TRUE ANECDOTE OF A HEN. 



She was a beautiful looking fowl, with 

 black, satiny feathers that shone in the 

 sun like burnished steel, and the bright 

 red comb she always wore, gave her a 

 genteel air. Still she did not do her 

 duty as a hen ; she never — so far as we 

 knew — laid an Qgg, and then exultingly 

 told the "yard" of it; and, she never 

 did any scratching for a brood of downy 

 little chicks, although she often pretend- 

 ed to, and if any one admired her, she 

 seemed very proud. When one never 

 does anything for others and only cares 

 to be admired and praised, people get 

 very tired of having that one about ; so 

 the black hen was given away. 



Now the little woman to whom she 

 was sent, had neither children nor pets 

 of any kind and her great heart was full 

 of love for every living thing. So find- 

 ing the hen very tame, she often spent 

 much time stroking the beautiful shiny 

 feathers. "Biddy" was in her glory, and 

 soon became a pampered darling. She 

 walked in and out the house at will and 

 followed the little woman about in her 

 work very much as a cat would have 

 done. 



When her mistress "rested in the rock- 

 ing-chair at noon, the little hen would 

 walk sedately to her side, and with a 

 low, soft "cluck" jump into the com- 

 fortable lap where she was sure of a 

 welcome, and she thoroughly enjoyed 

 the caresses lavished upon her. As the 

 fall and winter nights came on, a perch 

 was made in one corner of the kitchen, 

 "Biddy's carpet" spread on the floor 

 and no fowl ever had a warmer, safer 

 roost. 



Now it happened that a member of the 

 family, who, during the winter evenings 

 earned quite a little mending the neigh- 

 bor's clocks, brought one home to repair. 

 It had a large mahogany case, the lower 

 half of the door holding a mirror. Dur- 

 ing the day this clock set on the floor at 

 one side of the kitchen, and it had not 

 been there long before it was thoroughly 

 investigated by the Httle hen. At the 

 first sight of her reflection, all her feath- 

 ers rose and jealousy and indignation 

 flashed from her eyes. She gave a 

 tweak at the glass, but no feathers flew 

 from that other bird as was expected. 

 First on orre side, then on the other, 

 cocked the little black head. A few 

 steps this way, then that, and gradually 

 she understood that it was her beautiful 

 self she was gazing at. With such an air 

 of gratified vanity she turned her head 

 then picked at a feather or two. looking 

 into the glass in a very self-satisfied 

 manner. This grew to be a daily occu- 

 pation, and ofter she was seen to "prink" 

 by the hour. One day, it so happened 

 that the clock was turned with its face 

 to the wall. In great distress "Biddy" 

 scolded and fussed, ran from one side 

 to the other, and not being able to find 

 her beloved mirror, ran into the next 

 room and tugged so hard at the little 

 womans' dress that she was obliged to 

 stop in her baking, find out the cause of 

 the excitement and then turn the clock 

 around. Biddy then complaisantly took 

 her place before it and began the usual 

 prinking. 



Harriet Cammett Shaw. 



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