THE POULTRY-YARD. 7 



poultry-yard, where we are presently surrounded by 

 a numerous tribe of the feathered race, who divert me 

 extremely with their rivalships, their quarrels, and, 

 above all, with the tender care of the hens for their 

 young broods. The moment we enter, all is bustle 

 and noise : each eager to push through the crowd, in 

 order to pick up the first grain that falls from my 

 basket. The king of our yard is remarkably beauti- 

 ful : I cannot describe him better than in the words of 

 Dryden : 



" High was his comb, and coral red withal, 

 In dents embattled like a castle wall ; 

 His bill was raven black, and shone like jet ; 

 Blue were his legs, and orient were his feet j 

 White were his nails, like silver to behold : 

 His body glitt'ring like the burnish'd gold." 



This handsome bird struts about with an air of ma- 

 jesty, attended by the females, who are also very pretty; 

 for Rachel is attentive to bring up those which are 

 the beauties of the brood. To give you the history of 

 one of our days, I should begin with the morning. 1 

 rise at six, three or four hours before my accustomed 

 time : this gives me a day before you are awake, and 

 my health is already improved by it. You would 

 be surprised to see how rosy I am grown. As soon 

 as we are dressed, we all assemble in the common 

 parlour, to hear Mrs. Saville read a chapter in the 



