THE POULTRY BASKET--A LIFE-PRESERVER.


I will tell you an old story of an incident which occurred many years
ago, but perhaps it may be new to you, and please you as much as it did
me when I was a little girl, and used to sit on my grandpapa's knee, and
listen to this tale among many others.

The hero of my story was a countryman; you may, if you please, fancy his
neat white cottage on the hill-side, with its rustic porch, all
overgrown with jasmine, roses, and clematis; the pretty garden and
orchard belonging to it, with the snug poultry yard, the shed for the
cow, and the stack of food for winter's use on one side.

[Illustration: THE POULTRY YARD.]

You may fancy the pleasure of the little children who lived at this
cottage in going with their mother morning and evening to feed the
poultry; the noise and bustle among the feathered tribe at this time;
how some rudely push before and peck the others in their anxiety to
obtain the first grains that fall from the basket, and how the little
children take care that the most greedy shall not get it all; their joy
at seeing the young broods of tiny chicks covered with downy feathers,
and the anxiety of the hens each to protect her own from danger, and
teach them to scratch and pick up food for themselves; while they never
forget to admire and praise the beauty of the fine old cock, as he