12 BIRDS THROUGH AN OPERA-GLASS. 
platitude, but when we hear of his cracking clams 
by dropping them on a fence, coming to roost with 
the hens in cold weather, and — in the ease of a 
tame crow —opening a door by lighting on the 
latch, his originality is a surprise. A family near 
here had much merriment over the gambols of a 
pet crow named Jim. Whenever he saw the gar- 
dener passing to and fro between the house and 
garden, he would fly down from the trees, light on 
his hat, and ride back and forth. He liked to 
pick the bright blossoms, particularly pansies and 
scarlet geraniums, and would not only steal bright 
colored worsteds and ribbons, but tear all the yel- 
low covers from any novels he came across. When 
any one went to the vegetable garden he showed 
the most commendable eagerness to help with the 
work, being anxious to pick whatever was wanted 
—from raspberries and currants to the little cu- 
cumbers gathered for pickling. 
The sight of the big black puppy waddling 
along wagging high in air a long black tail in- 
congruously finished off with a tipping of white 
hairs was too much for Jim’s sobriety. Down he 
would dive, give a nip at the hairs, and be gravely 
seated on a branch just out of reach by the time 
Bruno had turned to snap at him. Let the puppy 
move on a step, and down the mischief would come 
again, and so the two would play — sometimes for 
more than half an hour at atime. Then again, 
the joke would take a more practical turn, for, in- 
