"You see now who are our worst enemies," said she. "The cat preys on
us to satisfy his bodily hunger, but women have no such excuse. We are
not slaughtered to sustain their lives but to minister to their vanity.
For years the women of Christian lands have waged their unholy war
against us. We have been driven from our old haunts and forced to seek
new places. We have been shot down by thousands every season until now
many species are destroyed from the face of the earth. There is no
security for us in any place. The hunter with his gun penetrates into
the deepest forests, he perils his life in scaling the most dangerous
cliffs, he wades through bog and marsh and mud and tracks us to our
feeding grounds to surprise us with the deadly shot, and kills the
mother hovering over the nest of her helpless offspring with as little
compunction as if she were a poisonous reptile instead of a melodious
joy-giver. And all this horrible slaughter is for women."

I grew feverish with excitement at this terrible arraignment of the
"gentler sex."

"But why are they so cruel? Why do they do this wicked thing?" I asked.

"For the sake of Fashion," said my mother.

"Fashion, what is that?"

My mother was very patient with me, so when I asked questions she did
not put me off by telling me she didn't know, or advise me to fly away
and play, or tell me she was busy and couldn't be bothered just then,
therefore she now took pains to make me understand.

"You ask me what is Fashion," she began. "Well, Fashion is an exacting