Читать книгу The Four-Masted Cat-Boat, and Other Truthful Tales онлайн

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I admitted the force of his remark, because when a boy I had once set a hen on some green apples, and she had covered them without a murmur for a week, when I took pity on her and replaced them with real eggs. The following day, not liking the feeling of the eggs, she left them, and gathering together the apples that I had left scattered upon the barn floor, she sat on them again.

I told this experience to Mr. Stockton, and he said: “If she’d had a few of our instinct-powders before sitting she would have repudiated the fraud at once. Is it instinct, or the lack of it,” he continued, “that makes a heavy Light Brahma plant a ponderous and feathered foot upon her offspring and listen calmly to their expiring peeps? It’s lack of it; she needs one of our powders.”

I made a mental calculation of the number of chickens that I had seen sacrificed in that way by motherly and good-natured hens who would have felt hurt if you had told them that they did not know how to bring up their young.

We had risen, and were now walking as we talked, and we soon came to Mr. Stockton’s corn-trellises. He is a great believer in climbing, and it was a pretty sight to see his corn waving in the breeze that blew through the trellis netting.