A FORWARD MARCH. 1 9 



" You're as knowing a bird as I Icnow; 

 But til ere are things a little too deep for a crow ; 

 Just add one to one, and what's the amount ? 

 You're mighty cute creatures, but then you can't count." 



But is it altogether fanciful to suggest that as 

 mental evolution in animals goes on, these saga- 

 cious fowls, by "a protracted series of experien- 

 ces," may not in the future have the faculty of 

 determining in some way the true situation of 

 affairs behind the screen, and so will not be 

 deceived by any such artful dodges as "Jack Has- 

 kell" practiced? At any rate, these shrewd, 

 clear-sighted individuals seen to-day overhead, 

 within an hour's flight of the Charles River, "the 

 Classic Shades," and the gilded "hub," are on the 

 high road to learning; for they already are pro- 

 nouncing their names in Latin — " Cor-Corvus- 

 Cor," almost as plainly as Linnaeus did when he 

 gave to the crows their family titles. 



The twenty-ninth of the month was, after all, a 

 "weather breeder." The crow antics, bird songs, 

 butterfly waverings, and the balmy air and light 

 were hatching a storm. On the last day, from 

 their cloud nests overhead, the snow flakes came 

 flying down to earth ; first in th6 form of little 

 woolly pellets ; then in broad, white slices and 

 feathers ; and later, in the last hours of his rule, 

 March went out in a storm of tears. 



