BIRDS THAT PREY AND SOME THAT DO NOT 457 



with colored bits of cloth which he deftly tucked 

 in its shaggy coat. I suspected the real cause of 

 the disagreeable odor, and as soon as the coast was 

 clear, discovered and removed the liver, and never 

 until this day did I give the crow away. 



THE HERO JIM CROW. 



His head appeared very much too large for 

 everything about him except his mouth and voice. 

 The former feature was the first to engage one's 

 attention, and the latter was as hoarse as the croup. 



His complexion was what might be called a dark 

 Payne's gray and the bluish black skin hung in 

 wrinkles around his withered neck, but was tightly 

 stretched over his rounded abdomen. He was as 

 naked as the brass Diana on the top of Madison 

 Square Garden, and as blind as love. His legs 

 were too long and too weak to support his alder- 

 manic body, but we must not blame Little Jim for 

 these peculiarities ; he was born with them ; and he 

 was only a little orphan baby crow. 



The crib in which the baby reposed was a work 

 basket, the mattress was dry grass, and the coverlet 

 a rag of red flannel; however, the basket was more 

 comfortable than the nest in which he was born 

 and the flannel was as warm as an embroidered 

 quilt. Jim was no bottle baby, but he was very 

 fond of raw eggs which his foster father, Dick, 

 knew how to crack so that the contents could slip 

 slowly into the great, gaping mouth of the little 

 crow. 



