THE BARN. 



lOI 



I sometimes wonder whether the animals ever con- 

 ceive of themselves as being like others of their species 

 whom they recognize so easily. Does a horse, for 

 example, realize that he is like the nag in the lot that 

 whinnered at him as he passed, or is it true of him, 

 as of men, that, as he drinks, he looketh into the mirror 

 of the pool and straightway forgetteth what manner of 

 horse he was? Can it be that chickens have an indi- 

 viduality, so that one should say unto the other, "How 

 can I be without thee, Scragly?" and the other should 

 say unto the one, "How can I be without thee, Top- 

 knot?" I have seen roosters and hens so attached as 

 to have seemingly an affection for one another. It is 

 well known that chicks of the same hatching will roost 

 side by side and stay together long after they have 

 been weaned; and I have noticed two young ones, of 

 different broods, taking walks together, and forming an 

 acquaintanceship which, let us hope, lasted through life, 

 for they kept together day by day and evidently enjoyed 

 one another's companionship. 



Chickens, for some reason, besides foraging on 

 everything else they can lay their bills on, are exceed- 

 ingly fond of the berries of the poison ivy, and I have 

 seen them clamber all over a vine in order to get the 

 last berry. Animals, too, will devour the new fresh 

 leaves of its tips with apparent relish. They are dif- 

 ferently constituted from us, you know. 



There is no tenderer passage in the Bible than that 

 in which Jesus compares His own willingness to forgive 

 Jerusalem with the anxiety of the common barnyard 

 fowl for her younglings, in these words : 



