Travels in a Tree-top 



13 



A word more concerning crows. What so 

 absurd, apparently, as this ? 



A single crow betokens sorrow, 



Two betoken mirth, 

 Three predidt a funeral, 



And four a birth.** 



Yet it is a very common saying, being re- 

 peated whenever a few, or less than five, fly 

 over. It is repeated mechanically, of course, 

 and then forgotten, for no one seems to worry 

 over one or three crows as they do when a 

 looking-glass breaks or the dropped fork sticks 

 up in the floor. Seems to worry, and yet I 

 strongly suspeft a trace of superstition lingers 

 in the mind of many a woman. Those who 

 will not sit as one of thirteen at a table are 

 not dead yet. Can it be that all this weak- 

 ness is only more concealed than formerly, 

 but none the less existent ? 



I watched the departing crows until they 

 were but mere specks in the sky, and heard, 

 or fancied I heard, their cawing when half a 

 mile away. It is ever a sweet sound to me. 

 It means so much, recalls a long round of jolly 

 years ; and what matters the quality of a sound 

 if a merry heart prompts its utterance ? 



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