Chapter III: The poultry yard

I shall not undertake to tell the whole history of the old hen and chickens, whose story is begun in the preceding chapter. If any of my readers meet with Jack, who is now a man, they can ask him, and he will tell them how the greater part of the brood grew up to be pullets or cockerels, and made a considerable noise in the world. He will tell them how the former at last became old hens, and laid eggs, and cackled like their ancestors; and how the latter, after many funny trials, learned to crow, and finally to fight, as their fathers and grandfathers had done before them. I must tell you, myself, what Jack said to his aunt about this fighting.

He had watched the chickens with a great deal of care, and he was greatly diverted to see the little roosters, as soon as they had little bits of red combs on their heads, try to crow and fight. They really seemed like some smart boys we have seen, at the age of sixteen or seventeen, trying to smoke cigars, or drink wine, or some other liquor, and appearing very ridiculous, while they fancied that they were exciting the envy and admiration of all around them, inasmuch as they were imitating the deeds of those older than themselves.

Jack laughed heartily at the ambitious efforts of the cockerels, as well in boasting as in battle――until, one day, he saw two of them fight till their heads were bloody, and one of them had his eyes picked out. This shocked him greatly, and his heart being grieved, he went to tell what had happened to his aunt. She tried to comfort him as well as she could, but, at last, he spoke to her as follows: “You told me, aunt Betsey, that these creatures were governed by instinct, and that this instinct was implanted by God. You said that the obedience of the chickens to their parent was of this nature, and furnished a good example to children. Now, I wish to ask if the fighting of the cockerels is not implanted by God, and therefore a good example to children?”

Aunt Betsey smiled at the shrewdness of this question, and seeing that it was asked in earnest, and not scoffingly, by Jack, she replied seriously in these words: “I do not suppose, Jack, that instinct is the only guide of animals. It is their guide when young, but when they are older and know how to take care of themselves, then I suppose that in many things they act freely and from their own sense and judgment. When you were an infant you were guided by instinct, but now that you are older, you act freely, according to your choice. You may fight, or you may be peaceful, just as you please. Having arrived at this period, you are responsible for your conduct, for it has pleased God to make you free. It is just so, I think, with these young cockerels; they may fight, or let it alone. If they fight and get bloody noses, they only are to blame. And if they do fight, it is no example for us. God has given human beings a law of peace, and this should be their rule. Dr. Watts has said,

‘Let dogs delight
To bark and bite
For God hath made them so――
Let bears and lions
Growl and fight,
For ’tis their nature too.’

“But it is quite otherwise with human beings; even if brute animals are left to tear each other in pieces, mankind are taught that peace, kindness and harmony are not only the duty, but the happiness of the human race.”

From observing the hen and her chickens, Jack’s attention was drawn to the other inhabitants of the poultry yard. The strutting turkey, the hissing, gobbling goose, the waddling duck, the screaming guinea-hen, and the fantastic peacock, each in turn became the subject of his investigation, and each seemed to him to have a character and interest peculiar to itself. If I had the power faithfully to paint all his feelings, and space to detail all his thoughts, I could make the story entertaining, but I must content myself with a very general account of the matter.

I believe there are very few persons who have not been often amused in pausing for a half hour and noticing the various airs, manners and customs, of the feathered inhabitants of the poultry yard. The hen, stealing to her nest, deposits her eggs, and then comes forth with an obstreperous cackle, to tell everybody what she has been about.

“Cut――cut――cadau cut――
Lay an egg every day
And have to go barefoot!”

The rooster――he that is “cock of the walk,” leads forth his body of hens, and when he finds a good fat grub, calls his favorites to come and feast on the delicate morsel. Like a polite old beau, he seems to prefer the happiness of the other sex to his own; his tones and manner are soft and insinuating, and he becomes the very personification of gallantry. While he is thus tender to the females of the flock, he is harsh and unsparing to his rivals of the masculine gender. If one of them comes near, he is sure to feel his spurs, and, after the rebuke, to hear the shrill triumphant crow of the conqueror.

