"I tell you, B——, those are handsome chickens," he insisted. "I've got a fine lot, myself. You keep but one variety, I notice. I've got 'em all."
"All what?" I inquired.
"O, all kinds—all kinds. The Chinese, and the Malays, and the Gypsies, and the Chittaprats, and the Wang Hongs, and the Yankee Games, and Bengallers, and Cropple-crowns, and Creepers, and Top-knots, and Gold Pheasants, and Buff Dorkings, and English Games, and Black Spanish and Bantams,—and I've several new breeds too, I have made myself, by crossing and mixing, in the last year, which beat the world for beauty and size, and excellence of quality."
"Indeed!" I exclaimed. "So you have made several new breeds during one year's crossing, eh? That is remarkable, doctor, certainly. I have never been able yet to accomplish so extraordinary a feat, myself," I added.
"Well, I have," said the doctor,—and probably, as he was a practising physician of several years' experience, he knew how this reversion of nature's law could be accomplished. I didn't.
"Yes," he continued; "I have made a breed I call the 'Plymouth Rocks,'—superb birds, and great layers. The—a—'Yankee Games,'—regular knock-'em-downs,—rather fight than eat, any time; and never flinch from the puncture of steel. Indeed, so plucky are these fowls, that I think they rather like to be cut up than otherwise,—alive, I mean. Then, I've another breed I've made—the 'Bengal Mountain Games.' These are smashers—never yield, and are magnificent in color. Then I have the 'Fawn-colored Dorkings,' too; and several other fancy breeds, that I've fixed up; and fancy poultry is going to sell well in the next three years, you may be sure. Come and see my stock, B——, won't you? And I'll send you anything you want from it, with pleasure."
I was then the editor of a weekly paper in Boston. I accepted my friend's kind invitation, and travelled forty miles and back to examine his poultry. It looked well—very well; the arrangement of his houses, &c., was good, and I was gratified with the show of stock, and with his politeness. But he was an enthusiast; and I saw this at the outset. And though I heard all he had to say, I could not, for the life of me, comprehend how it was that he could have decided upon the astounding merits of all these different breeds of fowls in so short a space of time—to wit, by the crossings in a single year! But that was his affair, not mine. He was getting his fancy poultry ready for the market; and he repeated, "It will sell, by and by."
And I believe it did, too! The doctor was right in this particular.
He informed me that he intended to exhibit several specimens of his fowls, shortly, in Boston; and soon afterwards I met with an advertisement in one of the agricultural weeklies, signed by my friend the doctor, the substance of which was as follows:
Notice.—I will exhibit, at Quincy Market, Boston, in a few days, sample pairs of my fowls, of the following pure breeds; namely, Cochin-China, Yellow Shanghae, Black Spanish, Fawn-colored Dorkings, Plymouth Rocks, White Dorkings, Wild Indian, Malays, Golden Hamburgs, Black Polands, Games, &c. &c; and I shall be happy to see the stock of other fanciers, at the above place, to compare notes, etc. etc.