OUR COUNTRY LIFE 



his success, but I felt no inclination to follow in his 

 footsteps. 



No one could be more enthusiastic than I really feel 

 over the sheep on my neighbor's moors, whether nib- 

 bling the grass at noontime, their funny soft noses work- 

 ing busily, or gathered in masses by the gate at twilight, 

 or moving along the highway in a whir of sun-flecked 

 dust. They always add a certain picturesqueness to the 

 landscape. I even admire — in the distance — my 

 neighbor's small pig-houses scattered over the sunny 

 meadow, where pigs in all stages of development root 

 vigorously. The poultry plant too — of my neighbor 

 — I can appreciate with its carefully heated apart- 

 ments, its rows of bins for food and cleansing materials, 

 its brooders and incubators and specially arranged fat- 

 tening coops. Ducks, geese, Guinea hens, turkeys, 

 pigeons, — in all I take the keenest interest — at my 

 neighbor's; but never with an envious heart. 



So when the first mention of bantams was made to 

 me, I agreed somewhat dubiously as to their charms. 

 Chickens, even bantams, I felt persuaded would mean, 



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