18 WINTER SUNSHINE. 



voice ? Yet one of the most musical sounds in nature 

 proceeds from the crow. All the crow tribe from the 

 blue jay up are capable of certain low ventriloquial 

 notes that have peculiar cadence and charm. I often 

 hear the crow indulging in his, in winter, and am re- 

 minded of the sound of the dulcimer. The bird 

 stretches up and exerts himself like a cock in the act 

 of crowing and gives forth a peculiarly clear, vitreous 

 sound that is sure to arrest and reward your atten- 

 tion. This is no doubt the song the fox begged to 

 be favored with, as in delivering it the crow must 

 inevitably let drop the piece of meat. 



The crow in his purity, I believe, is seen and heard 

 only in the North. Before you reach the Potomac 

 there is an infusion of a weaker element, the fish- 

 crow, whose helpless feminine call contrasts strongly 

 with the hearty masculine caw of the original Simon. 



In passing from crows to colored men I hope I am 

 not guilty of any disrespect toward the latter. In 

 my walks about Washington, both winter and sum- 

 mer, colored men are about the only pedestrians I 

 meet ; and I meet them everywhere, in the fields 

 and in the woods and in the public road, swinging 

 along with that peculiar, rambling, elastic gait, taking 

 advantage of the short cuts and threading the country 

 with paths and byways. I doubt if the colored man 

 can compete with his white brother as a walker ; his 

 foot is too flat and the calves of his legs too small, but 

 he is certainly the most picturesque traveler to be 

 seen on the road. He bends his knees more than the 



