No. 18.
G.P. Burnham, Esq.:
I have got a Shanghae cock weighing 15-1/2 pounds, and I want a few hens to match him. Can you supply me? My crower stands three feet four inches high, and his middle toe measures 7-1/2 inches in length. What do you think of that? I want six twelve-pound hens. Dr. Bennett can supply me, I presume; but I want pure-bred stock. I have no doubt my crower will weigh eighteen or nineteen pounds, at two years old; he is now only eight months old! Let me hear from you.
Resp'y, —— — ——.
No. 19.
Mr. Burnham:
I always took you to be a man of honor, and I supposed you knew (if anybody did) what a Cochin-China fowl was, because you imported your stock. Now, those you sent me, and for which I willingly paid you $40 for the three, are feathered on the legs; this should not be, of course. How is this? They are fine, but I am certain they can be nothing but mere Shanghae fowls. Let me know about this, will you?
Yours, &c.
—— — ——.
No. 20.
My Dear Sir:
I hardly know what to write you about the stock I had of you, six months ago, for "Cochin-Chinas." That they are not Cochins I feel positive, however; for one half the chickens came smooth-legged, and the rest are heavily-feathered on the legs!! I consider them only Shanghaes, and now I want to know if you can send me a trio of pure bloods, that you know to be Cochins. If so, I care nothing about price. I want blood. "Blood tells," you know. Let me hear from you, and state your own views in this matter. I will be governed by your advice. Enclosed is ten dollars for a dozen of your "Cochin" eggs—pure, you know.
In haste,
Yours truly, —— ——.
No. 21.
Mr. Burnham.
Sir: Do you call yourself a man of honor? I bought one doz. Cochin-China eggs of you, for which I paid you six dollars, cash. I set them, and I got but ten chickens out of them (two eggs I found rotten, in the nest). Every one of these chicks are cocks, sir—cocks! Now, what the devil can I do, do you imagine, with ten cocks? I want to breed fowls. That is what I bought the eggs for; to begin right. You must have known better than this. Anybody could have seen that these were all male eggs. I saw it, at once (I remember), but I hoped I was mistaken. What do you propose to do about this? Let me know, at once, without fail.
In haste,
—— — ——.
No. 22.
Sir: You may think well of the Cochin-China fowls,—I don't. Those you sent me are long-legged, and there are no feathers on their legs, or feet, as there ought to be. I know what a Cochin-China fowl is, too well to be deceived in this way. I will keep them. You are a humbug. You are welcome to the thirty dollars I paid you. I don't ask you to return it. I don't want it. I can get along very well without it. You need it. Keep it. Much good may it do you!
In haste,
—— ——.
P.S. Don't you wish you may get another $30 out of me, that way? O, yes—I guess you will—ha! ha!
No. 23.
Mr. Barman. Dear Sir: I see in the Poultry Books that the Cotchin-China fowls lays two eggs every day,[9] and sometimes three a-day. I have hens that lays two eggs a-day, frequenly, but I want to get the breed that will lay three eggs a-day, reglar. If you have got anny of the Cotchins that you know lays three eggs a-day, I would like to get a few, at a fair price. I don't pay no fancy prices for 'em, though. The hen fever won't larst forever, I don't believe; and then when its busted up, what's the fowls good for, even if they do lay three eggs a-day? Let me hear from you,—but don't send any fowls unless you are sure they lay three eggs every day!
Yours, &c.,
—— ——.
No. 24.
Mr. Burnham.—Sir: I am a gentleman, and I have no disposition to be fractious. I sent you twelve dollars, in a letter, for a dozen "Cotchin" eggs, and I set them. After waiting twenty-three days, I found two grizzled-colored chickens in the nest yesterday, both of them with huge top-knots on their polls! What does this mean? Am I to be swindled out of my money thus? By return of mail if you do not refund my money, if I live I will prosecute you, if it costs me a thousand dollars. You may rely on this. I am not a man to be trifled with, and I refer you to Messrs. —— & ——, who know me; you evidently do not!
In haste,
—— ——.
[I did not reply to this spicy favor, because, if the gentleman really was not a "fractious" man, I imagined he would like his pure-bred chickens better as they grew up; and, besides, I could afford to wait for "a gentleman" to cool off. I never heard from him, afterwards; and concluded that he didn't live to carry out his laudable intention of expending a thousand dollars in prosecuting me! I trust that, before he departed, he became hopefully pious. Peace to his manes!]
No. 25.
Sir: Them fouls you sent me, got the sore-hed. I gin em tuppentyn and unyuns and brandy, but it want no use. The poletry books sed so, and I follered the direction, and it killed 'em both deader'n thunder, in one night! Now you've gut my mony, and I haint narry fowls. What'll I do? Don't you think this a pooty impersition? Send me another pear, to once—if you don't want fits.
In haist,
—— ——.
[I sent this man "another pear,"—only I didn't!]
The foregoing are only a very few samples of hundreds upon hundreds of similar letters I constantly received, for nearly five years.
All the blame occasioned by careless express-men, of false blood imposed upon me originally, of tardy hens, of the hatching or non-hatching of eggs transported hundreds of miles, of feathered legs upon chickens, or the absence of them, of every species of mishap that could by any possibility befall the fancier and amateur, through his own ignorance or errors,—every kind of mistake was charged to me! But, with a Christian meekness, I bore it all.
I was threatened with civil prosecutions, with the House of Correction, the State Prison, the Penitentiary, and all sorts of other punishments, for my remissness; but I submitted with a quiet resignation, because "the people" were so deeply engaged in this pursuit, and everybody now had the fever so shockingly, that I sympathized with all mankind, and attributed these trifling ebullitions of ill-will, or raving, to the spasms caused by the prevalence and the severity of the epidemic.
