t as good, and could be taught
to talk, too.

And one day, when we were playing "Here we go round the mulberry bush"
in the woods near the house, little Ikey, our colored washerwoman's boy,
came along with a live crow in his hands.

Of course we were curious to see and examine the wonderful bird, and we
crowded around Ikey, who seemed bewildered at being the object of so
much attention.

"Where did you get him?" "What you going to do with him?" "How much will
you take for him?" asked Tom, Josie and Fred, in one breath.

But Ikey only grinned, as he answered each in turn.

"Got him out of his nest in a post-oak. Dey was more of 'em, but I
couldn't git ony dis one. I'm a-gwine to raise him if mammy'll let me.
But I mout sell him, if I git a good chance."

The opportunity was not to be lost, and in a very few moments Ikey was
trudging homeward with a handful of coppers and two nickels--all the
change we could raise among us, and we proudly carried our new-found
treasure to the house.

"Mercy on us!" cried mamma, holding up her hands. "What on earth have
you got there?"

"A crow," we told her. "And we're going to tame him, and teach him to
talk."

"Nonsense!" said mamma. "You don't suppose I'll have a _crow_ about the
house, to kill the young chickens and eat up the eggs!"

But we begged and pleaded, till at last she gave her consent to let us
keep it.

"It'll be a great torment," grumbled grandma. "It's a _young_ bird,
and you'll have to feed it like a baby."

But we did not mind the trouble. Indeed, it was more of an amusement to
us to feed our pet on scraps of meat and bits of bread. It opened its
mouth so wide, and cried "Caw-aw-aw!" in such a satisfactory way.

Ikey had instructed us as to the manner of feeding.

"Jess you peck it on de head, an' it'll open its mouth like it does fur
de ole birds," he explained.

And we found his advice was good.

We named our pet "Jack-a-Dandy," and he grew and throve so much that he
was soon able to procure his own food, which consisted of crickets and
other insects.

He was so tame that we could allow him perfect freedom, without any fear
of his deserting us.

As he grew older, he used frequently to fly into the top of a tall
post-oak near the front door, from which he would circle around and
around the house, then alight on the ground, and come hopping in the
door, with a cheerful "caw! caw!" as if asserting that there was no
place like home.

"He's bette