"Yes, I do," replied Dixey; "and, what is better still, the chickens like me. Why they have got so when I sneak into the hen-house they all begin to cackle, 'I wish I was in Dixey.'"—A. S. Hitchcock.
A southerner, hearing a great commotion in his chicken-house one dark night, took his revolver and went to investigate.
"Who's there?" he sternly demanded, opening the door.
No answer.
"Who's there? Answer, or I'll shoot!"
A trembling voice from the farthest corner:
"'Deed, sah, dey ain't nobody hyah ceptin' us chickens."
A colored parson, calling upon one of his flock, found the object of his visit out in the back yard working among his hen-coops. He noticed with surprise that there were no chickens.