208 The Hen at Work 



a little humor to a sad situation. Some said this, 

 some said that. 



To one specialist, an official in my home State, 

 I sent a whole bird for post mortem. Of course I 

 did it up as neatly as possible. It transpired that 

 he had lately married, and the postman thought it 

 wise to deliver this attractive parcel at the house. 

 Had the happy pair realized how dead in earnest I 

 was they would have spoken more kindly, I'm sure. 



The note I had from Raymond Pearl, then at 

 Orono, now perhaps our leading poultry biologist, 

 was good. He couldn't make out what ailed my 

 birds, "but," he said, "it is undoubtedly a very 

 disease." I could tell by the note that he was 

 training a new typewriter, so I forgave him. 



My wife finally came to the rescue. The hens 

 would eat nothing. She watched them, trying first 

 one food and then another. At last she said 

 suddenly: "What about rice, and rice water?" 

 A physician in France had cured our baby of a bad 

 diarrhea almost instantly by mixing boiled rice 

 water with his milk. 



She boiled some rice, and put the water and 

 boiled rice beforei them. They ate and drank 

 freely, perked up, and soon recovered. 



