IN A FISHING COUNTRY 



hens, but such as are taught to seek their 

 meat from God. Within modest but very 

 useful limits, your hen is amazingly 

 weather-wise. Though of mean intellec- 

 tual capacity, she still has room in her head 

 for two ideas. The clash between them 

 develops her meteorological value. Food 

 she must have, but she yearns most con- 

 sumedly to keep dry; and it is given her to 

 know how the future bears on ambitions 

 that are possibly inconsistent. When it 

 rains, and is going to clear, sheltering, she 

 bides her time; but if, disregardful of the 

 rain, she pecks draggledly through it, you 

 may put away your clubs and go home. 

 Where the weather is hopeless, extreme 

 discomfort is preferred before starvation. 

 How convenient to utilize these wits of 

 hers on a dubious day! 'Steward' you 

 telephone the club, 'is it raining?' 'Yes, 

 Sir.' 'Are the hens out?' No, sir.' And 

 you make your way thither, to find the sun 

 shining. 



But even a hen cannot peer very far into 

 the future, and I doubt whether any other 

 beast or bird is greatly wiser. When they 

 make response to on-coming weather that 

 is of a lasting type, they may appear to be 

 foreshadowing more than the immediate 

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