"Can we never get away from this millinery exhibition of death?" I
exclaimed in horror.
"No," said my mother sorrowfully. "The god, Fashion, I told you of has
his slaves all over the land. We will find them wherever we go, north,
south, east, and west. No town is too small, no neighborhood too
remote, but there will be found women ready to carry out his cruel
laws."
Had we not been haunted by this vision of death which we were
constantly meeting wherever women were congregated, we might have been
happy in the fair land of rose blossoms and magnolias where we now
sojourned. The air was soft and balmy, and the atmosphere filled us
with a serene, restful languor quite new to those who had been
accustomed to the brisker habits of a colder clime. Besides the birds
there were many human visitors from the North spending the winter
months here. Some sought this warmer climate for their health, others
for pleasure, and these also soon fell into the easy-going,
happy-go-lucky ways induced by the sluggish climate.
Among the birds the waxwings most readily acquired this delightful
Southern habit of taking life easy. In fact the waxwings are inclined
to be lazy, except when they are nesting; they are the most deliberate
creatures one can find, but very foppish and neat in their dress.
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