards evening, and had chosen for his residence the inn on the village green, and, after a frugal supper, consisting of potatoes boiled in milk, an omelet, and half-a-dozen of those lovely fresh onions which one can indulge in when away from one's family and friends, he went up to his room and sat at the window admiring the curious shaped roofs and the intensely picturesque aspect of the houses.

"Something, however, astonished him. It was a huge pile just in the middle of the green, and he could not help thinking that, perhaps, the widows of Kalgouët preferred immolation, so as to join sooner their beloved departed, and that he might see that sad spectacle. Suddenly, and as if in answer to his thoughts, a low long wail seemed to come from the top of the wood. Then a procession turned the corner, and a priest in white, chanting, followed by his acolytes, appeared. Behind him a dozen men, probably the big nobs of the place, in knee breeches and wide

A

felt hats were walking slowly, two by two, and after them came the whole population of the village-men, women, and children.

"The singing stopped, the acute sound of a trumpet filled the air, and four men advanced bearing candles and set fire to the heap of dry faggots, which in an instant were ablaze, lighting the place and the top of the pile, where, to the traveller's horror and indignation, he could now distinguish a large open-work basket in which a dozen cats, scared, terrified, and with red glaring eyes, were scratching one another and jumping about like mad. The visitor ran down indignant, but he was simply told that it was the St. Jean, and that the cats were there to play the parts of sinners in hell, a sight in which the good Apostle was sure to find plea

sure.

'In older days,' added the Breton, with a gesture of horror, 'they used to keep for the St. Jean six criminals and burn them.” But nowadays, you understand, Monsieur, this would not do. Happily, we are more humane!'

"And next year, my good people,' thought the traveller, 'on the St. Jean you will see a few members of the Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals, and then we shall see.'"-(From Modern Society, London, July 10th, 1897.)

Broken Threads.

LONE among London dailies the Chronicle has called attention to the double thonging administered to vivisectors by Mr. Compton Reade in his amusing and humorous novel "Broken Threads." The character of Carnifex, M.B., may be the reductio ad absurdum of experimental physiology, but no one acquainted with the arcana of the torture trough can term it impossible. Lord Tennyson aphorized "The highest is the measure of the man," and it is not unfair to draw as a corollary the utter depravation of the dehumanized among the species. Mr. Compton Reade has depicted in glaring colours the moral results of indulgence in systematic cruelty. He terms it a lust, and shows how its votary descends below the level of mere pessimism, arriving at a condition of moral anarchy. But to appreciate the author he must be quoted. "Upon my honour," said George, addressing Carnifex, "you'll make me think that science is the devil! The greatest compliment you could pay it. The cult of the good has been pursued ad nauseam. It is being slowly but surely replaced by the cult of the other thing. Anarchy may be clumsy and unscientific, but it expresses the idea. We want to get rid of the old and blind superstition concerning right and wrong, etc., etc." Again Carnifex loq.: "What you term horror, i.e. of the torture trough, is in fact the rarest of luxuries. Can't you imagine the great Schiff's emotions when he describes the keenly pleasurable anticipation of causing the intensest torture to a sentient creature? Some day we shall enjoy the

agony of vivisected criminals; but for that public opinion is not yet ripe. The Christian superstition blocks the way." We thank Mr. Compton Reade. Fiction, so long as its basis is fact, offers the strongest medicine for bringing home truths to the popular intelligence. The late Wilkie Collins in "I say, No! Miss Marie Corelli in the "Mighty Atom," and now Mr. Compton Reade in "Broken Threads," have utilized their art to accuse the conscience of the many. That the public conscience requires a constant stimulus is evident, alike because of the somnolent indifference which has given vivisection a free hand, and not less because the reform of slaughter-houses seems as remote as ever. We trust that those who have the good cause, for which we have laboured so long, at heart will lend a cordial support to all fellow labourers, and particularly to those prepared to hazard hostile criticism for the sake of humanity and mercy. The outspoken honesty of "Broken Threads" has involved its author in an avalanche of sneers; nevertheless he has written a dramatic story in dramatic form, and with dramatic effect. The Chronicle compares it to the earlier works of Charles Keade, and not without justice, for the nephew wields his uncle's pen, and both have proved themselves exemplars of the noble maxim of the late poet laureate: "Wherefore if right be right, to follow right were wisdom and the scorn of consequence!" " Broken Threads" should lie on the drawing-room table of every member of the Victoria Street and International Anti-Vivisection Society.

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God Save the Sparrow.

(From the "Daily Chronicle," London, August, 1897.)

"THE Sparrow question' is one of very great interest to all agriculturists. The impudent and amusing little brown bird has had nu merous friends and more enemies. But its fate is sealed, we fancy, by a pamphlet which Miss Ormerod, the distinguished lady to whom we have been indebted for many years for the most scientific information about ornithology on birds of all kinds, has published.

"This writer has observed and dissected sparrows for many years, and has collected all the information in her power; and the result of it is a sentence of death. Sparrows, it is decided, drive off many birds, such as swallows and martins, which are wholly insectivorous; the food even of young sparrows is only half composed of insects, while as for adult sparrows, insects hardly enter into their menu at all-that is, they feed on seeds and small vegetable matter of all kinds.