On the other hand, I was so often cheered on in my labors of love by the kind consideration of a very different sort of patrons, that I did not sink under the persecution of those who would gladly have floored me, could the thing have been readily accomplished. I pocketed the money of my customers, however, bred good fowls, followed up the trade sharply, and found myself sailing easily along, in spite of the contemptible and small-fry opposition of which I was continually the object. As an agreeable offset to the complaints and murmurings in certain quarters, the following few letters will tell their own story:
From Hon. Henry Clay.
Ashland, 1851.
Geo. P. Burnham, Esq., Boston.
My dear Sir: I duly received your obliging letter, informing me that you had sent by the Express of Messrs. Adams & Co. a cage containing four fowls for me, and I postponed acknowledging it until the fate of the fowls should be ascertained. I have now the satisfaction to advise you that they all reached here safely.
They have been greatly admired, not only for their enormous size, but for their fine proportions and beautiful plumage. I thank you, my dear sir, most cordially, for this very acceptable present. It has been my aim, for many years, to collect at this place the best improved breeds of the horse, the cow, the sheep, swine and the ass—though the last, not the least valuable, in this mule-raising state.
To my stock on hand your splendid Cochin-China fowls will be a congenial and valuable addition; and, if we succeed with them, I will take care not to monopolize the benefit of them. I am greatly obliged to you, and,
With high respect, I am
Your obd't servant,
H. Clay.
From Gov. Geo. N. Briggs.
Pittsfield, 1851.
My Dear Sir:
The cage of Cochin-China chickens you were kind enough to send, reached me in safety; and I am much obliged to you for this favor.
They are, beyond comparison, the finest domestic fowls I have ever seen, and I shall breed them with such care that I hope to be able to give you a good account of them in the future.
They are very much liked by all who have seen them, and you will please accept my thanks for your attention.
I am, resp'y, yours,
Geo. N. Briggs.
From Hon. Daniel Webster.
Marshfield, 1851.
G.P. Burnham, Esq.
Dear Sir: The coop of chickens arrived safely, and are noble specimens of the Chinese fowl. You will rarely meet with samples apparently so well bred, and they will do any one credit. I thank you for the consignment, and consider them a most valuable addition to my stock of poultry. Accept my best wishes, and believe me, dear sir,
Yours, very truly,
Daniel Webster.
From Hon. Col. Phipps, H.R.M. Secretary.
Windsor Castle, Eng., 1853.
Dear Sir:
The cage of Grey Shanghae fowls intended as a present from you to Her Majesty the Queen has this day been received from Mr. Mitchell, of the Zoological Gardens, and they have been highly admired by Her Majesty.
I have received Her Majesty's commands to assure Mr. Burnham of her high appreciation of his attention; and to add that it affords another addition to the many marks of good will from the citizens of the United States which the Queen has received, and to which Her Majesty attaches so high a value.
I have the honor to be
Your ob't and humble ser't,
C.B. Phipps.
Similar documents were often received by me, from friends and customers who knew how to appreciate good stock; and I have now hundreds of letters on file, of the most flattering character,—from every State in the Union, from England, Ireland, France, Bavaria, etc., where my stock was sent, and was roundly paid for,—all of which letters (with their enclosures, from time to time) served amply to "balance accounts" against the few received of an opposite character, and aided materially, also, to keep "the subscriber" from caving in!
Among the most friendly customers I ever had, and those who bought the most liberally,—while they were the most kindly in all their intercourse with me,—I must mention my patrons of the South generally, but especially the buyers in New Orleans and its vicinity. I never met with a trickster amongst them, and they paid me thousands upon thousands of dollars, without a word of cavil or complaint, from first to last. These fanciers had long purses, and are live men, with hearts "as big as a barn," so far as my experience goes.
There was something tangible, and real, in the "Cochin-China" fowl,—something that could be seen and realized (precious little, to be sure!), but still there was something. The Cochin-China hens would lay eggs (occasionally), and when they didn't breed their chickens with feathers upon the legs, they came without them. If the legs were not black or green skinned, they were either yellow or some other color. Their plumage was either spotted and speckled, or it wasn't. And thus the true article, the pure-bred Cochins, could always be designated and identified,—by the knowing ones,—I presume. I studied them pretty carefully, however, for five years; but I never knew what a "Cochin-China" fowl really was, yet!
But when, in 1850 and '51, the "Bother'ems" begun to be brought into notice, I saw at once that, although this was bubble number two, it ought to have been number one, decidedly.
Never was a grosser hum promulgated than this was, from beginning to end, even in the notorious hum of the hen-trade. There was absolutely nothing whatever in it, about it, or connected with it, that possessed the first shade of substance to recommend it, saving its name. And this could not have saved it, but from the fact that nobody (not even the originator of the unpronounceable cognomen himself) was ever able to write or spell it twice in the same manner.
The variety of fowl itself was the Grey Chittagong, to which allusion has already been made, and the first samples of which I obtained from "Asa Rugg" (Dr. Kerr), of Philadelphia, in 1850. Of this no one now entertains a doubt. They were the identical fowl, all over,—size, plumage and characteristics.
But my friend the Doctor wanted to put forth something that would take better than his "Plymouth Rocks;" and so he consulted me as to a name for a brace of grey fowls I saw in his yard. I always objected to the multiplying of titles; but he insisted, and finally entered them at our Fitchburg Dépôt Show as "Burrampooters," all the way from India.
These three fowls were bred from Asa Rugg's Grey Chittagong cock, with a yellow Shanghae hen, in Plymouth, Mass. They were an evident cross, all three of them having a top-knot! But, n'importe. They were then "Burrampooters."
Subsequently, these fowls came to be called "Buram-pootras," "Burram Putras," "Brama-pooters," "Brahmas," "Brama Puters," "Brama Poutras," and at last "Brahma Pootras." In the mean time, they were advertised to be exhibited at various fairs in different parts of the country under the above changes of title, varied in certain instances as follows: "Burma Porters," "Bahama Paduas," "Bohemia Prudas," "Bahama Pudras." And, for these three last named, prizes were actually offered at a Maryland fair, in 1851!
