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.