A CRUISE WITH A CROW. 
[* was purely and solely a question of opinion 
and of wind. He personally thought that 
one wounded teal—you know the beautiful 
little teal duck, with gold-and-green spectacles 
and a breast fit for a king’s lunch—more or 
less could not matter to the gentleman of the 
boat and the gun, especially as the gentleman 
had failed to see it. 
The gentleman, however, disagreed, and, 
after five minutes of marvellous language— 
during which our friend made short work of 
the breast of that teal—added a charge of shot 
to help the language, and our friend retired 
hastily in a halo of spattered-up water. 
Being a bird, he flew, and the wind being 
S., he flew northward. Besides, there was 
something in him that said, ‘Fly north.’ 
Monsieur of the gun and the boat and the 
wounded teal had cast him out from France— 
whither, by the way, he had wandered during 
the winter—and he would have no more of 
her—La belle France. 
He shook out his sable plumes and soared 
away heavily across the low, sullen, snappy 
waves, away and away, till he became a black 
speck, and, finally, nothing. 