The following capital sketch (which appeared originally in the Boston Carpet-Bag) is from the pen of the late Secretary of the Mutual Admiration Society,—a gentleman, and a very happy writer in his way. It gives a faithful and accurate description of what many of these monsters really were, and will be read with gusto by all who have now come to be "posted up" in the secrets of the hen-trade.
The editor of the above-named journal remarks that "as our Carpet-Bag contains something connected with everything under the sun, we have abstracted therefrom a chapter on chicken-craft, which embraces a very important detail of that most abstruse science. When our readers scan the beautiful proportions of the stately fowl that roosts at the head of this article, they will acknowledge that we have some right to cackle because of the good fortune we have had in securing such an uneggsceptionable picture, exhibiting the very perfection of cockadoodledom. Isn't he a beauty, this Bother'em Pootrum?
"Examine his altitude! Observe the bold courage that stands forth in his every lineament! There is no dunghill bravery there! See what symmetry floats round every detail of his noble proportions! What kingly grace associates with the comb that adorns his head as it were a crown! What fire there is in his eye! With what proud bearing does he not wear his abbreviated posterior appendage! Looking at the latter, we, and every one knowing in hen-craft, will readily exclaim, 'Gerenau de Montbeillard! you must have been a most unmitigated muff to designate that beautiful fowl the gallus ecaudatus, or tailless rooster.' For ourselves, our indignity teaches us to say, 'Mons. M.! your Essai sur Historie Nat. des Gallinacæ Fran. tom. ii., pp. 550 et 656, is a humbug!' We know that the universal world will sympathize in our sentiment on this point."
Peter Snooks, Esq. (a correspondent of this journal), it appears, had the honor to be the fortunate possessor of this invaluable variety of fancy poultry, in its unadulterated purity of blood. He furnished from his own yard samples of this rare and desirable stock for His Royal Highness Prince Albert, and also sent samples to several other noted potentates, whose taste was acknowledged to be unquestionable, including the King of Roratonga, the Rajah of Gabble-squash, His Majesty of the Cannibal Islands, and the Mosquito King. Peter supplies the annexed description of the superior properties of this variety of fowls:
"The Bother'em Pootrums are generally hatched from eggs. The original pair were not; they were sent from India, by way of Nantucket, in a whale-ship.
"They are a singularly pictur-squee fowl from the very shell. Imagine a crate-full of lean, plucked chickens, taking leg-bail for their liberty, and persevering around Faneuil Hall at the rate of five miles an hour, and you have an idea of their extremely ornamental appearance.
"They are remarkable for producing bone, and as remarkable for producing offal. I have had one analyzed lately by a celebrated chemist, with the following result:
| Feathers and offal, | 39.00 |
| Bony substances, | 50.00 |
| Very tough muscle and sinew, | 09.00 |
| Miscellaneous residuum, | 02.00 |
| ——— | |
| 100.00" |
A peculiarly well-developed faculty in this extraordinary fine breed of domestic fowls is that of eating. "A tolerably well-fed Bother'em will dispose of as much corn as a common horse," insists Mr. S——. This goes beyond me; for I have found that they could be kept on the allowance, ordinarily, that I appropriated daily to the same number of good-sized store hogs. As to affording them all they would eat, I never did that. O, no! I am pretty well off, pecuniarily, but not rich enough to attempt any such fool-hardy experiment as that!
But Snooks is correct about one thing. They are not fastidious or "particular about what they eat." Whatever is portable to them is adapted to their taste for devouring. Old hats, India-rubbers, boots and shoes, or stray socks, are not out-of-the-way fare with them. They are amazingly fond of corn, especially a good deal of it. They will eat wheaten bread, rather than want.
They are very inquisitive in their nature. Their habit of stalking around the dwelling-house, and popping their heads into the garret-windows, is evidence of this peculiar trait.
Their flesh is firm and compact, and requires a great deal of eating to do it justice. Like Barney Bradley's leather "O-no-we-never-mention-'ems," when cut up and stewed for tripe, "a fellow could eat a whole bushel of potatoes to the plateful." It is of the color of a stale red herring, and very much like that edible in taste. Its scarcity constitutes its value.
This rara avis in terris grows to a height somewhere between .00 feet .16 inches and 25 feet. Its weight somewhat between .06 pounds and 1 cwt. It never lays, except when it rolls itself in the sand. The female fowls sometimes do that duty, though amazingly seldom.
Mr. Snooks says he will back his Bother'em, for a chicken-feast, to outcrow any three asthmatical steam-whistles that any railroad company can scare up; and adds, "I am ashamed of the prejudice which makes my fellow-men unjust. The Fowl Society—the New England organization, I mean—repudiate the special merits of my Bother'em Pootrums, and tell me that their ideas of improvement go entirely contrary to the propriety of tolerating my noble breed of fowls. Disgustibus non disputandum, as Shakspeare, or somebody for him, emphatically says,—which means, 'Every one to his taste, as the old lady said when she kissed the cow.' One thing it will not be hard to prove, I think; that is, simply the probability of something like envy operating among the members of the Hen Society, on account of the exclusive attention paid my Bother'ems at the late Fowl Fairs in Boston,"—where the 'squire's contributions did rather "astonish the boys" who were not thoroughly acquainted with the excellent qualities of these birds. Verily, Snooks' "Bother'ems" did bother 'em exceedingly!
From the outset of my experience in the final attack of the hen fever, I took advantage of every possible opportunity to disseminate the now world-wide known fact that nobody else but myself possessed any "pure-bred" poultry! I could have proved this by the affidavits of more than a thousand "disinterested witnesses," at any time after April and May, 1851, had I been called upon so to do. But as no one doubted this, there was then no controversy.
But, as time wore along, competition became rife, and the foremost chicken-raisers began to look about them for the readiest means obtainable with which to cut each other's throats; not "with a feather," by any means, because that would have "smelt of the shop;" but whenever, wherever, or however, their neighbors could be traduced, maligned, vilified, or injured (in this pursuit), they embraced the opportunity, and followed it up, without stint, especially towards my humble self, until most of them, fortunately, broke their own backs, and were compelled to retire from the field, while "the people" grinned, and comforted them with the friendly assurance that it "sarved 'em right."
