is for owl feathers as garniture for gowns as well as hats. War having been waged on the osprey feathers which are certainly graceful bits of decoration, the stiff plumage of the owl is resorted to. However, one of the most popular Court dressmakers of Brook Street, off Bond Street, showed me a beautiful evening dinner dress of white broadcloth trimmed with white owl feathers, the droll head of the owl perched on the left shoulder of the low bodice, among the soft feathers of the finishing band. Mrs. Craig showed other pretty things until T longed for some fairy godmother to touch my purse with a magic wand and make its contents multiply a hundredfold.. One graceful rifle was a set of gold and coloured embroidered strips for trimming blouses. These strips were in Chinese silk gauze in all the prettiest. pale Eastern colours. The embroidery. was done in various designs of flowers "and birds. The Intter were birds -quite: unknown to England, but none -the less beautiful on that account. Birds seem to be the decorative craze of the passing hour. Even the Jubilee literature turns to birds. Bird lore is given us, in new editions of old volumes, also-in new books on the old themes. We have charming book this month by Mr. J. H. Crawford, entitled Sumner Days for Wine ter Evenings. It is a poetic series of chay ters on birds. Mr. Crawford is really 3 scientific Scotch authority on our winged friends. Yet to the casual student he gives enough of hard facts to serve a purpose, and plenty of graceful sentiment to make his facts of interest to the student as to others. Mr. Crawford has been called the "Burroughs of England." Our American Burroughs, is, in a way, the one who treads in the steps of Jeficies, who knew the heart of nature so well in her birds, her flowers, and her variabilities of moods, Listen to Crawford's words written the 28ch of last February on a bird, a little lark, gleam of sunshine, which entered th parlour at the self-same moment, may ha inspired the song: Or who knows but that the song may have caused the sunbeam to peep from behind the cloud just to see where it came from. A sunbeam visiting, the earth and entering a bird, may' wel change to a song." Could any prose writ ing be more exquisitely poetic than this? Yet—while Mr. Crawford has a reading among the ''elect few," who have hearts and brains, he still awaits a larger recognition, a recognition accorded to women like Marie Corelli, who write not only trash but most irreverent trash.
Text read from the printed page and cleaned; old type leaves the occasional error.