A LITTLE STORY FOR THE LITTLE ONES.
Once on a time there lived in a country farm-yard, a plump, pretty, gay-feathered hen, who among all the fowls was the liveliest scratcher and the merriest cackler, except when she was setting on a nest full of eggs, when she was so cross that there was no coming near her—always squalling and bristling up on the slightest provocation. She had a particular spite against the young pullets who had no such domestic duties to confine them, but could go gadding and cackling about just as they pleased.
She always appeared to be in a terrible hurry to have her brood hatched and started in the world; and those poor weakly or lazy chicks who were the last to get out of their shells, she was apt to treat very unkindly.
One time she sat on ten good eggs, and in one day hatched nine fine chickens. But the shell of the tenth egg remained unbroken for some time longer. At last, after a good deal of pecking and rolling and kicking about, it popped open, and a puny little cockerel crawled out—"peep," "peep"-ing in a scared pitiful way, that ought to have touched any hen-mother's heart. But this proud biddy seeing that he was so small and ugly, and being very angry because he had kept her waiting so long—coolly turned her back on him, and devoted herself to her stronger and prettier children. That night, she refused to brood him, and actually drove him from the nest. If it had been cold weather I think he would have died,—but though such a wee, young thing, he had sense enough to see that if his mother would do nothing for him, he must look out for himself,—and as he could not nestle under her wing, he determined to make the best of her tail-feathers. So under their shelter, he managed to keep tolerably comfortable till morning. After that the hen treated him a little better—but she often scolded him and clawed him, and he led a sad life. Many times, when the children flung crumbs to her and her brood, she would drive this poor little half-starved chick away, and he would run and hide in the currant bushes, and hang his head, and droop his small tail, and may-be wish that he had never been hatched.
Now, it happened that there was also in that farm-yard a good old rooster, who, observing how cruelly the little cockerel was treated, resolved to adopt him. So one day, he took him under his protection; he hunted grain and worms for him, fought for him at meal times, and even brooded him at night, till the unfortunate chick was old enough to roost.
Under his care the puny young cockerel grew strong and handsome, and my little readers will be glad to hear that he always treated his good old rooster-mother with kindness and respect. As for his own mother, you will be glad also to hear that he once had the opportunity of defending her from a fierce rat. He went at it, with beak and spur, and soon drove it bleeding and squealing into its hole.
Then the hen was happy to make up with him; and his brothers and sisters were very fond and proud of him ever after.