the muffs. Oh, I tell you, women are heaping
up judgment on themselves."

The other lady looked grave. "I understand," said she, "that in many
places down on the New Jersey coast the boatmen have given up fishing,
as they can make so much more money killing terns and gulls for women's
use. They earn fifty dollars a week at it, at ten cents apiece for the
birds. Isn't that a horrible record for women?"

"I don't doubt they earn that much, and perhaps more," answered Mrs.
Brown; "for one season there were thirty thousand terns killed in one
locality alone. And at Cape Cod, and up along the shore near where I
lived, they are slain by thousands every season and shipped to New
York. Oh, I can't tell you how distressing it used to be to hear the
report of the guns day after day and know that every piercing sound was
the sign that more innocent lives were being taken. I used to cover up
my ears and try not to hear them. It made me shiver to know that those
poor gulls were being shot down for nothing. Their only crime
consisted in being beautiful."

Both women turned at that moment attracted by the sight of a young lady
who was standing on the pavement outside in an animated talk with
another girl.

"There's Miss Van Dyke, with her new feather collar on," observed Mrs.
Brown, in a low voice.

The young lady in question was a dashing, radiant creature, bright with
smiles and a face like a picture. On her shapely shoulders was a
magnificent cape, lustrous as satin, of silvery white, into which pale
dark lines softly blended at regular intervals. Twenty-two innocent
lives had been taken to make that little garment. Twenty-two beautiful
grebes slain that their glossy breasts might lend splendor to a lady's
wardrobe.

The two friends looked at Miss Van Dyke in silence for a moment, then
sighed as she passed along out of their view.

"When I see such perversion of woman's nature I wonder that the very
stones do not cry out against us," exclaimed Mrs. Brown. "And mark my
words, the slaughter will go on; the unholy traffic will not long be
confined to grebe's breasts for muffs and cape trimmings. Other birds
will be used. The gentle creatures are not all put on hats."

"Oh! I must not forget to tell you that the new preacher over at the
Second Church has begun a course of lectures on the work of mercy that
women might do. He says that as mothers in the homes, and as teachers
in the public schools and the Sabb