“‘Of course,’ ses the hen, ‘there’s no doubt but we do a lot of good, though we have been neglected. And it makes my heart bleed, when I think of the stupidity of man and his perverted sense of honour. After all those years of preaching and reform, no poet has ever written an ode to a hen or a pig, and all the poets liked their ham and eggs. There was Shakespeare himself,—people thought he forgot nothing, or what he forgot wasn’t worth remembering, but where’s the mention of either hens or pigs in all his highly respected works?’
“’Tis no wonder there is war in the world to-day,’ ses the pig.
“‘Indeed it is not, when married men will spend all their money on finery for their wives, so that they can look better than they really are, and elope with other women’s husbands. Sure, only for the motherly instinct that’s in myself, I would leave my family of ducklings and die by my own hand, but I don’t want one of them to be neglected and feel the pangs of adversity, like yourself and myself,’ ses the hen.
“‘’Tis instinct rather than reason that guides most people. If we were always to act reasonably, people would think we had no sense, at all. However, there’s a compensation in all things, and we can enjoy ourselves in our own old way. And while it is a great consolation to know that we can do a lot of good, it is a greater consolation still to know that we can do a lot of harm as well,’ ses the pig.
“‘Like myself, you share the same sentiments as all good and pious people. The satisfaction of doing harm is the only enjoyment some of us receive for doing good, when our kindness is not appreciated,’ ses the hen.
“‘When I think of all those who suffer from dyspepsia after eating my friends and relations, I ses to myself: “Well, things could be worse even for such as my humble self. You mightn’t have the satisfaction of knowing that there was such a thing as indigestion.” And when I think of what people must pay for pork chops, in a restaurant after the theatre at night, and how they must suffer from cramps, pains in the stomach, and a bursting headache next morning, well then I feel as happy as a wife when she is abusing her fool of a husband for giving her too much of her own way,’ ses the pig.
“‘And when I consider the little nourishment there is in cold storage eggs, and the price the poor lodgers must pay their landladies for them, I feel like dancing a jig on a milestone. And whenever I hear of some one eating a bad egg, disguised by frying it hard in margarine, and seasoning it with salt and pepper, I takes a holiday for myself. Ptomaine poisoning is as good as cramps, or pains in the head, at any time,’ ses the hen.
“‘Of course, when we are really hungry, we don’t care what we eat. I have eaten pieces of my relatives and friends dozen of times, when they were mixed with my food, but to tell the truth it never gave me any trouble. And in many respects I am no better and no worse than those who don’t care how they make their living, so long as they have what they want,’ ses the pig.
“And then two farmers came on the scene, and one ses to the other, as he pointed to the pig with a stick: ‘How much do you want for the beast?’ ses he.
“‘As much as he will fetch,’ ses the owner.