THE HISTORY OF THE HEN FEVER. 109 



Bat with his back close to the open window, my old crower 

 sent forth one of those thundering, unearthly, rolling, gut- 

 tural shrieks, that, once heard, can never be forgotten ! 



The stranger leaped from his chair, and sprang over his 

 hat, as he yelled, 



" Good God ! what 's that?" 



His face was as white as his shirt-bosom. 



" That 's one of the Grey Shanghaes, crowing," I replied. 



" Crou^ ! I beg your pardon," he said; " I don't want 

 any eggs — no ! I 'U leave it to another time. I — a — I. 

 could n't take 'em now ; won't detain you — good-morning, 

 sir," he continued; and, rushing out of my front dooi", he 

 disappeared on "a dead run," as fast as his legs could carry 

 him. And I don't know but he is running yet. He was 

 desperately alarmed, surely ! 



I was so amused at this incident, that I was in a precious 

 poor mood to attend church that morning. And when my 

 friend the minister arose at length, and announced for his 

 text that "the wicked flee when no man pursueth," those 

 words capped the climax for me. 



I jammed my handkerchief into my mouth, until I was 

 nearly suiFocated, as I thought of that wicked fellow who 

 had just been so frightened while in the act of attempting 

 to bargain for fancy hen's eggs on the Sabbath ! 



A Western paper, in alluding to the fever, about this 

 period,, observed that "this modem epidemic has shown 

 10 