The turkey-cock struts round and round, grating the edges of his wings upon the ground, and displays his purple wattles, his crimson comb, and his black, bristly beard, to the admiring gaze of the tender, transcendental hens of his flock. The guinea-hen, creeping afar, amid some thicket, comes running home with a terrible cry, as if thieves, robbers and murderers were at hand! The peacock, situated upon some conspicuous mound, spreads out his tail, set with a thousand gorgeous gems, and, lost in admiration, appears to enjoy a sublime self-conceit. Amid all this exultation, the vulgar duck is dabbling in the mud, only deigning to utter his quack――quack――quack, at intervals, few and far between. At the same time, the silent and sentimental goose is swimming upon the bosom of the muddy pool, now and then plunging its long neck into the recesses of the element upon which it floats――happy if perchance some insect, lizard, or tadpole may reward its search.

It is not to be supposed that these amusing scenes escaped the sharp observation of Inquisitive Jack. He indeed, noticed the peculiarities of the several kinds of poultry, and had many a long conversation upon the subject with his aunt Betsey. We can only note the substance of what she told him.

The domestic fowls are the descendants of birds originally wild. The barn-door cock and hen came in the first place from Asia, and in some parts of India they are still to be met with, though their appearance is somewhat different from that of the tame breeds. The peacock came also from Asia, and the guinea-hen from Africa. The duck is but a tame mallard, a bird which is often shot along our coasts. The honest goose is descended from the wild gray bird, that is often seen in flocks, in spring time, high in air, and in the shape of a triangle, wending their way to the far north, where they may breed in solitude, peace and safety.

The turkey is the only original bird of America among our poultry. It was found in the forests, when the Europeans first visited this continent. It is less changed by domestication than any other bird. If you were to see it in the wilds of the west, where flocks of it are still common, you would think it only a truant turkey which had strayed from the barn-yard. It is a strutting, vain, cowardly bird, though it is very good eating. The French call it _dinde_, and hence our word _dandy_, which means a vain, cowardly coxcomb.

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PROMOTION FROM THE RANKS.――Seventeen private soldiers of the French army, in Bonaparte’s time, by their bravery and talents raised themselves to the following distinguished stations; two became kings; two, princes; nine, dukes; two, field-marshals; and two generals.

Bill and the Boys.

_The story of the lottery ticket, continued._

Thomas Trudge was now one of the richest men in the town of Buckwheat, in which he resided, and it was not long before his good fortune was known over the whole place. A great many people came to see him and talk with him about it, and hear the whole story from beginning to end. They desired also to see the money, and make sure that it was real, good money; for many of them could hardly believe that a poor pedlar should draw a prize of fifty thousand dollars. A great many persons also came to see Mr. and Mrs. Trudge, who had never been in their humble cottage before; and Mrs. Trudge was not slow to observe that the people now called her husband Mr. Trudge, instead of Tom, and herself, Mrs. Trudge, instead of Bridget.

The town of Buckwheat consisted of about two thousand inhabitants, who were chiefly devoted to agriculture. It derived its name from its producing a large quantity of that particular kind of grain which is famous for feeding poultry and making flap-jacks. It consisted of two villages, which bore the titles of Up-town and Down-town. In the former portion, there dwelt several families of some wealth, who had removed thither from the city of New York, during the war of the revolution, to escape from the dangers and anxieties of that period. These families, having similar tastes and habits of life, naturally associated together, and were hence called the aristocracy.

The leader of fashion among this portion of the community was a dashing widow, by the name of Mrs. Million. She was rich, and so long as she was flattered and permitted to have her own way, she was hospitable and good-natured; but if thwarted, or if her superiority in all respects were called into question, she was haughty, ill-natured, and vindictive.

While such was the state of things at Up-town, there was also a natural association formed by the people in that portion of the place called Down-town. “Birds of a feather flock together,” says the adage; and, accordingly, the Down-towners, being drawn together by similar tastes, habits and condition, associated with each other, and were called the democracy. For a long time, these names were not in use in Buckwheat, and the people, whatever inequality in their condition might exist, got along very peaceably together. But when they began to call each other names, such as aristocrat and democrat, a feeling of hostility grew up among them, and it was not long before bad blood was excited between them. Hitherto, all things had gone on peaceably; every person was at liberty to do as he pleased, provided there was nothing improper in his conduct; but now that these ugly names had got in among them, there was a great deal of scandal and back-biting abroad. It really seemed as if the introduction of these two words――aristocracy and democracy――into the good old town of Buckwheat, did as much to break up the peace and harmony of the people, as if two evil spirits had taken up their residence there, and had exerted themselves to set the inhabitants by the ears.