At the Fitchburg Dépôt Show, in 1850, my original "Grey Chittagongs" (already described) were in the possession of G.W. George, Esq., of Haverhill, to whom they had been sold by the party to whom I had previously sold them. Nobody thought well of them; but they took a first prize there, and the "Chittagongs" (so entered at the same time) of Mr. Hatch, of Connecticut, also took a prize. My friend the Doctor then insisted that these were also "Burrampooters;" but, as nobody but himself could pronounce this jaw-cracking name, it was taken little notice of at that time.
Mr. Hatch had a large quantity of the Greys at this show, which sold readily at $12 to $20 the pair; and immediately after this exhibition the demand for "Grey Chittagongs" was very active. I watched the current of the stream, and I beheld with earnest sympathy the now alarming symptoms of the fever. "The people" had suffered a relapse in the disease, and the ravages now promised to become frightful—for a time!
An ambitious sea-captain arrived at New York from Shanghae, bringing with him about a hundred China fowls, of all colors, grades, and proportions. Out of this lot I selected a few grey birds, that were very large, and (consequently) "very fine," of course. I bred these, with other grey stock I had, at once, and soon had a fine lot of birds to dispose of—to which I gave what I have always deemed their only true and appropriate title (as they came from Shanghae), to wit, Grey Shanghaes.
In 1851 and '52 I had a most excellent "run of luck" with these birds. I distributed them all over the country, and obtained very fair prices for them; and, finally, the idea occurred to me that a present of a few of the choicest of these birds to the Queen of England wouldn't prove a very bad advertisement for me in this line. I had already reaped the full benefit accruing from this sort of "disinterested generosity" on my part, toward certain American notables (whose letters have already been read in these pages), and I put my newly-conceived plan into execution forthwith.
I then had on hand a fine lot of fowls, bred from my "imported" stock, which had been so much admired, and I selected from my best "Grey Shanghae" chickens nine beautiful birds. They were placed in a very handsome black-walnut-framed cage, and after having been duly lauded by several first-rate notices in the Boston and New York papers, they were duly shipped, through Edwards, Sanford & Co.'s Transatlantic Express, across the big pond, addressed in purple and gold as follows:
| Top border of label. | ||
| Side border of label. | TO H.M.G. MAJESTY,
Victoria,
QUEEN OF GREAT BRITAIN. To be Delivered at Zoological Gardens, —— FROM GEO. P. BURNHAM, BOSTON, MASS., U.S.A. |
Side border of label. |
| Bottom border of label. | ||
The fowls left me in December, 1852. The London Illustrated News of January 22d, 1853, contained the following article in reference to this consignment:
"By the last steamer from the United States, a cage of very choice domestic fowls was brought to Her Majesty Queen Victoria, a present from George P. Burnham, Esq., of Boston, Mass. The consignment embraced nine beautiful birds—two males and seven pullets, bred from stock imported by Mr. Burnham direct from China. The fowls are seven and eight months old, but are of mammoth proportions and exquisite plumage—light silvery-grey bodies, approaching white, delicately traced and pencilled with black upon the neck-hackles and tips of the wings and tails. The parent stock of these extraordinary fowls weigh at maturity upwards of twenty-three pounds per pair; while their form, notwithstanding this great weight, is unexceptionable. They possess all the rotundity and beauty of the Dorking fowl; and, at the same age, nearly double the weight of the latter. They are denominated Grey Shanghaes (in contradistinction to the Red or Yellow Shanghaes), and are considered in America the finest of all the great Chinese varieties. That they are a distinct race, is evident from the accuracy with which they breed, and the very close similarity that is shown amongst them; the whole of these birds being almost precisely alike, in form, plumage and general characteristics. They are said to be the most prolific of all the Chinese fowls. At the time of their shipment, these birds weighed about twenty pounds the pair."
This was a very good beginning. In another place (see page 88) I have given a copy of the letter from Hon. Col. Phipps, her Majesty's Secretary of the Privy Purse, acknowledging the receipt of this present. A few weeks afterward, the London News contained a spirited original picture of seven of the nine Grey Shanghae fowls which I had the honor to forward to Queen Victoria. The drawing was made by permission of the Queen, at the royal poultry-house, from life, by the celebrated Weir, and the engraving was admirably executed by Smythe, of London. The effect in the picture was capital, and the likenesses very truthful. In reference to these birds, the News has the following:
"Grey Shanghae Fowls for Her Majesty.—In the London Illustrated News for January 22d, we described a cage of very choice domestic fowls, bred from stock imported by Mr. George P. Burnham, of Boston, Mass., direct from China, and presented by him to Her Majesty. We now engrave, by permission, these beautiful birds. They very closely resemble the breed of Cochin-Chinas already introduced into this country, the head and neck being the same; the legs are yellow and feathered; the carriage very similar, but the tail being more upright than in the generality of Cochins. The color is creamy white, slightly splashed with light straw-color, with the exception of the tail, which is black, and the hackles, which are pencilled with black. The egg is the same color and form as that of the Cochins hitherto naturalized in this country. These fowls are very good layers, and have been supplying the royal table since their reception at the poultry-house, at Windsor."
All this "helped the cause along" amazingly. It proved a most excellent mode of advertising my "superb," "magnificent," "splendid," "unsurpassable," "inapproachable" Grey Shanghaes.
The above articles found their way (somehow or other) into the papers of this country immediately; and, within sixty days afterwards, the price of "Bother'ems" went up from $12 and $15 to $50, $75, $100, and $150, the pair!!
"Cochin-Chinas" were now nowhar! But I was so as to be about yet.
While this cage of Grey Shanghaes stood for an hour or two in the express-office of Adams & Co., in Boston, a servant came from the Revere House to inform me that "a gentleman desired to see me there, about some poultry."
