Hen and chicksInquisitive Jack.CHAPTER II.About the hen and her chickens.Itseems natural for mankind to loveaccumulation. When a child has got two or three pieces of money, he wants more, and his desire of increasing his stores, increases with his little wealth. When a person gets together a few minerals, his wish to form a cabinet begins, and in proportion as his collection enlarges, his eagerness for more specimens is stimulated. This love of increase, is what I call a love ofaccumulation, or a love oflaying up.Nov it is all the same with knowledge. A person who has only a few ideas, is like the child who has only afew coppers; he is usually eager to spend them and get rid of them. But one who has stored his mind with many ideas, is like a person who has commenced a cabinet of minerals: he wishes to increase his collection; he wishes to get new specimens, and is delighted with those which are rare and beautiful.Now, our hero, Jack, was just in this condition: he had begun his mental cabinet of knowledge; he had learned a good deal about insects; and he had entered the gate of a new and beautiful science—Ornithology—or the study of birds. How little did he think that his acquaintance with the wren family had advanced him so far into the delightful mysteries of science. Yet so it was. He now began to notice other birds, such as the blue-bird, which belongs only to America; the sparrows and finches, which build their nests in the hedges and bushes, and sing so sweetly.About this time his attention was very strongly attracted by a hen and her chickens. Jack had himself set the hen; that is, he had put the eggs under her, there being thirteen; for he was told that an even number was unlucky, and an uneven number lucky; a notion, by the way, that is very common, but utterly destitute of foundation. He was told that the eggs would be hatched in just three weeks, and so it proved.It is a curious thing that the eggs of hens should always be hatched in just three weeks, and I must stop to tell you a story about this. A man who pretended to be good and religious, told one of his neighbors that his hens always hatched on Sunday, and he wondered what the reason was. “I can tell you,” said the neighbor; “it is because you set them on Sunday!” Thus we see that the improper conduct of the pretended good man was exposed.But to return to Jack. About the time the hen was to hatch, he went every day to see if the chickens had come along. He could not help wondering at the patience of the old hen, in sitting night and day so faithfully upon her eggs. He noticed that she went off her nest but once a day; that she was then in a great hurry to get a little food and drink, and return to her duty, as if she was afraid her eggs would suffer. He observed that nothing could tempt her from her charge; the other hens were out in the fields, scratching the earth, feasting on worms and insects, and delighting in the spring time; but the old hen, forsaking these pleasures, remained upon her eggs. Though she was wasted by hunger, thirst and fever, nothing could induce her to betray her trust. There she continued, obeying that voice within, which we call instinct.On the twenty-first day of the hen’s sitting, Jack went early in the morning to the nest, and his delight knew no bounds, when he heard, on approaching it, the chickens peeping under the old biddy’s feathers. The good mother herself seemed to be filled with a sort of quiet ecstacy. When she heard the gentle cries of her offspring she endeavored to hush them to rest by a few low notes, as much as tosay,—“Hush, my dear—lie still and slumber.”All this day, the hen remained on her nest, and Jack gave her a little Indian meal mixed with water, to eat. Thenext day, twelve of the thirteen eggs were hatched, and the old hen, with an air of importance, and great caution, set forth with her brood. It was interesting indeed to witness the scene.No sooner had the mother and her flock issued from the shed in which the hatching or incubation had taken place, than she began to scratch away the leaves and grass with all her might. The chickens kept close to her side, and though but a day old, seemed to know perfectly well what it all meant. They picked up the little seeds and insects and swallowed them down, taking care to avoid stones and dirt, and things that are not fit for food. How could these little creatures know so much? That is a curious question, and I can only answer, that God has made them so!The old hen went on from place to place, clucking all the time, and taking the utmost pains to keep her brood together, and under her own immediate inspection. She made her legs fly merrily among the leaves, and many a bug and grub and worm did she discover for her little ones. She would eat nothing herself, but gave everything to her chickens, except once in a while she came across a beetle or other insect, too big for her infant flock, and then she swallowed it.Nothing could exceed the industry, energy and watchfulness of the old biddy. For hours together, she continued to scratch and dig for her young ones, as if life depended upon it. And all this time, it was delightful to see how careful she was of her brood. Her head was bobbing up and down every instant, and her sharp eye was turned on every side, to see if there was danger. Not a bird flew over unmarked, and if it was in any degree threatening in its appearance, the