A milkmaid, who poised a full pail on her head, Thus mused on her prospects in life, it is said: "Let me see,—I should think that this milk will procure One hundred good eggs, or fourscore, to be sure.
"Well then,—stop a bit,—it must not be forgotten, Some of these may be broken, and some may be rotten; But if twenty for accident should be detached, It will leave me just sixty sound eggs to be hatched.
"Well, sixty sound eggs,—no, sound chickens, I mean: Of these some may die,—we'll suppose seventeen, Seventeen! not so many—say ten at the most, Which will leave fifty chickens to boil or to roast.
"But then there's their barley: how much will they need? Why, they take but one grain at a time when they feed,— So that's a mere trifle; now then, let us see, At a fair market price how much money there'll be.
"Six shillings a pair—five—four—three-and-six. To prevent all mistakes, that low price I will fix; Now what will that make? fifty chickens, I said,— Fifty times three-and-sixpence—I'll ask Brother Ned.
"O, but stop,—three-and-sixpence a pair I must sell 'em; Well, a pair is a couple,—now then let us tell 'em; A couple in fifty will go (my poor brain!) Why, just a score times and five pair will remain.
"Twenty-five pair of fowls—now how tiresome it is That I can't reckon up so much money as this! Well, there's no use in trying, so let's give a guess,— I'll say twenty pounds, and it can't be no less.
"Twenty pounds, I am certain, will buy me a cow, Thirty geese and two turkeys,—eight pigs and a sow; Now if these turn out well, at the end of a year, I shall fill both my pockets with guineas, 't is clear."
Forgetting her burden, when this she had said, The maid superciliously tossed up her head; When, alas for her prospects! her milk-pail descended, And so all her schemes for the future were ended.
This moral, I think, may be safely attached,— "Reckon not on your chickens before they are hatched."