As I never had had occasion to run round much after my customers, and, moreover, as I felt that the dignity of the business—(the dignity of the hen-trade!)—might possibly be compromised by my responding in person to this summons, I directed the servant to "say to the gentleman, if he wished to see me, that I should be at my office, No. 26 Washington-street, for a couple of hours,—after that, at my residence in Melrose."
The man retired, and half an hour afterwards a carriage stopped before my office-door. The gentleman was inside. He invited me to ride with him—(I could afford to ride with him)—to Adams & Co.'s office. He had seen the "Grey Shanghaes" intended for the Queen there.
"I want that cage of fowls," he said.
"My dear sir," I replied, "they are going to England."
"I want them. What will you take for them?"
"I can't sell them, sir."
"You can send others, you know."
"No, sir. I can't dispose of these, surely."
"Can you duplicate this lot?"
"Pretty nearly—perhaps not quite."
"I see," he continued. "I will give you two hundred dollars for them."
"No, sir."
"Three hundred—come!"
"I can't sell them."
"Will you take four hundred dollars for the nine chickens, sir?" he asked, drawing his pocket-book in presence of a dozen witnesses.
I declined, of course. I couldn't sell these identical fowls; for I had an object in view, in sending them abroad, which appeared to me of more consequence than the amount offered—a good deal.
"Will you name a price for them?" insisted the stranger.
I said, "No, sir—excuse me. I would not take a thousand dollars for these birds, I assure you. Their equals in quality and number do not live, I think, to-day, in America!"
"I won't give a—a—thousand dollars, for them," he said, slowly. "No, I won't give that!" and we parted. Yet, I have no doubt, had I encouraged him with a prospect of his obtaining them at all, he would have given me a thousand dollars for that very cage of fowls! To this extent did the hen fever rage at that moment.
I subsequently sent this gentleman two trios of my grey chickens, for which he paid me $200.
And now the Grey Shanghae trade commenced in earnest. Immediately after the announcements were made (which I have quoted) orders poured in upon me furiously from all quarters of this country, and from Great Britain. Not a steamer left America for England, for months and months, on board of which I did not send more or less of the "Grey Shanghaes." From every State in the Union, my orders were large and numerous; and letters like the following were received by me almost every day, for months:
"G.P. Burnham.
"Sir: I have just seen the pair of superb Grey Shanghae fowls which you sent to Mr. —— ——, of this city, and I want a pair like them. If you can send me better ones, I am willing to pay higher for them. He informs me that your price per pair is forty dollars. I enclose you fifty dollars; do the best you can for me, but forward them at once,—don't delay.
Yours, &c.,
"—— —— ——."
I almost always had "better ones." That was the kind I always kept behind, or for my own use. I rarely sent away these better ones until they cried for 'em! I always had a great many of the "best" ones, too; which were even better than those "better" ones for which the demand had come to be so great!
Strange to say, everybody got to want better ones, at last; and, finally, I had none upon my premises but this very class of birds—to wit, the "better ones." To be sure, I reserved a very few pairs of the best ones, which could be obtained at a fair price; but these were the ones that would "take down" the fanciers, occasionally, who wanted to beat me with them at the first show that came off. But I didn't sleep much over this business. I always had one cock and three or four hens that the boys didn't see—until we got upon the show-ground. Ha, ha!
A stranger called at my house, one Sunday morning, just as I was ready with my family for church. He apologized for coming on that day, but couldn't get away during the week. He had never seen the Grey Shanghaes—didn't know what a Chinese fowl was—had no idea about them at all. He wanted a few eggs—heard I had them—wouldn't stop but a moment—saw that I was just going out, &c. &c. He sat down—was sorry to trouble me—wouldn't do so again—would like just to take a peep at the fowls—when, suddenly, as he sat with his back close to the open window, my old crower sent forth one of those thundering, unearthly, rolling, guttural shrieks, that, once heard, can never be forgotten!
The stranger leaped from his chair, and sprang over his hat, as he yelled,
"Good God! what's that?"
His face was as white as his shirt-bosom.
"That's one of the Grey Shanghaes, crowing," I replied.
"Crow! I beg your pardon," he said; "I don't want any eggs—no! I'll leave it to another time. I—a—I couldn't take 'em now; won't detain you—good-morning, sir," he continued; and, rushing out of my front door, he disappeared on "a dead run," as fast as his legs could carry him. And I don't know but he is running yet. He was desperately alarmed, surely!
I was so amused at this incident, that I was in a precious poor mood to attend church that morning. And when my friend the minister arose at length, and announced for his text that "the wicked flee when no man pursueth," those words capped the climax for me.
I jammed my handkerchief into my mouth, until I was nearly suffocated, as I thought of that wicked fellow who had just been so frightened while in the act of attempting to bargain for fancy hen's eggs on the Sabbath!
A Western paper, in alluding to the fever, about this period, observed that "this modern epidemic has shown itself in our vicinity within a short time, and is characterized by all the peculiarities which have marked its ravages elsewhere. Some of our most valuable citizens are now suffering from its attacks, and there is no little anxiety felt for their recovery. The morning slumbers of our neighbors are interrupted by the sonorous and deep-toned notes of our Shanghae Chanticleer, and various have been the inquiries as to how he took 'cold,' and what we gave him for it. 'Chittagongs' and 'Burma Porters' are now as learnedly discussed as 'Fancy Stocks' on change.
The N.Y. Scientific American stated, at this time, that the "Cochin-China fowl fever was then as strong in England as in some parts of New England,—in fact, stronger. One pair exhibited there was valued at $700. What a sum for a hen and rooster! The common price of a pair is $100," added this journal; and still the trade continued excellent with me.
There now seemed to be no limit whatever to the prices that fanciers would pay for what were deemed the best samples of fowls. For my own part, from the very commencement I had been considerate and merciful in my charges. True, I had been taken down handsomely by a Briton (in my original purchase of Cochin-Chinas), but I did not retaliate. I was content with a fair remuneration; my object, principally, was to disseminate good stock among "the people," for I was a democrat, and loved the dear people.
