The idea of making, if not a rapid and bulky fortune,
at least "a comfortable living" (and that phrase embodies much) out of
poultry farming has been conceived, possibly, many times and oft.
There was nothing novel, therefore, in the hatching out of this
particular scheme. But for a paltry detail it would never have
attained notoriety. We never blazon our failures--why should we?
The one spark of original thought that enlightened the prosaic
plans of the undertaking was this: The promoters wanted quality
in the eggs of their hens as well as quantity. Quantity rests with
the hen, but quality--like the "sluttishness" of Touchstone's
sweetheart--may come hereafter. In order that there might be no excuse
for and no degeneracy on the part of the hens, shops were ransacked
for nest eggs of proper proportions. These were placed in spots
conspicuous to the hens, who, of course, understood that they were
expected to lay up to them. In other words, these were patterns for the
hens to lay by. No self-respecting, conscientious fowl likes to be
beaten by a nest egg. She goes one, or, it may be, a dozen or two
better; but the stony-hearted egg is never to be bluffed.
Pages:
269
270
271
272
273
274
275
276
277
278
279
280
281
282
283
284
285
286
287
288
289
290
291
292
293