"Why," said she, "they call that kind of a woman a
crank--whatever that is."

It was very evident that this god Fashion was a cruel tyrant, and it
was clearly through his influence that we were killed, and I so told my
mother. She looked very sorrowful as she replied:

"Yes, the women do not hate us. They do not dislike to hear our pretty
songs; they have no revenge to gratify; but the god orders them to have
us killed, and they do it. He tells them that to wear our poor
mutilated dead bodies will add to their appearance, and so we are
sacrificed on the altar of their vanity and silly pride. As members of
humane societies women have denounced the docking of horses' tails as
cruel, but from what I know of woman's indifference to the sufferings
of the innocent birds, I venture to assert that were Fashion to say
that she should trim her cloak with horse tails there would not be left
an undocked horse in the country."

I knew my mother was very excited or she would never have been so
vehement.

"Just hear how those birds twitter," remarked one of the ladies,
looking up into our tree. "One would think they were holding an
indignation meeting over something."

"Yes, the dear little things; I love to hear them chirp," commented
Miss Katie, turning a sweet glance toward us, and then the party moved
to go and we saw the six hats loaded with their mournful freight file
off to the house. We followed the retreating hats with sad eyes till
they were lost to view.

My brother broke the silence by asking, "Are there any Christian women
who wear birds, and are among the god's worshipers?"

My mother's manner grew very grave and solemn. "That is not for me to
say," she replied. "They know whether they are guiltless of our
wholesale slaughter, and they know too, how the gentle, merciful Christ
regarded us when he declared that 'not a sparrow is forgotten before
God.'"

CHAPTER IV

DICKEY'S COUSINS

Another of my airy creatures breathes such sweet music out of her
little instrumental throat that it might make mankind to think that
miracles are not ceased. We might well be lifted up above the earth
and say, Lord, what music hast thou provided for the saints in heaven,
when thou affordest bad men such music on earth?--_Izaak Walton._

The fine pasture adjoining was a popular resort for some handsome birds
that often visited it as a playground. They were said to be relatives
of ours, but I do not think they w