So I charged lightly for my "magnificent" samples, while other persons were selling second and third rate stock for five or even six and eight dollars a pair. The "Grey Shanghaes" had got to be a "fixed fact" in England, as well as in this country, and still I was flooded with orders continually.
I obtained $25, $50, $100 a pair, for mine; and one gentleman, who ordered four greys, soon after the Queen's stock reached England, paid me sixty guineas for them—$150 a pair. But these were of the better class of birds to which I have alluded.
In 1852 a Boston agricultural journal stated that "within three months extra samples of two-year-old fowls, of the large Chinese varieties, have been sold in Massachusetts at $100 the pair. Several pairs, within our own knowledge, have commanded $50 a pair, within the past six months. Last week we saw a trio of White Shanghaes sold in Boston for $45. And the best specimens of Shanghaes and Cochin-China fowls now bring $20 to $25 a pair, readily, to purchasers at the South and West."
Now, these prices may be looked upon by the uninitiated as extraordinary. So they were for this country. But at a Birmingham (Eng.) show, in the fall of 1852, a single pair of "Seabright Bantams," very small and finely plumed, sold for $125; a fine "Cochin-China" cock and two hens, for $75; and a brace of "White Dorkings," at $40. An English breeder went to London, from over a hundred miles distant, for the sole purpose of procuring a setting of Black Spanish eggs, and paid one dollar for each egg. Another farmer there sent a long distance for the best Cochin-China eggs, and paid one dollar and fifty cents each for them, at this time!
This was keeping up the rates with a vengeance, and beat us Yankees, out and out. But later accounts from across the water showed that this was only a beginning, even. In the winter of 1852 the Cottage Gardener stated that "within the last few weeks a gentleman near London sold a pair of Cochin-China fowls for 30 guineas ($150), and another pair for 32 guineas ($160). He has been offered £20 for a single hen; has sold numerous eggs at 1 guinea ($5) each, and has been paid down for chickens just hatched 12 guineas ($60) the half-dozen, to be delivered at a month old. One amateur alone had paid upwards of £100 for stock birds."
To this paragraph in the Gardener the Bury and Norwich Post added the following: "In our own neighborhood, during the past week, we happen to know that a cock and two hens (Cochin-Chinas) have been sold for 32 guineas, or $160. The fact is, choice birds, well bred, of good size and handsome plumage, are now bringing very high prices, everywhere; and the demand (in our own experience) has never been so great as at the present time."
In this way the fever raved and raged for a long year or more. Shows were being held all over this country, as well as in every principal city and town in England. Everybody bought fowls, and everybody had to pay for them, too, in 1852 and 1853!
In a notice of one of the English shows in that year (1853), a paper says: "There is a pen of three geese weighing forty-eight pounds; and among the Cochin-China birds are to be found hens which, in the period that forms the usual boundary of chicken life, have attained a weight of seven or eight pounds. Of the value of these birds it is difficult to speak without calling forth expressions of incredulity. It is evident that there is a desperate mania in bird-fancying, as in other things. Thus, for example, there is a single fowl to which is affixed the enormous money value of 30 guineas; two Cochin-China birds are estimated at 25 guineas; and four other birds, of the same breed, a cock and three hens, are rated in the aggregate at 60 guineas,—a price which the owner confidently expects them to realize at the auction-sale on Thursday. A further illustration of this ornithological enthusiasm is to be found in the fact that, at a sale on Wednesday last, one hundred and two lots, comprising one hundred and ten Cochin-China birds, all belonging to one lady, realized £369. 4s. 6d.; the highest price realized for a single one being 20 guineas."
Another British journal stated, a short time previously, that "a circumstance occurred which proves that the Cochin-China mania has by no means diminished in intensity. The last annual sale of the stock of Mr. Sturgeon, of Greys, has taken place at the Baker-street Bazaar. The two hundred birds there disposed of could not have realized a less sum than nearly £700 (or $3500), some of the single specimens being knocked down at more than £12, and very many producing £4, £5, and £6 each."
The attention, at this sale, devoted to the pedigree of the birds, was amusing to a mere observer; one fowl would be described as a cockerel by Patriarch, another as a pullet by Jerry, whilst a third was recommended as being the off-spring of Sam. Had the sale been one of horses, more care could hardly have been taken in describing their pedigrees or their qualifications. Many were praised by the auctioneer as being particularly clever birds, although in what their cleverness consisted did not appear. The fancy had evidently extended to all ranks in society. The peerage sent its representatives, who bought what they wanted, regardless of price. Nor was the lower house without its delegates; a well-known metropolitan ex-member seems to have changed his constituency of voters for one of Cochins; and we can only hope that it may not be his duty to hold an inquest on any that perish by a violent or unnatural death. The sums obtained for these birds depended on their being in strict accordance with the then taste of the fancy. They were magnificent in size, docile in behavior, intelligent in expression, and most of them were very finely bred.
And while the hen fever was thus at its height, almost, in England, we were following close upon the footsteps of John Bull in the United States. At the Boston Fowl Show in 1852, three Cochin-Chinas were sold at $100; a pair of Grey Chittagongs, at $50; two Canton Chinese fowls, at $80; three Grey Shanghae chicks, at $75; three White Shanghaes, at $65; six White Shanghae chickens, $40 to $45, etc.; and these prices, for similar samples, could have been obtained again and again.
At this time there was found an ambitious individual, occasionally, who got "ahead of his time," and whose laudable efforts to outstrip his neighbors were only checked by the natural results of his own superior "progressive" notions. A case in point:
"Way down in Lou'siana," for instance, a correspondent of mine stated that there lived one of these go-ahead fellows, who had been afflicted with a serious attack of hen fever, and who was not content with the ordinary speed and prolificness in breeding of the noted Shanghae fowls. He desired to possess himself of the biggest kind of a pile of chickens for the rapidly augmenting trade; and so he had constructed an Incubator, of moderate dimensions, into which he carefully stowed only three hundred nice fresh eggs, from his fancy fowls.
