If every hen should only raise five broods yearly of ten each, and
there were ten hens to start with, at the end of two years they
would number 344,760, after the superfluous roosters were sold; and
then, supposing the extra eggs to have paid for their keeping and
the produce to be worth only a dollar and a half a pair, there would
be a clear profit of $258,520. Allowing for occasional deaths, this
sum might be stated in round numbers at a quarter of a million,
which would be a liberal increase from ten hens. Of course I did not
expect to do as well as this, but merely mention what might be done
with good luck and forcing.

ROBERT ROOSEVELT.

Having always heard, on the best authority, that there was "money in
hens," I invested largely in prize fowls secured at State fairs and
large poultry shows, buying as many kinds as possible to make an
effective and brilliant display in their "runs."

There is a good deal of money in my hens--how to get it back is the
present problem. These hens were all heralded as famous layers; several
did lay in the traveling coops on the journey, great pinky-brown
beauties, just to show what they could do if they chose, then stopped
suddenly. I wrote anxiously to former owners of this vaunted stock to
explain such disappointing behavior. Some guessed the hens were just
moulting, others thought "may be they were broody"; a few had the
frankness to agree with me that it was mighty curious, but hens always
were "sorter contrary critters."

Their appetites remained normal, but, as the little girl said of her pet
bantam, they only lay about doing nothing. And when guests desired some