THE THREE CROWS.
There was once on a time a poor man, who was sick, and the poor folks who dwelt near him knew he was ill, and would talk much of his sad state. One night, strange news were heard of him; a man said, he had been sick and had thrown up three crows, for so his wife told him. When they spoke to the wife, "yes," said she, "three black crows; it is all true, quite true."—"Did you see the crows, wife?"—"No, my dear, but Joan at the mill told me she did."—Some one went to the mill to beg Joan to shew the crows. "I have not seen them," said she, "nor did I say three crows; I said two, and I am sure that is right, for Sue, at the shop, has them, so do not laugh all of you, but go ask Sue."
They went to Sue, she had no crows to shew, and was cross, and said, "Who dares to tell me of two crows? I did but say one; one I did name, and that was all, on my word."—"Then who spoke of two?"—"Not I, good folks, trust me, I am too fond of the truth—the mere truth."—"But there was one crow?"—"Yes, yes, that is sure, the man's wife's old aunt told me so." They ran to the man's wife's old aunt; she swore her niece had told her of one black crow; that the poor man had thrown up: "Go to the cot," said she, "and see it." The folks flew to the cot and told their tale; the sick man could not but smile when he heard them, and he was fain to laugh, when his wife set all to rights and said, "Good folks, there are no crows at all in the case; I did but say that my poor man had been sick all night, and had thrown up some stuff, as black as a crow."