The secret of his plan to "astonish the boys" was limited to the knowledge of only two or three friends; and—thermometer in hand—he commenced operations. With close assiduity and Job-like patience, our amateur applied himself to his three weeks' task, by day and night, and at the end of fifteen days, one egg was broken, and Mr. Shanghae was thar,—alive and kicking, but as yet immature.
The neighborhood was in the greatest excitement at this prospect of success. Our friend commenced to crow (slightly), and, to hasten matters, put on, a leetle more steam at a venture. The twenty-second day arrived, and the "boys" assembled to witness the entrée of three hundred steam-hatched Shanghaes into this breathing world. Our amateur was full of expectation and "fever." One egg was broken; another, and then another; when, upon inspection, the entire mass was found to have been thoroughly boiled!
A desperate guffaw was heard as our amateur friend disappeared, and his only query since has been to ascertain what actual time is required to boil a certain quantity of eggs at a given heat, and the smallest probable cost thereof! As far as heard from, the reply has been, say six gallons of good alcohol, at one dollar per gallon, for three hundred eggs; time (night and day), twenty-two days and seven hours; and the product it is generally thought would make capital fodder for young turkeys,—provided said eggs are not boiled too hard!
On the subject of the diseases of poultry many learned and sapient dissertations appeared about these days. In one agricultural journal we remember to have met with the following scientific prescription. The learned writer is talking about roup in fowls, and says:
"This is probably a chronic condition, the result of frequent colds. Give the following medicines: Aconite, if there is fever, hepar-suliphuris third trituration, or mercury, third trituration, for a day or two, once in three or four hours; then pulsatilla tincture for the eyes; antimonium, third trituration or arsenic, or nux vomica, for the crop."
Isn't this clear, reader? How many poultry-raisers in the United States are there who would be likely to comprehend one line of this stuff? We advise this writer to try again; the above is an "elegant extract," verily!
We now come down to the fourth and last exhibition in Boston of the Mutual Admiration Society, alias the Association with the long-winded cognomen, which took place in September, 1852.
I was chosen by somebody (who will here permit me to present them my thanks for the honor) as one of the judges to decide upon the merits of the birds then to be exhibited: and my colleagues on this Committee were Dr. J.C. Bennett, and Messrs. Andrews, Balch and Fussell.
On the morning of the opening of this show the names of the judges were first announced to the contributors. Immediately there followed a "hullabaloo" that would have done credit to any bedlam, ancient or modern, ever heard or dreamed of. The lead in this burst of rebellion amongst the hitherto "faithful" was taken by one prominent member, who announced publicly, then and there, that the selection of the judges was an infamous imposition. They were incompetent, dishonest, prejudiced, calculating, speculative, ambitious competitors. Moreover, that it had all been "contrived by that damned Burnham, who would rob a church-yard, or steal the cents off the eyes of his dead uncle, any time, for the price of a hen."
These were the gentleman's own expressive words. He added that he could stand anything in the hen-trade but this. This, however, he would not submit to. Burnham should be kicked out of that Committee, or he would kick himself out of his boots, and the Society's traces also;—a threat which did not seem to alarm or disturb anybody, "as I knows on," except this same tall, stout, athletic, brave, honorable, honest, truthful, smart, gentlemanly member of this Mutual Admiration Society!
Now, it was very well known, at this time, that the Committee of Judges had been chosen entirely without their own knowledge. So far as I was myself concerned, I should greatly have preferred at that time to have remained an outsider, because it would have then been quite as well for me to have contributed to the exhibition, where, with the "splendid specimens" I then possessed of the Cochin-China and Shanghae varieties of fowl, I could have knocked all the others "higher than a fence" in that show, as I had done in all the previous exhibitions where I had ever competed with the boys.
But the same power which had formed the Committee of Judges also provided that they must not be competitors. Thus, three or four of those persons who had at the previous exhibitions of this Society been the most extensive contributors,—men who had bred by far the largest assortments and quantities of good fowls up to this period, and who had till now paid ten or twenty dollars for one (compared with any other of the members) toward the good of the association, and in the furtherance of its objects,—these men were made the judges, and were cut off as contributors. I was satisfied, however, because I saw that the framing of the Report of this show would fall to my lot again; and I had no doubt that, under these circumstances, I could afford to be "persecuted" for the time being.
It is not in my nature to harm anybody; and those who are personally acquainted with me, know that I am constitutionally of a calm, retiring, meek, religious turn of mind. My aim in life is to "do unto others as I would have others do unto me." I "love my neighbor" (if he doesn't permit his hens to get into my garden) "as myself." And, "if a man smite me upon one cheek, I turn to him the other also," immediately, if not sooner. I never retaliate upon an enemy or an opponent—until I make sure that I have him where the hair is short.
I once knew of an extraordinary instance of patience that taught me a powerful lesson in submissiveness. It occurred in a Western court, where the judge (a most exemplary man, I remember) sat for two mortal days quietly listening to the arguments of a couple of contending lawyers in reference to the construction they desired him to assume in regard to a certain act of the Legislature of that State. When the two legal gentlemen had "thrown themselves," in this long and wearying debate, for forty-eight hours, his Honor cut off the controversy by remarking, very quietly,
"Gentlemen, this law that you have been speaking of has been repealed!"
I thought of this circumstance, and I permitted the hen-men to gas, to their hearts' content. When they got through with their anathemas, their spleen, and their stupidity, I informed them that the "Committee" had unanimously left to my charge the writing of the Report of that Exhibition.
From that moment, up to the hour when the Report was published, I never suspected (before) that I had so many friends in this world!
The fear that seemed to pervade every mind present was, that I should probably do precisely what they would have done under similar circumstances,—to wit, take care of myself.
I had no fowls in this exhibition; but there were present numerous specimens bred from my stock, that were very choice (so every one said), and which commanded the highest prices during the show.