Thomas Trudge was naturally a fair-minded, honest, good-hearted fellow, and, left to himself, would never have made any trouble in the world. But his partner, Bridget, was restless, meddlesome, and ambitious. She was always talking about the Up-towners, and nothing happened there, but it was the occasion of some sour and satirical reflection upon her part. She kept an especial watch upon Mrs. Million, particularly at the meeting on Sunday. Her dress was then thoroughly scanned, and if she ventured to come out with a new bonnet, gown, frill, or even ribbon, the amiable Bridget was sure to exclaim somewhat in this manner: “Shame upon that Mrs. Million, to be perking herself up in church with her new finery, to attract the attention of the whole congregation! What is Mrs. Million, that she presumes to catch all the best of the minister’s discourse――the corn and the kernel――and leave nothing but the husks for such people as we are. Oh, it’s because she’s rich, I suppose! But the tables will be turned, by and by. ‘Every dog must have his day!’ Dives had his, and Mrs. Million is having hers; but there’s another world to settle these accounts in!”

It must not be supposed that Bridget Trudge was a bad woman, even though she indulged in such spiteful words; her bark was a great deal worse than her bite. But still, people who get into the habit of talking harshly, will ere long feel and act harshly――and so it was with Bridget. She had been so accustomed to indulge her love of scandal towards the Up-towners, that she seemed to hate them; and as to Mrs. Million, she felt as if she owed her some particular grudge; and this was the more curious, from the fact that Mrs. Million had always treated Bridget with kindness, and had made her various presents of considerable value. Nothing, however, in the conduct of the Up-towners, could satisfy Mrs. Trudge. Their behavior, in her view, was all wrong. She accused them of being extravagant, worldly-minded, dissipated, and, what was ten times worse than all, aristocratic.

Entertaining such views as these, it may seem strange that the first idea of Mrs. Trudge, after she had settled it in her mind that they were rich, was, that she would become one of the Up-towners, join the aristocracy, and out-dash Mrs. Million. Her first great manœuvre was developed on the second Sunday after the drawing of the prize. Her husband went in his usual dress, but Mrs. Trudge appeared in all the glory of her new changeable damask, decorated with figures in gold. It was made in the height of the fashion; and as she flaunted up the broad aisle, you might have fancied that she was going to a masquerade. An enormous red satin bonnet, with huge bunches of ribbons, red shoes and a tall fan――though it was now November――served to aid the conceit. The little Trudges followed their mother, fantastically attired, while Tom, the pedlar, in his rusty, brown suit, brought up the rear.

The Scottish poet, Burns, has said a great many good things; and among these is the following couplet:

“Oh! would kind heaven the giftie gie us
To see oursels as ithers see us.”

Mrs. Trudge supposed that on the present occasion she was exciting the admiration of all Buckwheat; that she was provoking the envy of the proud Mrs. Million, and that she was conquering the respect of the Up-towners. The text happened to be the story of Lazarus in Abraham’s bosom, and was used by the preacher to show the compensations which are to be made to the humble Christian in a future world, for the sorrows, suffering and poverty of this. Mrs. Trudge made a curious, though flattering application of the text to herself. “Yes, yes,” said she, internally, “the poor shall be comforted――those who have suffered shall have the reward. I have endured poverty and suffering, and now I am taken to Abraham’s bosom.” She enjoyed great satisfaction in this view of the case, and, for the first time in her life, fondly fancied that the preacher intended to bestow upon her the comforts of Scripture.

It is not our purpose to detail the various steps by which the Trudges changed their position in society. It will be sufficient to say that they left their humble cottage and entered a new house, which they caused to be built upon the very top of Up-town! This was constructed in the most approved style; and the grounds around were duly decorated with gravel-walks, avenues, flower-beds, shrubbery, and long straight rows of Lombardy poplars. Here, they gave tea-parties and suppers; and in the course of two years rejoiced in considering themselves as making a part of that aristocracy which Mrs. Trudge had before regarded as so hateful.