whole flock was instantly drawn to a place of safety. If a cat or dog came near, they were sure to repent it, and learn better manners for the future.When, at last, the young emigrants had filled their little crops, and become weary, the old hen gathered them under her wings. There is nothing in all nature more pleasing than a hen brooding her chickens. The little creatures themselves are marked with a singular smoothness, beauty and look of innocence. Those which are most weary bury themselves deep in the plumage of their mother’s breast, and here, cherished by a genial warmth, embedded in down, and every want and fear appeased, they fall to sleep. Those which are not yet so drowsy, peep out their heads from their mother’s feathers, and look around; or they linger outside and pick among the gravel for food; or they nibble at the old hen’s beak; or perchance they smooth some bit of their delicate plumage that is ruffled; or possibly climb up the old hen’s back. The look of innocence, peace and happiness displayed by the chickens, and the mingled aspect of care and content borne by Mistress Biddy, afford a touching and delightful picture. Who can witness it and not feel that the God of love is the author of what we callnature?All these things were noted by Jack, and after he had observed them a long time, he went for his aunt. He found her quite busy, but he could not be contented till she left her work and wentwith him to see the hen and her chickens. After looking at them a long time, they went to the house, and some days after the following conversation took place:Jack.Pray tell me, aunt Betsey, why the hen that has chickens always keepsclucking?Aunt Betsey.So that the chickens may always know where she is. The chickens are continually running about, and sometimes they go to a considerable distance, but as the hen is always clucking, they can at any time find her. But for this they would inevitably get lost. If the Creator had forgotten to teach hens to cluck, and had neglected to make any other adequate provision, a brood of chickens could never have been raised.J.Well, why do the chickens always keep peeping?Aunt B.So that the hen may know where they are. You will observe that if two or three chickens are wandering together, away from the hen, their peeping is usually faint and low; but if one is straying alone, his tones are loud and distinct. They seem to feel confidence when several are together, but if one is alone, he feels that it is necessary to speak out. The clucking of the hen may be considered as continually calling to her scattered brood, “Here I am, chicks—here I am,” and the peeping of the chickens may be considered as saying, “Here I am, mother—here am I.” In this way, a communication is kept up even while the brood is scattered over a wide space, in search of food. Almost all birds have natural cries, which answer the same purposes with them, as the clucking of the hens and the peeping of the chickens with these.J.Well, aunt Betsey, I observe that the old hen seems totalkto her chickens. If a wren or a sparrow, or any other little harmless bird flies by, the old hen says, “curr-r-r-r-r,” in a moderate tone, as much as to say “look out,” and so all the chicks just cast their eyes around and seem to take no notice of what has happened. But if a hawk appear in the air, and near by, the “curr-r-r-r-r” is uttered in a wilder key. The old hen steps high, and seeks a shelter, and the little chickens run to her as if frightened out of their little wits. Now, what I want to say is, how do the chickens, only two or three days old, know so much and understand so well what their mother means and says?Aunt B.You might as well ask, Jack, how the chickens know so much as to pick up seeds and worms when only a day old. The seeming knowledge of these little creatures, which is often so wonderful, is to be explained, as we explain the skill of the bees in building their cells, and the ants in constructing their little cities in the earth—by instinct—a power or knowledge implanted by nature, or, in other words, by God, the author of nature. He gives those powers; and though we may see their effects, he only can explain their operation. But there is one thing in your observations upon the chickens, to which I wish to call your attention, Jack. Did you ever know the old hen to call to her chickens in danger, when they neglected or disobeyed the call?J.No, not that I remember.Aunt B.Let this, then, be a lessonto you, my boy. The little birds are taught obedience to their parents by God; and they obey. So God has taught children obedience, for he has said in the solemn commandment, “Honor thy father and thy mother;” and the apostle adds, “Children, obey your parents in the Lord, for this is right.” The hen, the parent of the chickens, is their guardian; she knows more than they do; she is stronger, and sees farther, and is wiser than they. It is best for the chickens, therefore, that they should obey her. Were they to neglect her counsel, they would be devoured by prowling beasts or birds of prey. The obedience, therefore, that they are called upon to exercise, is imposed for their good. And just so it is with respect to children; their parents have more experience, knowledge, and wisdom than they have; they know what is best for them. It is, therefore, for the true happiness of children that they should obey their parents.
