Thus, in the first instance, they cost us six cents each; and they
were likewise more expensive to feed than the chickens. They were
never fit for the table till they had cost us sixty-three cents the
couple. One reason of this was, that as the chickens had all the waste
bids, they had nothing but what was bought for them; but then they
were such ducks as could not have been purchased at the poulterers'.

We never killed one unless it weighed four pounds; they used to be
brought in at night, and placed in the scale: if it was the weight I
have mentioned it was killed, if not it was respited till it did so.

At first we tried cooping them to fatten, but found it did not answer,
as they moped and refused to eat by themselves; so we abandoned that
plan, and were content to let them run in the meadows till fit to
kill, which was not till they were three months old. They were never
"fat," but very meaty, and fine flavored,--not in the least like those
which are bought, which, however fat they may appear before they are
cooked, come to table half the size they were when put down to the
fire.

I remember being rather puzzled once when resident in London. I
wanted a particularly fine couple of ducks for a "company dinner," and
went myself to the shop where I dealt to order them.

"Now, Mrs. Todd," said I, "the ducks I require are not fat ducks, but
meaty ones; the last I had from you had nothing on them when they came
to table, though they looked so plump when you sent them."

"Oh, yes, ma'am," was the rejoinder. "I know just what you want; but
they are very difficult to get: you want _running_ ducks."