The Tribe weary, she snatched a bowl of hot milk from 

 of the t} ie fi re an( } hastened to meet him. But an 

 evil-wisher, knowing her great love and how 

 she would not rest till she found her brother, 

 had misinformed her, and for all the pain on 

 her head caused by the heated bowl, she ran 

 now this way and now that, continually crying 

 Brother! O Brother! Hours passed, and 

 then days, and week after week and month 

 after month the girl vainly sought her loved 

 one. At last, feeling her strength ebbing, she 

 cried aloud to Allah. Allah, moved by 

 compassion, gave her wings and changed her 

 into a lapwing or black-plover, the better to 

 accomplish her purpose. Hence, when the 

 little brown children on the desert or on the 

 sun-scorched ways of the East look up and see 

 the lapwings wheeling overhead in long circling 

 flights and sudden dashes, they hear, in the 

 wailing voices, either the long yearning or the 

 sudden eager hope in the cry which to their 

 ears sounds as Brother ! O Brother ! 



Perhaps the German name of the Virgin 

 Mary's Dove is merely a variant of the Swedish 

 folk-legend concerning the lapwing. The tale 

 goes that this bird was once one of Mary's 

 handmaidens, but lost place and honour because 

 of her theft of a pair of scissors. The punish- 

 ment was transformation into a bird with a 



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