Most of my
hens do remember me in this substantial way, and the White Wyandottes
are in great favor with the Headman.
The houses in which my hens live are almost as clean as the one I
inhabit (and Polly is tidy to a degree); their food is as carefully
prepared as mine, and more punctually served; their enemies are fended
off, and they are never frightened by dogs or other animals, for the
five-acre lot on which their houses and runs are built is enclosed by a
substantial fence that prevents any interloping; book agents never
disturb their siestas, nor do tree men make their lives hideous with
lithographs of impossible fruit on improbable trees. Whether I am
indebted to one or to all of these conditions for my full egg baskets, I
am unable to say; but I do not purpose to make any change, for my egg
baskets are as full as a reasonable man could wish. As nearly as I can
estimate, my hens give thirty per cent egg returns as a yearly
average--about 120 eggs for each hen in 365 days. This is more than I
ask of them, but I do not refuse their generosity.
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