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One President of the United States, Theodore Roosevelt, made the bird his special charge and gave orders that if anyone were found in an attempt to molest it, "let me be notified at once." Four Doctors of Science of the Biological Survey have kept watchful eyes on the tower through the years lest some scorner of Federal law should seek the falcon's life. Twice the Police Department of the District of Columbia has interfered to save the bird from the multitude (word used advisedly) clamoring for his life. Twice the Postmaster General of the United States has interposed to prevent the waylaying and the killing of the hawk as it made its way back to its tower home. For eleven years the populace now and again has sought the falcon's life, and for eleven years it has been safeguarded by Uncle Sam.

The

This winter the falcon is once more at home in the City of Washington. It goes forth daily on marauding and murder intent, and before the day is ended it has known desire's fulfillment. Government is solicitous for the welfare of the falcon for several reasons. Uncle Sam as represented in Washington, in two departments at least, is both a scientist and a sentimentalist. The Duck Hawk is a rare bird and a true falcon. Its courage is as the courage of ten. There is no fear in it. Its habit of life arouses a keen interest which is only equaled by the bird's own keenness of sense and flight when in pursuit of its quarry. The harm that it does is held as nothing when weighed in the balance with sentiment and interest. To exterminate the tribe of falcons the bird lover holds would be like cutting down a forest of great oaks because their shade interfered with the growing of one row of corn.

Every morning in winter from his gray tower overlooking the life of Pennsylvania Avenue the falcon puts forth to find its breakfast in the marshes of the Potomac. It is the epicure of the bird kind.

It disdains mice and barnyard fowls and lives almost wholly upon game. Its delight is in the chase and it easily overtakes the teal in its "mile a minute" flight and seizing it, bears it away for a feast.

Once in a while extreme cold drives

the water fowl of the Potomac marshes far away to the South, and then the falcon unwilling to leave its stone tower which it doubtless believes is a crag raised by nature for its special use, is compelled to turn for food to the hitherto disdained domestic pigeons of the city.

One day two years ago the wanderer, perhaps because it was not particularly hungry and perhaps in the sheer wantonness of a wild humor, dropped the body of a blue rock pigeon fairly on the head of a passerby on Pennsylvania Avenue. Then trouble for the freebooting baron of the gray tower began.

Complaint was lodged with an underling of the Post Office Department who knew hawks only as hawks, and knew them all as bad. A man with a shot gun went to the roof of the department building and took station just below the entrance to the tower. The falcon was seen returning, but it spied its enemy afar off and betook itself to sailing in magnificent circles about the tower, always just beyond range. Inviting pieces of raw meat was secured to tempt the bird down. The man with the shot gun did not know the daintiness of appetite of the wandering falcon. While the designing, but rapidly getting hopeless gunner was lying in wait on the roof an immense crowd collected on Pennsylvania Avenue and every man in it called for the life of the pigeon killer.

While the threats of the years had been many the wandering falcon for the first time was hovering near death. Then into the crowd on the streets came one of the bird's friends who knew its history and that its life was of more value than the lives of many pigeons. Call for help messages were sent to the White House, to the Biological Survey and to the Post Office Department. The Post Master General of the United States it happens is an ornithologist. It took about one minute to drive the gunner from the roof and another minute to nail up the door leading to the tower stairway. The falcon came down unmolested to its retreat.

The mere official act of throwing a gunner down a flight of stairs and of nailing up a tower door did not serve to cool the indignation, nor to curb the desires, of several Washington residents

to make Rob Roy pay the penalty of his pigeon appetite. The bird of the tower had one day's rest from persecution and then his life was sought again from points of vantage other than the department roof, by dead-shots who had secured permission from the Police Department to kill "within the District a murderous bird bent on killing all the Washington pigeons."

Once more the hawk's friends rallied from White House, Post Office Department and Biological Survey. The attention of the Police Department was called to the fact that under the laws of the District of Columbia it is illegal to shoot any birds of prey "except the two species known as the Cooper and the

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IN THE TOWER OF THE POST OFFICE DEPARTMENT BUILDING, WASHINGTON, ABOVE THE

had been caught in a steel trap while engaged in the degrading pursuit of trying to steal a restaurant keeper's chickens. In a yard within a block of the department building the pirate, confined in a chicken coop iron grated for the occasion, was shown to an exulting and enthusiastic crowd.

Word went forth at once that the Baron's days of freebooting were over and that while the Federal law said that he neither must be killed nor caught, yet it made an exception in case he was caught red-clawed in the act of murder. Quickly friends went to the scene of the

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What the Maid Said

MRS. DALTON had become very tired from shopping, and, slipping on her kimono, prepared herself for a period of rest. Her colored maid appeared just at this point and announced a caller.

"No, Anne," said Mrs. Dalton; "I cannot see him. Please tell him to excuse me as I am in negligee."

When the message was delivered Mrs. Dalton heard her visitor laugh so heartily that it even penetrated to her bedroom.

Calling Anne she asked the maid the cause of the hilarity.

"I dunno, ma'am, I really dunno," answered Anne.

"What did you tell him?" asked Mrs. Dal

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ton.

"Why I done tole him to please 'scuse you, as you was naked as a jay."

Many Such

"KATHERINE SHREWSBURY is engaged to be married." "Who is the lucky man?" "Her father!"-Town Topics.

Her Memory

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Feline Creatures

SLIMM-"Our landlady says she likes to see her boarders have good appetites."

SMART "Well, some women are naturally cruel."-Boston Transcript.

Domestic Bliss

"Do you and your wife agree?"

"Oh, yes, always-at least, I do."-Cleveland Plain Dealer.

of the hand at once straightened up and in a most frigid tone said: "I have not the pleasure of your acquaintance, but you have forgotten to button your waist."

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