[To be continued.]

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COMPARISON BETWEEN COAL AND GOLD.――In a work published a year or two ago by a Spaniard, there is a comparison between the produce of gold and silver mines in America and the coal mines in England, from which it appears that the gross value of the annual produce of the coal mines, which is 18,000,000 of tons, amounts to 450,000,000 francs, including the wages and other charges, whilst the produce of the gold and silver mines, including the same charges, is only 220,500,000 francs; showing a balance in favor of the coal of England over the gold and silver mines of the New World, of no less a sum than 229,500,000 francs.

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FAMILY MEN.――Malancthon is reported to have frequently studied the gravest points of theology, with his book in one hand, and, in the other, the edge of a cradle which he constantly rocked; and M. Esprit, a celebrated author and scholar, has been found reading Plato with great attention, considering the interruptions which he met with from the necessity of sounding his little child’s whistle.

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THE NINE OF DIAMONDS.――The nine of diamonds is called the curse of Scotland, from the Duke of Cumberland writing on the back of that card his sanguinary orders for military execution after the battle of Culloden.

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SHARP RETORT.――“Will you lend father your newspaper, sir?――he only just wants to read it?” “Yes, boy――and ask him to lend me his dinner――I only just want to eat it!”

The Leming.

The Leming, which is a native of Scandinavia, is somewhat larger than a dormouse, having a short, bushy tail. Its fore legs are short, and its hind ones are long, which give it a degree of swiftness. It is particularly remarkable for its migrations, in which many millions remove from their native mountains and descend like a torrent upon the plains. They move, for the most part, in a square, marching forward by night and lying still by day. Thus, like an animated torrent, they are often seen more than a mile broad, covering the ground, and that so thick, that the hindmost touches the leader.

It is in vain that the poor inhabitant resists or attempts to stop their progress, they still keep moving forward, and though thousands are destroyed, myriads are seen to succeed, and make their destruction impracticable. They generally move in lines, which are about three feet from each other, and exactly parallel. Their march is always directed from the north-west to the south-east, and regularly conducted from the beginning. Wherever their motions are turned, nothing can stop them; they go directly forward, impelled by some strange power; and from the time they first set out, they never once think of retreating. If a lake or a river happens to intercept their progress, they all together take to the water and swim over it; a fire, a deep well, or a torrent, does not turn them out of their direction; they boldly plunge into the flames, or leap down the well, where they are sometimes seen climbing up on the other side.

If they are interrupted by a boat across a river, while they are swimming, they never attempt to swim round it, but mount directly up its sides, and the boatmen, who know how vain resistance in such a case may be, calmly suffer the living torrent to pass on, which it does without further damage. If they meet with a stack of hay or corn that interrupts their passage, instead of going over it, they gnaw their way through. It is happy, however, for mankind, that they eat nothing that is prepared for human subsistence; they never enter a house to destroy the provisions, but are contented with eating every root and vegetable that they meet. If they happen to pass through a meadow, they destroy it in a very short time, and give it the appearance of being burnt up and strewed with ashes.

An enemy so numerous and destructive would quickly render the countries where they appear, utterly uninhabitable, did it not fortunately happen that the same rapacity that animates them to destroy the labor of mankind, at last impels them to destroy and devour each other. After committing incredible devastation, they are at last seen to separate into two armies, opposed with deadly hatred, and they continue their engagements till one party overcomes the other. From that time they utterly disappear; some suppose that they rush headlong into the sea; others that they kill themselves; but the most probable opinion is, that having devoured the vegetable productions of the country, they fall to devouring one another. However this may be, they are found dead by thousands, and their carcasses have been known to infect the air for several miles around, so as to produce very malignant disorders.

The Swedes and Norwegians, who live by husbandry, consider an invasion from these vermin as a terrible visitation; but it is very different with respect to the Laplanders, who lead a vagrant life like the beings themselves. They are never so happy as when an army of these creatures come down amongst them, for then they have a feast upon their flesh, which they esteem very good eating, although rejected both by cats and dogs.

Pictures of Various Nations.