Of which this ring as token now I prize.




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 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