There were several Southern gentlemen present, who bought (and paid roundly for them, too) some of the best fancy-birds on sale. It was astonishing how much some of those buyers did know about the different breeds of Chinese fowls there! Yes, it certainly was astounding! I think I never saw before so much real, downright bona fide knowledge of henology displayed as was shown by one or two Southern gentlemen, then and there;—never, in the whole course of my experience!
By reference to the next chapter, it will be seen how shamefully I neglected my own interests, and how self-sacrificing I was in the report of the Society's last kick, which, as I have already hinted, the Committee left to my charge to prepare.
I had no disposition (in the preparation of this document) to underrate the stock of any one else, provided it did not interfere with me! And, after carefully noting down whatever seemed of importance to my well-being there, I sat myself down to oblige the Committee by writing the "Report" of this show, which an ill-natured competitor subsequently declared was "only in favor of Burnham and his stock, all over, underneath, in the middle, outside, overhead, on top, on all sides, and at both ends!"
And I believe he was right!
This show (in September, 1852) was the fifth exhibition held in Boston, but the fourth only of the Society with the long name.
The Report commences with a congratulation (as usual) that the association still lives, and has a being; and, after alluding to the general state of the affairs of the concern,—without touching upon its financial condition,—it thus proceeds:
"Your Committee would call your attention to the fact that among the numerous fowls exhibited this season,—as upon former occasions,—a very unnecessary practice seems to have obtained, in the mis-naming of varieties. Crossbred fowls have been called by original cognomens, unknown to practical breeders; and a host of birds well known to the Committee, as well as to poulterers generally, have been denominated by any other than their real and universally conceded ornithological titles. This savors of bad taste; it leads to ridicule among strangers who visit our shows from abroad; and should not be sanctioned by your Society. Errors may creep in among your transactions, in this particular, and many honest, careful breeders may be deceived; but the multiplying of unpronounceable and meaningless names for domestic fowls is entirely uncalled for; and your committee recommend a close adherence, hereafter, to recognized titles only.
"In this connection, it may be proper to allude to a case in point. The largest and unquestionably one of the finest varieties of domestic fowls ever shown among us was entered by the breeders of this variety as the 'Chittagong;' other coops of the same stock were labelled 'Grey Chittagongs;' others were called 'Bramah Pootras;' and others, 'Grey Shanghae' and 'Malays.'
"Your Committee are divided in opinion as to what these birds ought, rightfully, to be called,—though the majority of the Committee have no idea that 'Bramah Pootra' is their correct title. That they are not 'Malays' is also quite as clear. Several of the specimens are positively known to have come direct from Shanghae; and none are known to have come originally from anywhere else. Nevertheless, it has been thought proper to leave this question open, for the present; and the Committee, believing that this fowl originates in and hails directly from the East, are content to accept for them the title of 'Grey Shanghae,' 'Chittagong,' or 'Bramah Pootra,' as different breeders may elect,—admitting, at the same time, that they are really a very superior bird, and believing that if carefully bred they may be found decidedly the most valuable among all the large Chinese breeds, of which they are clearly a good variety."
"A large sum of money was expended at this exhibition, by visitors, amateurs and breeders,—one gentleman investing upwards of $700 in choice fowls; another, from the South, purchasing to the amount of $350 for extra samples; another bought $200 worth, etc. The highest figures ever yet paid on this side of the Atlantic (for individual purchases) were realized at this show.
"Samples of the China stock originally imported from Shanghae were very plentiful on this occasion, and the high reputation of this blood was fully sustained in the specimens exhibited. Very superior fowls, bred from G.P. Burnham's importations of Cochin-Chinas, were also numerous, and were sold, in four or five instances, at the very highest prices paid for any samples that were disposed of."
Among the premiums awarded to the Chinese fowls by this "Committee," were the following:
"China Fowls.—To H.H. Williams, best cock and two hens (of Burnham's Canton importation), $5. To C. Sampson, West Roxbury, best cock and single hen (Burnham's Canton importation), $3. To H.H. Williams, third prize, for same stock, $2. To C.C. Plaisted, Great Falls, N.H., the Committee awarded a first prize, $5, for what he called 'Hong-Kong' fowls; these were of Burnham's Canton stock, also. To A. White, E. Randolph, for six best chickens (Burnham's importation), $2.
"Cochin-China.—To H.H. Williams, West Roxbury, best cock and two hens (splendid samples, of extraordinary size and beauty), first prize, $5. To A. White, E. Randolph, best cock and single hen (of Burnham's importation), $3. To A. White, for six best chickens (Burnham's importation), $2."
The Committee then allude to the prices which were paid there for fowls, "not because they advocate the propriety of keeping them up" (O, no!), "but rather to show that the welfare of the Association is by no means derogating.
"The three prize Cochin-China fowls were sold for $100. The two prize Grey Shanghaes, or 'Bramah Pootras,' were sold for $50. Three chickens of the same, at $50. A pair of Burnham's importation of Cochins, at $80; another pair, at $40; another trio (chickens), at $40. Six Black Spanish chickens (Child's), at $50. Six White Shanghae chickens (Wight's), at $45. Three hens, of same stock, at $50—and several pairs and trios of other varieties, at from $25 each, to $25 and $30 to $40 the lot."
At a subsequent meeting of the Trustees, Mr. George P. Burnham, on the part of the Judges at the late exhibition of the Society, presented their Report, whereupon it was
"Voted, That the Report of the Judges on the recent show of poultry in the Public Garden be accepted."
And this was the end of that ball of worsted! I rather have the impression, now,—as nearly as I can recollect (though my memory is somewhat treacherous in these matters), but I think I sold a few fowls, just after that fair. "I may be mistaken,—but that is my opinion!"
The Report was duly accepted, in form, and I had the satisfaction of seeing my "extraordinary" and "superb" stock again lauded to the very echo, at the expense of the old-fogyism of the "Mutual Admiration Society."
The consequence was a renewed activity in my sales, which continued delightfully lively and correspondingly remunerative for several months after this exhibition, also, where I did not enter the first fowl!