THE RAVEN AND THE DOVE. 



ELANORA KINSLEY MARBLE. 



Y 



EA, master," croaked the raven, 

 "I understand," and spreading 

 his sable wings over the waste 

 of waters he flew, anxious, as 

 was Noah, for a sight of dry land. 



The day passed, evening fell, and the 

 raven had not returned. 



"An ill-omened bird," gloomily said 

 Shem, "so black and uncanny looking. 

 His croak, even, hath to mine ear an 

 evil sound." 



"What thou sayest is true, brother," 

 returned Ham. "Verily the raven hath 

 a wicked look. A bird of more cheer 

 ful aspect, it seemeth to me, might 

 well have been chosen. The albatross, 

 so majestic, with powers of flight ex 

 celling all other creatures of the air; 

 the eagle, or better still the stormy 

 petrel, so light of body, its webbed feet 

 enabling it, with expanding wing, to 

 rest at will upon the face of the waters." 



"Coo-o-o," came a low, plaintive call 

 from a far corner. "Coo-o-o." 



"Ah, my turtle dove," responded 

 Japheth, "so loving, so true! Had the 

 choice of a messenger been left to me, 

 my brothers, verily would I have 

 chosen the dove. Naught but death 

 would have kept it, believe me, from its 

 mate and us." 



Noah turned from the window and 

 gazed sternly upon his three sons. 



"What signifieth the complexion of 

 bird, beast, or man," he demanded 

 gravely, "when one standeth in need of 

 courage, intelligence, strength? Among 

 all the winged creatures of the air 

 within the ark, canst thou name one 

 with instinct more subtle than the 

 raven's? Black and uncanny looking, 

 forsooth! Witness his speech, I tell 

 thee," decisively, "the bird hath under 

 standing." 



As Noah ceased speaking, there 

 came a low, faint tapping at the win 

 dow. With a glad countenance he 

 hastened to open it, and in flew the 

 raven, quite exhausted. 



"Water, water, everywhere," croaked 

 the bird, and after wearily eating the 



food Noah gave him, tucked his head 

 beneath his wing and was soon fast 

 asleep. 



Upon the morning of the next day, 

 Noah again sent the raven forth, also 

 the next, and the next. 



"Water, water, everywhere," croaked 

 the raven, as before, upon his return, 

 and after wearily eating of the food 

 which Noah gave him, tucked his head 

 beneath his wing and was soon fast 

 asleep. 



"Verily," sneered Ham, who with his 

 brothers had grown very impatient, 

 "the sable-plumaged bird which thou 

 dost insist upon sending forth daily, 

 knoweth naught, to my mind, but the 

 words which he so glibly speaketh. 

 Surely he hath heard them uttered an 

 hundred times." 



Noah reflected. "What thou sayest, 

 my son, may be true," he responded, 

 "for of a surety when gazing from the 

 window these many, many months, 

 those words of our speech have been 

 the daily burden. To-morrow, then," 

 his gaze fixed upon the stormy petrel, 

 "we will send forth 



"Coo-o-o" came a plaintive call from 

 the corner. "Coo-o-o." 



"The dove," finished Noah, thought 

 fully, "for verily it doth seem to answer 

 me. Though devoid of speech, its af 

 fectionate nature may yet prompt it to 

 devise some way by which its message 

 may be interpreted." 



And so upon the morning of the 

 next day Noah opened the window of 

 the ark and, the dove, poising upon his 

 finger, spread her beautiful wings and 

 over the waste of waters took her joy 

 ful flight. 



The day passed, evening fell, and the 

 dove had not returned. 



A dark frown was settling upon the 

 brow of Ham, when a faint tapping was 

 heard at the window. 



"Water, water, everywhere," croaked 

 the raven, maliciously, as Noah has 

 tened to open it and draw the exhausted 

 bird within. "Water, water, everywhere." 



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