CHAPTER XXXVIII.
THE PORTE-MONNAIE I OWE 'EM COMPANY.

The presiding genius of this concern was one Doctor Bangit,—an old friend of mine, who had been through wars enough to have killed a regiment of ghouls, who was among the earliest advocates and supporters of the "New England Mutual Admiration Society," who was one of the very first physicians employed in prescribing for the hen fever in this country, and who, I supposed, had had sufficient experience not to embark (at this late day) in such a ridiculous enterprise as this so clearly seemed to be.

But the doctor saw his victims in prospective, probably; and, though he had run the hummery of the fowl-fever so far into the ground that, in his case, it would surely never know a day of resurrection, still he was ambitious and hopeful; and he flattered himself (and some others) that the last man who bought live stock had not yet turned up! And so the doctor pushed on, once more.

The "Blood Stock" of the "Porte-Monnaie I owe 'em Company"[12] was thus advertised, also:

"IN addition to the genuine, unadulterated Prince Albert fowls, the 'Porte-Monnaie I owe 'ems' offer pigs, with tails on, of the Winsor, Unproved Essex, Proved Suffolks, Yorkshire, Wild Indian, Bramerpouter, Siam, Hong-Kongo, Emperor Napoleons, and Shanghae Breeds; most of them of new styles, and warranted to hold their colors in any climate.

"Also, Welsh Rarebits—bred from their Merino buck 'Champum,' of England (that didn't take the first prize at the National Show, because Mr. Burnham's 'Knockum' did!), whose ears are each thirty-three feet longer than those of our best pure-bred jackasses, and wider than five snow-shovels, by actual measurement.

"Also, A-quack-it fowls; as Swans (Porte-Monnaie I owe 'em strain), Two-lice, Hong-gong, Brumagem and other Geese. Ruin and Ailsburied Ducks, and Pharmigan Pigeons (blue-billed).

"Also, every breed of Gallinaceous fowls,—Games and other bloods already noted,—together with every species of pure and select blood-stock, which has been secured in Europe, Asia, Africa, and the Arctic Ocean, with reference to quality, without regard to price.

"☞We can furnish pedigrees to all buyers who desire them, which will be endorsed by the faculty of Riply College, Iowa.

"N.B. The 'Winsor' breed of pigs imported by us is a great addition to the already fine hog stock of the United States, and is fully equal, if not superior, to any other breed. They are the very choicest of the royal stock which is so much admired in England. We are in possession of the shipping papers of these splendid pigs. The freight and incidental expenses on them, alone, amount to about six hundred dollars. They ought to be fine pigs. Three hundred dollars a pair for the pigs from this splendid stock would be low, taking their great value into consideration. We have often heard of Prince Albert's stock of pigs, but until G.P. Burnham, Esq., of Russet House, Melrose, first imported this superb stock into this country, no American was ever honored with a shy at this extraordinary breed of swine. The company, at great expense and trouble, prevailed upon Mr. Burnham to part with a few of his second-rate samples; and they have now no doubt that they will be able to 'beat him all to rags,' in a few months, since they have been lucky enough to get them from him purely bred (probably!).

"P.S. Of these pigs, which gained the first prize and gold and silver medal at London in December, 1863, and the first prize and gold and silver medal in Birmingham, were from Tibby, by Wun-eyed Jack. Old Pulgubbin's pigs gained a prize at Mutton-head in 1729, and one at London in 1873."

Still, notwithstanding all this extra flourish of trumpets, the "Porte Monnaie I owe 'em Company" is well-nigh defunct. It was started, unfortunately, about five years and eight months "too late in the season."

Yet, as I honor talent and enterprise, wherever they may be shown, I trust that this association may be galvanized into successful operation—as, perhaps, it will!

CHAPTER XXXIX.
A SATISFACTORY PEDIGREE.

For instance, I noticed in the London papers, in 1852, an account given of the sale of "two splendid cinnamon-colored chickens, out of the famous cock 'Jerry,' by the noted hen 'Beauty,' sired by 'Napoleon,' upon the well-known 'Queen Dowager,' grandsire 'Prince Albert,' on 'Victoria First,'" &c. &c., which brought the handsome sum of one hundred and sixty pounds (or about eight hundred dollars). And, soon afterwards, the same dodge was adopted on this side of the Atlantic. The "Porte-Monnaie I owe 'em Company" have now an advertisement in several New York and Western papers, concluding thus:

"To all who desire it, we will furnish authentic pedigrees of our stock of all descriptions, which may be relied on for their accuracy."

