THE MOTHER INSTINCT 



"5 



We are both 'old hens' and we must aunt 

 find solace in companionship." what 



Minnie was a devoted friend of Aunt seen 

 Martha and would follow her about like so d 

 a faithful dog. Every night be- - 

 fore going to roost in the wine- 

 sap apple tree she would come to 

 my aunt and cluck persistently 

 till Aunt Martha said, "Good 

 night, Minnie." 



Minnie was glad to be with. 

 Aunt Martha, but she was any- 

 thing but a happy hen, and as 

 time went on, became less atten- 

 tive to her companion. She 

 seemed to grow melancholy and 

 sad. We often found her sitting 

 on the wood pile, so deep in 

 thought that she would barely 

 look up at our salutations. Aunt 

 Martha tried in every way to 

 cheer her up, but she grew more 

 and more thoughtful and down- 

 cast, till at last she was content to 

 go to her roost without her usual 

 "Good night." Some one sug- 

 gested that she might be ill. No 

 ■ — a sick hen is unmistakable. 

 A veterinary may doubt the ill- 

 ness of a horse, and it is not at 

 all uncommon to hear a mother 

 say, "I believe my child is sick," 



but every raiser of chickens 

 know? a sick hen as far as he can 

 see it. Minnie was not ill. The 

 maternal instinct was asserting 

 itself, and at last it crushed all 

 other sentiments and we found 

 her sitting on a nest of eggs. In 

 her eye was a determined fierce- 

 ness which expressed an un- 

 shakable purpose. She had set- 

 tled herself in the nest with the 

 same firmness that the • stout 

 boarding-house lady sits on your 

 trunk till you pay up your ar- 

 rears and make financial apologies 

 for the water pitcher you broke. 



Minnie had invariably shown a 

 preference for the companionship 

 of the human race as against that 

 of her own kind, but now, as we 

 all stood about the nest and my 

 reproachfully said, "Why, Minnie, 

 are you doing?" it was plain to be 

 that Minnie's love for us was not 

 eep as we had made ourselves 