As regards legal action on the subject, the Ornithologist of the United States Board of Agriculture has recommended the enactment of laws making it penal to shelter or harbour the sparrow; and the Canadian Minister of Agriculture has declared that "every one was at liberty to aid in reducing its numbers." The pamphlet in question concludes as follows: Reasoning on the same grounds as to procedure in this country, we believe that similar action is, without any reasonable cause for doubt, called for here. The amount of the national loss, by reason of

ravaged crops and serviceable birds driven away, may be estimated, without fear of exaggeration, at from one to two millions a year."

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To the Editor of the "ANIMALS' FRIEND." SIR, I enclose a copy of a letter I have written through seeing the notes above in the Daily Chronicle. It is simply terrible that the whole race of helpless sparrows should be surrendered to the ruffianly "mercies" of the average rustic. The utilitarianism (to call it by its deserved name the savage selfishness) of this age is becoming hideous. Every vestige of gentleness, chivalry to the weak and defenceless, whether of our own race or of the "lower of the "lower" types-often the vastly higher and nobler types !-of creation seems vanishing under the withering blight of self-interest. Will you not help in this protest? I am, yours in all earnest sympathy, I. E. WALKER. Hilcot-Battledown, Cheltenham, August 10th, 1897.

[COPY.]

MADAM, It is with infinite regret that I see a lady's name quoted in the Daily Chronicle, as giving "the sentence of death to the very bird of which the gentle voice of the Son of God said, "not one of them is forgotten before God," as also "one of them shall not fall on the ground without your Father." Surely as having the compassionate heart of woman, unsteeled (I hope) by your scientific studies, you will feel a throb of agony whenever you hear those allsacred words, and know that your verdict has been taken as a wholesale sentence of extermination (and how terribly often in any brutal fashion by the rudest hands!) upon these birds, which "the Father" cares for. I cannot envy you your science or your reflections. I am, Madam, yours in much regret and pain, I. E. WALKER, M.A., Oxon.

[Our readers will be glad to know that our valued contributor, Miss Edith Carrington, one of the best informed naturalists we have, has prepared a reply to this pamphlet, which may be had on application, with postage stamp, to the Hon. Secretary, Humanitarian League, 53, Chancery Lane, London, W.C. To hound on the most ignorant section of the community to a war of extermination is both cruel and cowardly. Will not our friends make their houses and gardens a sanctuary for the sparrow ?-ED., A. F.]

The Ghildren's Page.

MY DEAR LITTLE COUSINS,

OU, I dare say, will wonder why the pretty, gentle-looking creature in the picture has that ugly ring in his nose to spoil his look? And I dare say that you often wonder, too, why people put a nasty, cruel muzzle on a dog, to worry as well as disfigure him. There are many other animals that I could name who have to suffer cruel things because foolish and unkind people choose to govern them by fear and not by love, and others who are so silly as to FEEL AFRAID OF ANIMALS, because they do not know that tame creatures are never dangerous unless MADE SAVAGE BY ABUSE. in Africa the ox is better used by the tribes of black men, called Hottentots, than he is here. There he lives in the same cottage with his master, is more clever than any horse, and almost as affectionate and sensible as a dog.

Far away

If the black man has a flock of sheep, his ox, which is called a backeley, helps him to tend them as if he were a big sheep-dog. He will graze beside them while they graze, and if any of them stray he will bring them back, almost flying round the field at a sign or even a look from his master. And he defends the sheep from wild beasts too.

Though the African tame ox loves his master and his family very dearly, he does not like strangers, and will attack anybody who comes to rob the cottage. So, you see, he does duty as a sheep-dog and as a house-dog as well. When his dear backely dies, the Hottentot master is very sorry, and gets another, a young one, in his place.

But who teaches the new baby backely to be gentle, kind to the sheep, good to his master's children, and a careful defender of the hut?

He is put under the care of some old, steady backely, from whom he soon learns. to be as faithful as the dead one was. When the Hottentots go out to war their

backelies go too! They march in front of the men, and rushing forward, overturn all before them, striking with their horns and trampling with their feet. In this way they often gain a victory for their masters, and put the enemy to flight before the men strike a single blow.

You may be sure that these fine fellows wear no rings in their noses! Their masters treat them more wisely than to drag them along by ropes, tie them up, or ill-use them in any way. The nature of the ox or bull is the same in England as in Africa, but the men who manage animals in this land are not so wise as the black men. We have not learnt yet, in England, that though the bull is very strong, he may be ruled without cruelty.

In lands where there are tigers and other wild beasts the bull fights for his wife, and a herd of buffalo bulls have been known to kill a tiger which sprung upon their master. Once in India a fierce beast called

a jaguar came to attack a cow. The bull, her mate, was feeding close by, and he came running up to defend her. There was a long battle, but the brave bull could not kill or drive him off, because, as the conduct of this bull was rather rough, his horns had been blunted by putting little knobs at the tips, to keep him from doing mischief.

He was sadly wounded himself, and could not save his wife; she lay dead on the ground. The owners of the cow and bull came up; they dressed his wounds, took the knobs from his horns, and left him. They knew that at night the jaguar would come creeping back to eat his prey. The bull did not leave the spot. He lingered near, and at last he saw the jaguar coming. In a moment he rushed at him, and, now that his horns were pointed, soon laid him dead by the side of the cow. is easy to see that the horns of bulls and cows were given for a good reason; they were not meant for tossing little boys and girls, nor would the creatures do us any harm if they were always well treated and never provoked. I must tell you of a funny trick which a bull used to play, and which for a long while puzzled everybody.

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It

He was always found inside a little meadow, which was railed in on all sides, that its rich grass might be kept for hay. He must have spied out that this field had better food in it than the others, but how did he get in?

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