THE RUMPLESS FOWL. 
265 
There lives, in the village of Walton, an old 
woman notorious for rearing poultry. Her name 
is Nanny Ackroyd. Some few years ago, I had 
seen a pair of rumpless fowls feeding at her door. 
I called on Nanny the other day, and I asked her 
where she had procured the fowls ; and if they 
had ever had a brood. She told me, that she 
had got them from the Isle of Wight ; and that 
they had produced seven rumpless chickens, which 
she sold at the Market Cross, in Wakefield ; but 
that she could not get the full price for them, as 
her customers did not fancy them, on account of 
their want of tail. On asking her what had be- 
come of the parent fowls, she said, that they both 
suddenly disappeared, a few weeks after she had 
sold the young ones, at the Market Cross, in Wake- 
field. Two or three unknown mendicants had 
been lurking in the outskirts of the village; and 
she was sure the vagabonds had nipped up her poor 
fowls. 
My own rumpless fowl, mentioned above, came 
to an untimely end. He was at the keeper's house ; 
and as the keeper had got a tame fox, I foresaw 
that some day or other my bird would fall into its 
clutches. To prevent the impending catastrophe, 
I sent up one morning to the keeper, and desired 
that the fowl might be brought down to the hall in 
the evening. A giant Malay fowl espied it as soon 
as it had left its roost the next day ; and, indignant 
at the appearance of such a rival-stranger on the 
island, he drove it headlong into the water, where 
it perished before assistance could be procured. 