Hen and chicks
CHAPTER II.
About the hen and her chickens.
Itseems natural for mankind to loveaccumulation. When a child has got two or three pieces of money, he wants more, and his desire of increasing his stores, increases with his little wealth. When a person gets together a few minerals, his wish to form a cabinet begins, and in proportion as his collection enlarges, his eagerness for more specimens is stimulated. This love of increase, is what I call a love ofaccumulation, or a love oflaying up.
Nov it is all the same with knowledge. A person who has only a few ideas, is like the child who has only afew coppers; he is usually eager to spend them and get rid of them. But one who has stored his mind with many ideas, is like a person who has commenced a cabinet of minerals: he wishes to increase his collection; he wishes to get new specimens, and is delighted with those which are rare and beautiful.
Now, our hero, Jack, was just in this condition: he had begun his mental cabinet of knowledge; he had learned a good deal about insects; and he had entered the gate of a new and beautiful science—Ornithology—or the study of birds. How little did he think that his acquaintance with the wren family had advanced him so far into the delightful mysteries of science. Yet so it was. He now began to notice other birds, such as the blue-bird, which belongs only to America; the sparrows and finches, which build their nests in the hedges and bushes, and sing so sweetly.
About this time his attention was very strongly attracted by a hen and her chickens. Jack had himself set the hen; that is, he had put the eggs under her, there being thirteen; for he was told that an even number was unlucky, and an uneven number lucky; a notion, by the way, that is very common, but utterly destitute of foundation. He was told that the eggs would be hatched in just three weeks, and so it proved.
It is a curious thing that the eggs of hens should always be hatched in just three weeks, and I must stop to tell you a story about this. A man who pretended to be good and religious, told one of his neighbors that his hens always hatched on Sunday, and he wondered what the reason was. “I can tell you,” said the neighbor; “it is because you set them on Sunday!” Thus we see that the improper conduct of the pretended good man was exposed.
But to return to Jack. About the time the hen was to hatch, he went every day to see if the chickens had come along. He could not help wondering at the patience of the old hen, in sitting night and day so faithfully upon her eggs. He noticed that she went off her nest but once a day; that she was then in a great hurry to get a little food and drink, and return to her duty, as if she was afraid her eggs would suffer. He observed that nothing could tempt her from her charge; the other hens were out in the fields, scratching the earth, feasting on worms and insects, and delighting in the spring time; but the old hen, forsaking these pleasures, remained upon her eggs. Though she was wasted by hunger, thirst and fever, nothing could induce her to betray her trust. There she continued, obeying that voice within, which we call instinct.
On the twenty-first day of the hen’s sitting, Jack went early in the morning to the nest, and his delight knew no bounds, when he heard, on approaching it, the chickens peeping under the old biddy’s feathers. The good mother herself seemed to be filled with a sort of quiet ecstacy. When she heard the gentle cries of her offspring she endeavored to hush them to rest by a few low notes, as much as tosay,—
“Hush, my dear—lie still and slumber.”
All this day, the hen remained on her nest, and Jack gave her a little Indian meal mixed with water, to eat. Thenext day, twelve of the thirteen eggs were hatched, and the old hen, with an air of importance, and great caution, set forth with her brood. It was interesting indeed to witness the scene.
No sooner had the mother and her flock issued from the shed in which the hatching or incubation had taken place, than she began to scratch away the leaves and grass with all her might. The chickens kept close to her side, and though but a day old, seemed to know perfectly well what it all meant. They picked up the little seeds and insects and swallowed them down, taking care to avoid stones and dirt, and things that are not fit for food. How could these little creatures know so much? That is a curious question, and I can only answer, that God has made them so!
The old hen went on from place to place, clucking all the time, and taking the utmost pains to keep her brood together, and under her own immediate inspection. She made her legs fly merrily among the leaves, and many a bug and grub and worm did she discover for her little ones. She would eat nothing herself, but gave everything to her chickens, except once in a while she came across a beetle or other insect, too big for her infant flock, and then she swallowed it.
Nothing could exceed the industry, energy and watchfulness of the old biddy. For hours together, she continued to scratch and dig for her young ones, as if life depended upon it. And all this time, it was delightful to see how careful she was of her brood. Her head was bobbing up and down every instant, and her sharp eye was turned on every side, to see if there was danger. Not a bird flew over unmarked, and if it was in any degree threatening in its appearance, the whole flock was instantly drawn to a place of safety. If a cat or dog came near, they were sure to repent it, and learn better manners for the future.
