ve gone well enough, even though a trifle muscular and somewhat
resilient.

But somehow this was a different proposition. I don't believe I can
explain just why. There was something about the aggregation as a whole
that was discouraging. I suspect William's remark that they must be
eaten "prisently" had something to do with it. Eating those chickens was
not to be an entertainment, a pastime, but a job--a job that increased,
for the "old hins" did not lay, or very sparingly--an egg a day being
about the average. William brought it in solemnly. We had got to devour
that entire flock of chickens, and the thought became daily less
attractive. Even our tribe of precious ones, who had always been
chicken-hungry before, suddenly became indifferent to the idea of
chicken fried, baked, or in fricassee. I said, at last, we would have to
have a series of picnics. Anything would taste good at a picnic.

I don't remember how many we used up in that way, but I know the
business of getting rid of those chickens seemed interminable. We tried
working them off on William and Lena, but even _they_ balked before the
end was reached. I have heard it stated that no one can eat thirty
quails in thirty days. I don't know about that, but I know that when we
tried to put over a dozen chickens on Lena and William in six weeks it
was a failure. At last we were reduced to one old hen, who by general
consent was made immune. Also free. The garden was too far advanced for
her to damage it. The door of the neat wire inclosure was left open for
her to go and come at will. There was danger of foxes at night, but we
did not shut it. The foxes, however, did not come. Even foxes have to
draw the line somewhere. That venerable old lady wandered about the
place, pecking and contentedly singing, and in that part we really
became fond of her. I think she died at last of old age.

II

_I planted some canterbury-bells_

I believe our agriculture may be said to have been successful. William
was a faithful gardener. His corn, beans, pease, and potatoes were
abundant, and all the other good things, whether to eat boiled, raw, or
roasted. Our table was almost embarrassed by these riches, which perhaps
helped us to weaken on the chicken idea.

I think our favorite staple was corn--green sweet corn, carried directly
from the patch to the pot, and from the pot to the table. If you have
not eaten it under these conditions you have never really known what
green