"You must not forget, friend Jack," says the Deacon, "to give the boys and girls, especially the girls, my May-time sermon about the Audubon Society."
Forget it? Not I, indeed! Nor would you, if you could have seen the honest and hearty indignation of the good Deacon and the Little School-ma'am, as he read to her a printed circular telling all about the monstrous wrong which the Audubon Society has nobly begun to fight. You must know, dear girls, that this "monstrous wrong" is the custom of wearing feathers and skins of birds on your hats and dresses. As I am an honest Jack, I don't see how girls and their mammas, who, as everybody knows, are supposed to have hearts more tender than men or boys, could ever have been induced to follow so abominable a fashion. "Abominable" is rather a strong word, I suppose; but it is the very one which the good Deacon used when he read the printed slip. And the Little School-ma'am—bless her!—actually gave a nod of satisfaction when she heard it. As for me, no word would be too strong to express my feelings on the subject.
But I'll be content now with giving you what the Deacon calls "two plain facts" about this fashion, and letting them speak for themselves. "You must know then," says the Deacon, "that a single collector of ornamental feathers in this country has declared that he handles every year about thirty thousand bird-skins, almost all of which are used for millinery purposes; and that another man collected from the shooters in one small district within four months, about seventy thousand birds!
"Now, Jack," adds the Deacon, "tell your young hearers to ask themselves and their parents, whether this slaughter shall continue? The Audubon Society says 'no!' Its membership is free to every one who is willing to lend a helping hand to its objects. And its objects are to prevent as far as possible, first, the killing of any wild birds not used for food; second, the destruction of nests or eggs of wild birds; and third, the wearing of feathers as ornaments or trimmings for dress. And certainly women and girls can do much, in fact everything, for this third object."
All the older readers of St. Nicholas will remember the army of bird-defenders which it established years ago. The Deacon says that there is a call for a new army, and all that you need do to join it, my girls, is to refuse to wear feathers on your hats or dresses. If all the women and girls who now follow that cruel fashion would but abandon it, the needless slaughter of the birds would soon be at an end.
ABOUT LITTLE LORD FAUNTLEROY.
"Felixstow," Brightwood (near Washington).
Dear Jack-in-the-Pulpit: I am a little boy just six years old. I live in the country about six miles from Washington. I am very much interested in reading "Little Lord Fauntleroy," because Mrs. Burnett, the lady who wrote it, was out at our house last spring, and told us the story, and I want to see if she changed it before she put it in the book. I tell you, her own little boys, Lionel and Vivian, are nice fellows to play with! I have a nice pony named Joe, lots of chickens, a dog, and two cats, but I like digging in the ground most. I raised a lot of pop-corn last year. Somebody is writing this for me, but I am telling him what to write. My little brother Paul bothers me considerably when I want to make things.
Good bye, dear Jack; you are a nice fellow. Your friend,
Felix Renouf Holt.