146 
BIRDS IN A VILLAGE. 
that unwholesoPxie coop at the back where a dozen 
unhappy birds are usually to be found immured 
for life. These, more fortunate, had ample room to 
run about in, and countless broad shady leaves 
from which to pick the green caterpillar, and red 
tortoise-shaped lady-bird, and parti-coloured fly, 
and soft warm soil in which to bathe in their own 
gallinaceous fashion, and to lie with outstretched 
wings luxuriating by the hour in the genial sun- 
shine. And having seen their free wholesome life, 
I did not reofard the new-laid eojor on the breakfast- 
table with a feeling of repugnance, but ate it with 
a relish. 
I have said that the fowls numbered fifteen; 
five were old birds, and ten were chickens, closely 
alike in size, colour, and general appearance. They 
were not the true offspring of the hen that reared 
them, but hatched from eggs bought from a local 
poultry-breeder. As they advanced in age to their 
teens, or the period in chicken-life corresponding 
to that in which, in the human species, boy and 
girl begin to diverge, their tails grew long, and 
they developed very fine red combs ; but the lady 
of the house, who had been promised good layers 
when she bought the eggs, clung tenaciously to the 
belief that long arching tails and stately crests 
were ornaments common to both sexes in this 
particular breed. By-and-by they commenced to 
