ration. When ignorance is an excuse for cruelty, you and I and every
woman of the land are wretches if we allow a child to sin because it
knows no better. There is no great study necessary to work out a reform
here. The mother who knows what is right knows how to impress it on her
children; and if they play at death and destruction, she is the person
most to blame.

Don't say that I am writing out one of my popular addresses before the
Society--I never thought of such a thing; but when I saw the great
Natural History Philanthropist, my heart and mind went right back to you
and my duties as a missionary of universal progress, and I sat there in
silence thinking over these things till I forgot that he was there.

At last he spoke, and said, kindly enough, "Is there anything I can help
you in?"

I started and reached out my hand.

"Mr. Bergh," says I, enthusiastically, "I can help you! All the world
over we women work best in the primary department. You have begun a
grand and a noble work among men. We will begin at the other end, and in
that way cut your work down to nothing. I see a clear path before us.
Henceforth I will belong to your Society, and you shall belong to mine.
Is it agreed?"

He sat down by me; his eyes grew bright; his earnestness of purpose
inspired me to press forward to the mark of the prize--I beg pardon, the
old prayer-meeting spirit will manifest itself in spite of me when my
soul is full of a great purpose.

After we had talked on the great subject satisfactorily, he said, all at
once, "But you came for some purpose in which I may have the pleasure of
serving you."

Then I remembered my bird and its imperial object. Revealing my
gold-paper box, I opened it carefully, fearing a sudden flight. Nothing
moved. Trembling with dread, I put in my hand; it touched a soft fluff
of feathers that did not stir.

My heart sank like a lead weight in my bosom. I looked in; the poor
little thing lay in the bottom of the box, with its wings spread out,
and its head lying sideways. I touched it with my hand; it was limp and
dead. While I had been talking with so much feeling about cruelty to
animals, my own little songster--no, being a female she was not
that--but my poor pet had been smothered to death in that gorgeous
little receptacle.

With my heart swelling like a puff-ball, I turned my shoulder on that
good man, and closed my satchel solemnly, as if it had been a tomb.

"Sir," says I, in a voice f