“Why, those aquilegia formosas, that beautiful circlet of exquisite green that I planted a month ago, and which assiduous care has finally brought to its present vigorous condition,” I rejoined, smiling proudly, although my mind somewhat misgave me as to the vigorous health; “that fertile hot-bed of fragrant beauty, that will furnish the groundwork, with skillful increase, for my entire garden.”
“What!” he demanded, in a surprised tone; “is that what you are talking of?”
“Yes,” I replied, a little confused, but confident still.
“That your beautiful circlet of exquisite green which is to fecundate your entire garden!” At this point he commenced laughing, and, between shouts of merriment and the half-intelligible repetition of “exquisite green,” it was ten minutes before he became comprehensible. “Why, that circlet of exquisite green—” here he burst out again till he nearly choked—“exquisite green is nothing but a lot of wild carrots, that you have watered till you have washed all the life out of them.”
Alas! this turned out to be true. What became of my seeds I never discovered; whether they were drowned out, or burnt up, or raked away, is hard to tell; certain it is that they have not come up to the present time. But the greatest mystery is, why should wild carrots grow in a circle merely to arouse hopes that were to be blasted?
CHAPTER VIII.
POULTRY.
I HAVE a respect for chickens. The hens have the finest qualities of the most exemplary mothers; the cocks possess many of the characteristics, in courage and devotion to “the sex,” of the cavaliers of olden time. Behold the anxious matron ruffling her feathers and expanding her wings in threatening defiance of the approaching stranger, or gathering the little ones under her breast, and exposing her own person to the swooping hawk. Observe the fierce-eyed rooster guarding his mates with zealous care, ever ready to meet in deadly conflict the rival or intruder, but invariably calling his wives to accept any unusual luxury of fat grub or dainty bug. To be sure, they rise early, which the uncultivated regard as a virtue, and make much noise when they wake, crowing at most unseasonable hours; but as for the absurd charges that the prejudiced author of “Ten Acres Enough” brings against them in wholesale condemnation, these are not worth answering.
What if they do scratch in the garden, it was clear that they could not damage mine; and do they not also catch the early worm that destroys the crop? Besides, chickens are good gastronomically, and eggs undeniable. They pick up most of their own food, and consequently are economical, and this, with so careful a calculator as myself, was sufficient. Their increase is vast, and the profit upon them immense. If every hen should only raise five broods yearly of ten each, and there were ten hens to start with, at the end of two years they would number three hundred and forty-four thousand seven hundred and sixty, after the superfluous roosters were sold; and then, supposing the extra eggs to have paid for their keeping, and the produce to be worth only a dollar and a half a pair, there would be a clear profit of $258,520. Allowing for occasional deaths, this sum might be stated in round numbers at a quarter of a million, which would be a liberal increase from ten hens. Of course, I did not expect to do so well as this, but merely mention what might be done with good luck and forcing.
Chickens had become very scarce about the time I wanted to purchase. Whether hens had given up laying eggs or raising young was not clear, but every old woman in the neighborhood to whom application was made informed me that chickens were scarce and high, and that she only let me have them as a special favor. Moreover, the breed of chickens kept at Flushing is rare and valuable; they were either Shanghais, or Dorkings, or Black Spanish, or something else extremely precious and desirable, and none of them were worth less than five dollars a pair. They were young and small, not yet exhibiting these remarkable attractions; but, as one old woman observed when I suggested this circumstance, “Sure you wouldn’t expect a little chicken to be a full-grown hen the moment it comes out of the shell.” This was so clearly reasonable that I made no farther objection, but purchased twenty pair of the best to be had. A coop was built, and the chickens turned in, Patrick remarking, in the process,
“Indade, they were the smallest lot that iver he saw.”