EASY-CHAIR MEMORIES 87 



One of the most curious and comic scenes 

 that I can remember was one probably very 

 rarely witnessed even by dwellers in the country. 

 It was a battle-royal between two flocks of 

 turkeys. 



I was loitering about the orchard watching 

 the doings of our flock, about a score, industri- 

 ously at work under the apple trees. The 

 Sultan of our Turks was strutting about in 

 an unusually excited manner, and working 

 himself up into a great passion. He was 

 animated on this occasion, not by the mere 

 vanity of displaying himself to the admiring 

 gaze of his family, but by a wrathful feeling 

 of insulted dignity. His long cockscomb (or 

 whatever else it is called) and his scarlet wattles 

 hung down over his beak and over his cheeks 

 like flaming flags of wrath. He stamped about 

 with his feet, and trailed the points of his down- 

 stretched wings along the ground : he was in 

 a rage. 



Looking over into the adjoining field I saw 

 our neighbour's flock, and the Sultan thereof 

 was strutting about in the same preposterous 

 way, now and again uttering a loud note of 



