[Pg 35]

The Hen That Could Lay and Lie.

I had the following story from the bill of an old Spanish hen, an inveterate cackler, who used to fly over the neighbouring fence and wander, with happy, self-communing clucks about my vegetable garden.

"Yes young man you are young, you may feel bigger than I am, but you are not quite so tough, indeed toughness alone has saved me my life for a good many Christmas mornings. I am a tough old hen, I have seen the world; I have traveled. You know the island in the Napa River just above the railroad bridge? Well, I was wrecked there in my young days and it happened in this manner.

"The spring of the year 18— was a wet one; snow fell in the foothills and when it melted, the waters rushed down through the cañons and filled the river. Our coop, (I say ours as I had a husband then,) stood near the bank, and the rising water carried it away. I shall never forget the night. It was Billy's last night on earth; Billy was my better half, and a handsome, young cock he was, all the young pullets in the yard had yellow combs, from envy, the day[Pg 36] we were married. Old Partlett with her brood of twelve ducks tried her best to get him, but Billy said he didn't think it was quite the most moral thing in the world for a hen of her age to hatch out ducks and it set a bad example to the young 'broilers' who were growing up about us, so he declined her proposals with thanks and sent her off with her ugly-mouthed off-spring. Well, as I was saying, our coop was carried down the stream, Billy and I balancing ourselves on the upper roost and speaking words of comfort to cheer up each other's fast fainting gizzards. We hens have a proverb which says, 'A life without hope is an egg without a yolk, a gizzard without gravel,' and that night proved the words to be true. Suddenly down went Billy into the roaring flood. I can see his yellow spurs as he went under, and his clutching claws, those beautiful, shining claws that only walked the path of virtue, as far as I knew. Alas how I fluttered, I tried to crow for help but it was useless, I could no more do it than the hens of your genus can whistle. Billy went out forever.

[Pg 36]

"How I remember his kindness now; how he would find the best worms and grasshoppers and always call me to see them before he ate them, not as that old beast Cochin China does, who not even lets his wife look at the delicious morsels he swallows.

"Billy is gone, so I will not regret him 

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