Morning journal and courier., 1891-02-21
THE FLEETING SHOW.

Some of Its Facts and Fancies.
written for the JOURNAL AND CouR1ER.l
THE PROMISE OF SPRING.
Already shop windows are Frightening
with hints of spring, and women in stuff
gowns, with fur collars turned above their
ears, may stand shivering in snow and
sleet, and feast their eyes upon pretty and
tempting spring fabrics; prophecies in
silk and cotton of balmy air and sunlight.
soft skies, the blossoming of daffodils,
and the return of those winged minstrels,
the blue bird and robin.
Among the novelties of the approaching
season are pattern robes of black null,
lawn, or batiste, exquisitely embroidered
with bright colors in wheel, dot, or star
designs, or with buds and sprays, or gar
lands of flowers, in their natural tints.
Others have embroidered points all along
one edge, while others still are embellished
with arabesque designs across the whole
surface; these to be used in combination
with plain goods.
The ginghams are more witching than
ever before, in gay tartan plaids, striped
and shaded in one color or with different
colors combined, the newest thing being in
delicate old pinks and blues, soft bluffs and
pair greens, with silken figured stripes run
mug turouSu tHeul-Oedtlueo guests OF
ginghams that seem to have nothing in
common with the work-a-day fabrics usu-
ally known by that name.
One joyful result of returning springtime
is that the manufactured" birds which all
winter long have perched in painful atti-
tudes upon the hats of the careless and
thoughtless will retire to obscurity, haply
to become the prey of the vengeful moth,
while flowers, the natural adornment of
the season, will resume their rightful
place. ''Man could not live on the
earth without the service of BIRDS" says
one who has studied the subject well, and
Olive Thorne Miller, their lover and advo-
cate, says: "Shall the birds be allowed to
rennessa" True it is that insects are dead
ly foes to vegetation; that without vegeta-
ton we are lost, and that birds only can
cope with what Ruskin calls ''the incar-
nate voracity'' of these destructive hosts.
Shall we not, even for our own sakes,
forswear, henceforth and forever, the
wearing of these murdered innocents?
Fancy barren springtime, without the
magic of unfolding buds; without the
subtle beauty and breath of flowers; with
out pure notes of liquid melody dropping
like pearls from the leafy archess
Read the thought of poet upon this
will all have died." the flowers and trees
must soon die for the need of them, their
protectors. 70
WHEN THE BIRDS WILL ALL HAVE DIED.
Oh, sad will be the buttercups
And balsams white and pied,
And sad will be the wood and plain
When the birds will all have died.
The comely roses purple cheeks
With grieying will grow pale,
So sad will be the Summer night
Without tho nightingale.
No swallow building meath the caves,
No robin in the tree
No cuckoo, thrush, or oriole,
Or painted colbri-
No haloyon brooding DER the wave,
No white dove on the wing,
Nor red famingoes strutting through
The gardens of the King.
The dawn will come still as death,
Wittupe'er a single lark,
And, joyless as one stricken dumb,
The day will turn to dark.
And we shall clasp our hands and cry;
| '''Ah God! All, how long
For one sweet-throated bird to sing
Even foolish song
-Rudyard Kipling.