per
names, these delicacies tasted quite--as well in those days as they
do now, and, if my youthful memory does not mislead me, they tasted a
little better.

There is no stage of the rise and progress of Indian puddings and
pumpkin pies, with which, when a youngster, I was not familiar. In the
very beginning of things, when the fields were being ploughed, "we
boys" were there. True, we went with no intent to benefit either the
corn-crop or the pumpkin-vines. We merely searched in the newly
turned-up earth for fish-worms. But for all that, we were there.

And when the corn was all planted, how zealous we used to be about the
crows! What benevolent but idiotic old scarecrows we used to
construct, and how _extremely_ anxious we were to be intrusted with
guns, that we might disperse, at once and forever, these black
marauders! For well we knew that a few dead crows, stuck up here and
there on stakes, would frighten away all the rest of the flock.

But we were not allowed the guns, and, even if we had had them, it is
probable that the crows would all have died of old age, had they
depended for an early death upon our powder and shot. With their
sagacity, their long sight, and their sentinels posted on the high
trees around the field, they were not likely to let a boy with a gun
approach very near to them. I have heard--and have no doubt of the
truth of the statement--that one of the best ways to shoot crows is to
go after them in a wagon, keeping your gun, of course, as much out of
sight as possible. Crows seem to know exactly what guns are intended
for. But they are seldom afraid of a wagon. They expect no danger from
it, and one can frequently drive along a country road while crows are
quietly feeding in the field adjoining, quite close to the fence.

But if any one goes out to shoot crows in this way he had better be
very careful that he has an excessively mild and unimpressible horse.
For, if the horse is frightened at the report of the gun, and dashes
away, and smashes the wagon, and breaks his harness, and spills
everything out of the wagon into the dust, mud, and bramble-bushes,
and throws the gunner heels over head into a ditch, it may be that a
dead crow will hardly pay him for his trouble and expense in procuring
it.

But after a time the corn got so high that it was not afraid of a
bird, and then we forgot the crows. But we liked to watch the corn in
all its stages. We kept a sharp look-out for the young pum