which has an abundance of light, and is well ventilated. Beneath the floor
of the chicken-house is a cellar, which I can fill with stable manure, and
graduate the heat by its fermentation. This acts like a steady furnace.
There is room in the cellar to turn the manure from time to time to prevent
its becoming fire-fanged, so that there is no loss in this respect. Between
the heat from beneath, and the sun streaming in the windows on the south
side of the house, I can keep my laying hens warm even in zero weather; and
I make it a point not to have too many. Beyond a certain number, the more
you have the worse you're off, for poultry won't stand crowding."

"You farmers," put in Dr. Marvin, "are like the doctors, who kill or cure
too much by rule and precedent. You get into certain ways or ruts, and
stick to them. A little thought and observation would often greatly
modify your course. Now in regard to your poultry, you should remember
that they all existed once as nature made them--they were wild, and
domestication cannot wholly change their character. It seems to me that
the way to learn how to manage fowls successfully is to observe their
habits and modes of life when left to themselves. In summer, when they
have a range, we find them eating grass, seeds, insects, etc. In short,
they are omnivorous. In winter, when they can't get these things, they
are often fed one or two kinds of grain continuously. Now, from their
very nature, they need in winter all the kinds of food that they
instinctively select when foraging for themselves--fresh vegetables,
meat, and varieties of seeds or grain. We give to our chickens all the
refuse from the kitchen--the varied food we eat ourselves, with the
exception of that which contains a large percentage of salt--and they
thrive and lay well. Before they are two years old we decapitate them.
Old fowls, with rare exceptions, will not lay in winter."

Sad-eyed Mr. Alvord listened as if there were more consolation and cheer