It is held to be unlucky to pass underneath a ladder, an act which indeed might be dangerous to life or limb should the ladder fall. But it is even harder to understand the philosophy of the _dictum_ that to meet a squinting woman denotes ill luck. The bird was formerly accounted an unlucky symbol, perhaps from the fact that good fortune, like riches, is apt to take to itself wings. The hooting of an owl, the croaking of a raven, the cry of a whip-poor-will, and even the sight of a solitary magpie were always associated with malignant influences or evil presages. Poe’s raven furnishes the theme for one of his best-known poems. And the swan was long believed to sing her own death-song. Be that as it may, the fact is well remembered that a ring, bearing the device of a bird upon it, or any other object having the image of the feathered kind, was not considered a suitable gift to a woman. That article of superstition, like some others that could be mentioned, has vanished before the resistless command of fashion, so completely indeed, that birds of every known clime and plumage have since been considered the really proper adornment for woman’s headgear. There is, however, an odd superstition connected with the magpie, an instance of which is found related by Lord Roberts, in “Forty-one Years in India.” We could not do better than give it in his own words: “On the 15th July Major Cavagnari, who had been selected as the envoy and plenipotentiary to the Amir of Kabul, arrived in Kuram. I, with some fifty officers who were anxious to do honor to the envoy and see the country beyond Kuram, marched with Cavagnari to within five miles of the crest of Shutargardan pass, where we encamped, and my staff and I dined that evening with the mission. After dinner I was asked to propose the health of Cavagnari and those with him, but somehow I did not feel equal to the task: I was so thoroughly depressed, and my mind filled with such gloomy forebodings as to the fate of these fine fellows, that I could not utter a word. “Early next morning the Sirdar, who had been deputed by the Amir to receive the mission, came into camp, and soon we all started for the top of the pass.... As we ascended, curiously enough, we came across a solitary magpie, which I should not have noticed had not Cavagnari pointed it out and begged me not to mention the fact of his having seen it to his wife, as she would be sure to consider it an unlucky omen. “On descending to the (Afghan) camp, we were invited to partake of dinner, served in the Oriental fashion on a carpet spread on the ground. Everything was done most lavishly and gracefully. Nevertheless, I could not feel happy as to the prospects of the mission, and my heart sank as I wished Cavagnari good-by. When we had proceeded a few yards in our different directions, we both turned round, retraced our steps, shook hands once more, and parted forever.”