1907.] MY FRIEND THE HEN. 95 



book contained something of value, as I thought, to one who 

 tried to bring up a hen. I had a Swedish woman Hving on my 

 farm, and do you know that that woman would take hens that I 

 had given up in despair and bring them up so that they would 

 lay eggs. I thought it was a good deal, but it was a fact that 

 she could take the hens and bring them up so that they would 

 lay eggs where I failed. Do you know that that woman vio- 

 lated almost every single rule that has been laid down for the 

 conduct of the business hen, and she would beat me two to one 

 in the production of eggs. That is a fact. I made her a present 

 of a book, and talked with her about it. She admitted a part 

 of it was all right, but she did not follow it, and she did get 

 twice as many eggs as I ever did. Now the question is, how 

 did she do it? I thought of the man who used to come into 

 the charity organization office in Boston when my uncle was in 

 charge of it; come in periodically and want a job. He would 

 hang around until he got the job. There was something 

 peculiar about the man. He would rather work on a woman's 

 farm. If he could get a job working for a woman farmer he 

 would rather do it. It surprised my uncle, because most of 

 those who came to him, if they wanted a job at all, preferred 

 to work with men. Finally he said to him one day, " Why is it 

 that you prefer to work for a woman farmer ? " " Why," the 

 man said, " I have found that the blind side of a woman is the 

 shadiest place for a hired man." Now, I do not know but he 

 is right. Somehow he was able to get on the blind side of a 

 woman. Now I have an idea that old Amy, that Swedish 

 woman, knew how to do the same thing, only she knew how to 

 get on the blind side of a hen. In other words, she understood 

 the hen. She did not know anything about the science of it, 

 but she did understand the hen. She studied the hen, she 

 knew what that little bundle of feathers was. She knew what 

 the hen craved. It was instinct with her rather than science. 

 Sometimes our scientific friends will tell us all about feeding 

 the hen. They figure it out to a single cent, and time after 

 time pretend to tell us just exactly what that hen ought to have. 

 They will tell us what the house ought to be, and what the 

 temperature should be, and give us a lot of information all 

 about it, and you read it, and think it must be so because you 

 cannot disprove it. but to save your life unless a person can 

 get on the blind side of a hen as that old Swedish woman of 



