"I know a house on the Indre," says Toussenel, "where the greenhouses, open at even, receive every honest bird which seeks an asylum against the dangers of the night, where he who has delayed till late knocks with his bill in confidence. Content to be immured during the night, secure in the loyalty of their host, they fly away happy in the morning, and repay him for his hospitality with the spectacle of their joy and their unrestricted strains."
I shall exercise great caution in speaking of their domestication, since my friend, M. Isidore Geoffrey Saint Hilaire, reopens in so praiseworthy a manner this long-forgotten question.
An allusion will suffice. Antiquity in this special branch has bequeathed us the admirable patrimony which has supported the human race: the domestication of the dog, the horse, and the ass; of the camel, the elephant, the ox, the sheep, the goat, and poultry.
What progress has been made in the last two thousand years? What new acquisition?
Two only, and these unquestionably trivial: the importation of the turkey and the China pheasant.
No direct effort of man has accomplished so much for the welfare of the globe as the humble toil of the modest auxiliaries of human life.
To descend to that which we so foolishly despise, to the poultry-yard, when one sees the millions of eggs which the ovens of Egypt hatch, or with which our Normandy loads the ships and fleets that every year traverse the Channel, one learns to appreciate how the small agencies of domestic economy produce the greatest results.