156 YOUNG AMERICA IN FEATHERS. 



working parents who hurried back and forth 

 overhead, at their best speed, trying to stop the 

 mouths of their ill-bred brood. On one occa- 

 sion I saw an old crow flying over, calling in 

 a decided, " stern parent " style, followed by a 

 youngster not yet expert on the wing, who an- 

 swered with his droll baby "ma-a-a" in a much 

 higher key. She was conducting him over the 

 pasture to the salt marsh, where much crow-baby 

 food came from in those days, and he was doing 

 his best to keep up with her stronger flight. 

 Sometimes another sound from the nursery came 

 to my ears, — the caw of an adult, drawn out 

 into a long, earnest " aw-w-w," like admonishing 

 or instructing the now silent olive branches. It 

 was many times repeated, and occasionally inter- 

 rupted by a baby voice, showing that the little 

 ones were not asleep. I suspect, from what I 

 have seen of crow ways, that the sable mamma 

 is a strict disciplinarian who will tolerate no 

 liberties and no delinquencies on the part of her 

 dusky brood, and although this particular Young 

 American may complain, he dare not rebel. 

 Poor crowling! he needs perhaps a Spartan 

 training to fit him for his hard life in the world. 

 With every man's hand against him, and danger 

 lurking on all sides, he must be wary and sharp 

 and have all his wits about him to live. 



When I could tear myself away from this 



