THE RUMPLESS FOWL. 265 



There lives, in the village of Walton, an old 

 woman notorious for rearing poultry. Her name 

 is Nanny Ackroyd. Some few years ago, I had 

 seen a pair of rumpless fowls feeding at her door. 

 I called on Nanny the other day, and I asked her 

 where she had procured the fowls ; and if they 

 had ever had a brood. She told me, that she 

 had got them from the Isle of Wight ; and that 

 they had produced seven rumpless chickens, which 

 she sold at the Market Cross, in Wakefield ; but 

 that she could not get the full price for them, as 

 her customers did not fancy them, on account of 

 their want of tail. On asking her what had be- 

 come of the parent fowls, she said, that they both 

 suddenly disappeared, a few weeks after she had 

 sold the young ones, at the Market Cross, in Wake- 

 field. Two or three unknown mendicants had 

 been lurking 'in the outskirts of the village; and 

 she was sure the vagabonds had nipped up her poor 

 fowls. 



My own rumpless fowl, mentioned above, came 

 to an untimely end. He was at the keeper's house ; 

 and as the keeper had got a tame fox, I foresaw 

 that some day or other my bird would fall into its 

 clutches. To prevent the impending catastrophe, 

 I sent up one morning to the keeper, and desired 

 that the fowl might be brought down to the hall in 

 the evening. A giant Malay fowl espied it as soon 

 as it had left its roost the next day ; and, indignant 

 at the appearance of such a rival-stranger on the 

 island, he drove it headlong into the water, where 

 it perished before assistance could be procured. 