When, at last, the young emigrants had filled their little crops, and become weary, the old hen gathered them under her wings. There is nothing in all nature more pleasing than a hen brooding her chickens. The little creatures themselves are marked with a singular smoothness, beauty and look of innocence. Those which are most weary bury themselves deep in the plumage of their mother’s breast, and here, cherished by a genial warmth, embedded in down, and every want and fear appeased, they fall to sleep. Those which are not yet so drowsy, peep out their heads from their mother’s feathers, and look around; or they linger outside and pick among the gravel for food; or they nibble at the old hen’s beak; or perchance they smooth some bit of their delicate plumage that is ruffled; or possibly climb up the old hen’s back. The look of innocence, peace and happiness displayed by the chickens, and the mingled aspect of care and content borne by Mistress Biddy, afford a touching and delightful picture. Who can witness it and not feel that the God of love is the author of what we callnature?
All these things were noted by Jack, and after he had observed them a long time, he went for his aunt. He found her quite busy, but he could not be contented till she left her work and wentwith him to see the hen and her chickens. After looking at them a long time, they went to the house, and some days after the following conversation took place:
Jack.Pray tell me, aunt Betsey, why the hen that has chickens always keepsclucking?
Aunt Betsey.So that the chickens may always know where she is. The chickens are continually running about, and sometimes they go to a considerable distance, but as the hen is always clucking, they can at any time find her. But for this they would inevitably get lost. If the Creator had forgotten to teach hens to cluck, and had neglected to make any other adequate provision, a brood of chickens could never have been raised.
J.Well, why do the chickens always keep peeping?
Aunt B.So that the hen may know where they are. You will observe that if two or three chickens are wandering together, away from the hen, their peeping is usually faint and low; but if one is straying alone, his tones are loud and distinct. They seem to feel confidence when several are together, but if one is alone, he feels that it is necessary to speak out. The clucking of the hen may be considered as continually calling to her scattered brood, “Here I am, chicks—here I am,” and the peeping of the chickens may be considered as saying, “Here I am, mother—here am I.” In this way, a communication is kept up even while the brood is scattered over a wide space, in search of food. Almost all birds have natural cries, which answer the same purposes with them, as the clucking of the hens and the peeping of the chickens with these.
J.Well, aunt Betsey, I observe that the old hen seems totalkto her chickens. If a wren or a sparrow, or any other little harmless bird flies by, the old hen says, “curr-r-r-r-r,” in a moderate tone, as much as to say “look out,” and so all the chicks just cast their eyes around and seem to take no notice of what has happened. But if a hawk appear in the air, and near by, the “curr-r-r-r-r” is uttered in a wilder key. The old hen steps high, and seeks a shelter, and the little chickens run to her as if frightened out of their little wits. Now, what I want to say is, how do the chickens, only two or three days old, know so much and understand so well what their mother means and says?
Aunt B.You might as well ask, Jack, how the chickens know so much as to pick up seeds and worms when only a day old. The seeming knowledge of these little creatures, which is often so wonderful, is to be explained, as we explain the skill of the bees in building their cells, and the ants in constructing their little cities in the earth—by instinct—a power or knowledge implanted by nature, or, in other words, by God, the author of nature. He gives those powers; and though we may see their effects, he only can explain their operation. But there is one thing in your observations upon the chickens, to which I wish to call your attention, Jack. Did you ever know the old hen to call to her chickens in danger, when they neglected or disobeyed the call?
J.No, not that I remember.
Aunt B.Let this, then, be a lessonto you, my boy. The little birds are taught obedience to their parents by God; and they obey. So God has taught children obedience, for he has said in the solemn commandment, “Honor thy father and thy mother;” and the apostle adds, “Children, obey your parents in the Lord, for this is right.” The hen, the parent of the chickens, is their guardian; she knows more than they do; she is stronger, and sees farther, and is wiser than they. It is best for the chickens, therefore, that they should obey her. Were they to neglect her counsel, they would be devoured by prowling beasts or birds of prey. The obedience, therefore, that they are called upon to exercise, is imposed for their good. And just so it is with respect to children; their parents have more experience, knowledge, and wisdom than they have; they know what is best for them. It is, therefore, for the true happiness of children that they should obey their parents.