said to me one day, "Now,
my dear, we shall soon have plenty of eggs, for I have been buying a lot
of young chickens." There they were, each one with as many feathers as a
grasshopper, and a chirp not louder. Of course, we looked forward with
pleasant hopes to the period when the first cackle should announce the
milk-white egg, warmly deposited in the hay which we had provided
bountifully. They grew finely, and one day I ventured to remark that our
hens had remarkably large combs, to which Mrs. S. replied, "Yes, indeed,
she had observed that; but if I wanted to have a real treat I ought to
get up early in the morning and hear them crow." "Crow!" said I,
faintly, "our hens crowing! Then, by 'the cock that crowed in the morn,
to wake the priest all shaven and shorn,' we might as well give up all
hopes of having any eggs," said I; "for as sure as you live, Mrs. S.,
our hens are all roosters!" And so they were roosters! They grew up and
fought with the neighbors' chickens, until there was not a whole pair of
eyes on either side of the fence.

A _dog_ is a good thing to have in the country. I have one which I
raised from a pup. He is a good, stout fellow, and a hearty barker and
feeder. The man of whom I bought him said he was thoroughbred, but he
begins to have a mongrel look about him. He is a good watch-dog, though;
for the moment he sees any suspicious-looking person about the premises
he comes right into the kitchen and gets behind the stove. First, we
kept him in the house, and he scratched all night to get out. Then we
turned him out, and he scratched all night to get in. Then we tied him
up at the back of the garden, and he howled so that our neighbour shot
at him twice before daybreak. Finally we gave him away, and he came
back; and now he is just recovering from a fit, in which he has torn up
the patch that has been sown for our spring radishes.

A good, strong gate is a necessary article for your garden. A good,
strong, heavy gate, with a dislocated hinge, so that it will neither
open nor shut. Such a one have I. The grounds before my fence are in
common, and all the neighbors' cows pasture there. I remarked to Mrs.
S., as we stood at the window in a June sunset, how placid and
picturesque the cattle looked, as they strolled about, cropping the
green herbage. Next morning I found the innocent creatures in my
garden. They had not left a green thing in it. The corn in the milk, the
beans on the poles, the young ca