BACON AND EGGS 331 
her satisfaction to the whole yard. It is some- 
thing to be proud of, and the cackling hen knows 
it better than youorl. It can be no hardship 
to push this egg machine to the limit of its 
capacity. It adds new zest to the life of the hen, 
and multiplies her opportunities for well-earned 
self-congratulation. 
Our hens are fed for eggs, and we get what we 
feed for. I said of my hens that I would not 
ask them to lay more than eight dozen eggs each 
year, and I will stick to what I said. But I do 
not reject voluntary contributions beyond this 
number. Indeed, I accept them with thanks, and 
_ give Biddy a word of commendation for her 
gratuity. Eight dozen eggs a year will pay a good 
profit, but if each of my hens wishes to present 
me with two dozen more, I slip 62 cents into my 
pocket and say, “ I am very much obliged to you, 
miss,” or madam, as the case may be. Most of 
my hens do remember me in this substantial way, 
and the White Wyandottes are in great favor 
with the Headman. 
The houses in which my hens live are almost 
as clean as the one I inhabit (and Polly is tidy 
to a degree); their food is as carefully prepared 
as mine, and more punctually served; their ene- 
mies are fended off, and they are never fright- 
ened by dogs or other animals, for the five-acre 
lot on which their houses and runs are built is 
enclosed by a substantial fence that prevents any 
interloping ; book agents never disturb their 
