CHAPTER XLI.
THE FATE OF THE "MODEL" SHANGHAES.
Napoleon, the great, found himself compelled to succumb to adverse fate, at the end of a long and brilliantly triumphant career. "It was destiny," he said; and he bowed to the fiat; which at last he was unable successfully to dodge.
I was the fortunate owner of a pair of fine Shanghae fowls, that were universally acknowledged to be "at the head of the crowd,"—so far as there was any beauty or attractive qualities, whatever, in this species of animal,—and I thought they were not bad-looking birds, really.
I caused a likeness to be taken of them from life, accurately, and it was placed, some years since, at the head of the circulars which I always enclosed back to my correspondents, in reply to their favors and inquiries regarding my views as to what was the best kind of domestic bird for breeding.
The cock was very handsomely formed, and when in full feather was exceedingly showy, and graceful, and noble in his carriage. His hen companions were fine, too; but there was one in particular, that, in company with this bird, I showed at several fairs, where they invariably carried away the first premium, without any question or cavil as to comparative beauty and merit. I named them "Napoleon" and the "Empress."
Their joint weight, when in the best condition, was about twenty-two pounds; and as the "fancy" then raged, they were really unexceptionable. I "donno" how many chickens I have sold by means of the pictures of these birds, but I do know that, unfortunately, this particular hen never laid an egg while I owned her, which was some two years. Still, she was very handsome, as was also her husband; and I certainly raised a great many fine chickens while they were in my yards. I called them my very best,—and they were, indeed, to look at,—a model pair of Shanghaes, as will be seen by a glance at their portraits on the next page.
But they were singled out for a curious fate. At two or three of our early fairs they had taken the first prizes; and at one of the exhibitions, finally, there chanced to come along a gentleman who fancied them exceedingly, and who was bound to possess himself of the best that could be had. He had a long purse (though, at the time he bought, prices were not up to the mark they reached subsequently, by a long margin); and when he offered forty dollars for this "model" pair, it was thought, by most of the outsiders, to be a fabulous transaction altogether, made up between us to aid in gulling "the people." However, he paid his money for them, sent them off, and the following account of their subsequent fate is thus touchingly furnished by my friend "Acorn," who chanced to be "in at the death":