IN a recent issue of the New York Evening Post, Caroline H. Dall writes interestingly on this subject as follows:

"I wish to draw the attention of such of your readers as are interested in the discussion of the nature of instinct, to a curious example of it, as distinct from reason, which I have lately witnessed.

"Entering the parlor of a friend the other day, my attention was instantly attracted to a Florida Mockingbird. He was flying about in an eager manner, with something like a long black straw in his bill. My friend entering, I asked: 'What is your bird doing?' 'Building a nest,' she answered. 'Has he a mate?' 'No, he has never had one,' she replied, 'nor has he ever seen a nest. That black straw is a shaving of whalebone which lasts him better than anything else.' At this moment the bird flew into a corner of the cage, and, stooping, dropped the whalebone, waited a moment as if for some response, and then flew away to repeat the manoevre.

"'Does he not want something soft?' I asked. 'I sometimes give him yarn or wool; he tears it all up, works it all over, and then carries it to that corner. He evidently thinks it his duty to provide material, but he does not undertake to use it.' 'And what will he do next?' I asked. 'He will, after a day or two, brood over that corner, sitting close and spreading his wings out as broadly as possible. He does this two or three times a day.' 'And after that?' 'Later the paternal instinct seems to be aroused in a different way. He goes to his food cup, takes some food in his mouth, and drops it into his corner. He repeats this several times, as if he were feeding his young. I do not know how many young birds he ought to expect, but I should like to know, to see if he counts right!'

"I have sometimes known a male canary to build a nest in the spring, carrying the process nearer to completion, but I have never heard of an instance like this, and think it may interest others than myself."

In spite of all the efforts that have been made in the interests of common sense and common humanity, there appears to be no doubt that the savage and indiscriminate slaughter of all birds of bright plumage is still going on for the gratification of feminine vanity. Indeed, the position of the unfortunate birds possessing the fatal gift of beauty seems to be worse than ever. There was sold the other day in London a consignment of nearly half a million birds, or parts of birds, as follows: Osprey plumes, 11,352 ounces; Vulture plumes, 186 pounds; Peacock feathers, 215,051 bundles; Birds of Paradise, 2,362 bundles; Indian Parrots, 228,289 bundles; Bronze Pigeons, including the Goura, 1,677 bundles; Tanagers and sundry birds, 38,198 bundles; Humming birds, 116,490 bundles; Jays and Kingfishers, 48,759 bundles; Impeyan and other jungle fowl, 4,952 bundles; Owls and Hawks, 7,163 bundles. In one of the most widely circulated English papers the fashionable news from Paris begins: "Birds are worn more than ever, and blouses made entirely of feathers are coming into fashion." "Rare tropical feathers," ordered by specialists from abroad, are specified as those most likely to be in demand, but no bird of any kind is safe that has a feather capable of being used for feminine decoration.