This sort of thing was rather too much for my naturally republican turn of mind; and, though I could endure almost anything in the humbug of this bubble, I couldn't swallow this. I received from New York State, one day, the following spicy epistle:

"Mr. Burnham.

"Sir: I have been a live-stock breeder for some years in this and the old country, and I was desirous to obtain only pure-blooded fowls when I ordered the 'Cochins' of you last month. I asked you for their pedigree. You have sent none. What does this mean? I paid you your price—seventy-five dollars—for three chickens. What have you sent me? Am I dealing with a gentleman? Or are you a mere shambles-huckster? What are these fowls bred from? Perhaps I may find myself called upon to speak more plainly, sir. I hope not. Who are you? I sent for a pedigree, and I want it. I must have it, sir. You will comprehend this, I presume. If you do not, I can enlighten you further. In haste,

"—— — ——."

I smiled at the earnestness of this letter, the more particularly when I reflected that this gentleman always supplied to his patrons a thing he called a pedigree, for all the animals he sold—so intricate, conglomerated and lengthy, that no one would ever venture to dispute the authenticity and reliability of the document he sent them.

I re-read his sharp communication, and I found the sentence again, "Who are you? I sent for a pedigree, and I must have it." And I sat down, at once, and wrote him as follows:

"Melrose, Mass., 1853.

"My Dear Sir:

"Your peppery favor came duly to hand. You say you 'want a pedigree,' and that you 'must have it;' and you inquire who I am? I cannot furnish any such history for my fowls, for I haven't the slightest idea what they are, except that they are bred from my superb imported 'Cochin-Chinas,' which have so long been pronounced the 'admiration of the world.'

"But, since you must have a pedigree, you say, and as you seem anxious to know who I am, I enclose you the following, as an accurate account of my own pedigree, which I furnished to a legal gentleman in New York city, some years since,[13] and which, I presume, will answer your purpose as well as any other would; as I observe, by your polite favor now before me, that you 'want A pedigree.' Please read this carefully, and then inform me (as you promise to do) if you 'can enlighten me further'!

"Very profoundly yours,

"G.P.B."

It will be necessary, in order that my readers may the better appreciate the pedigree that follows (and which I enclosed to my correspondent, as above stated), to inform them that some fifteen years ago, or more, there was a person named Burnham, who died in England, leaving no will behind him; but who was possessed, at the time of his decease, of an immense fortune, said to amount to several millions of pounds sterling in value. As soon as the intelligence reached this country, the Burnhams were greatly elated with their prospects, and meetings of the imaginative "heirs" to this estate were held, who, each and all, believed that a windfall was now in certain prospect before them. The excitement ended as all this sort of thing does. No one among the Burnhams could identify himself, or substantiate the fact of his ever having had a grandfather; and the bubble was soon exploded. Among the parties who were addressed on the subject of this supposed "Burnham fortune," was my humble self; the ambitious lawyer who undertook to unravel the mystery, and to recover the money for us, informing me by mail that "it would be of material pecuniary advantage to me to establish my pedigree." I wrote him as follows:

"My Dear Sir:

"Your favor, under date 4th instant, came duly to hand, and I improve my earliest moment of leisure (after the unavoidable delays attendant upon procuring the information you seek) to reply. You are desirous of being made acquainted with my 'pedigree.'

"I have to inform you that I have taken some days to examine into this matter, and, after a careful investigation of the 'records,' find that I am a descendant, in the direct line, from a gentleman, very well remembered in these parts, by the name of Adam. The old man had two sons. 'Cain' and 'Abel' they were called. The latter, by the other's hands, went dead one day; but as no coroner had then been appointed in the county where they resided, 'verdict was postponed.' A third son was born, whom they called 'Seth.' Cain Adam had a son named Enoch, who had a son (in the fourth generation) by the name of Malech. Malech had a son whom he called Noah, from whom I trace directly my own being.

"Noah had three sons, 'Shem,' 'Ham' and 'Japheth.' The eldest and youngest—Shem and Japheth—were a couple of the 'b'hoys;' and Ham was a very well-disposed young gentleman, who slept at home o' nights. But his two brothers, unfortunately, were not so well inclined. Ham was a sort of 'jethro'—the butt of his two brothers, who had done him 'brown' so many times, that they called him 'burnt.' For many years he was known, therefore, as 'Burnt-Ham.' Before his death he applied to the Legislature in his diggings for a change of name. He dropped the t, a bill was passed entitling him to the name of Burn-ham, and hence the surname of your humble servant. So much for the name.

"In several of the newspapers of that period I find allusions made to a very severe rain-storm which occurred 'just about this time;' and the public prints (of all parties) agree that 'this storm was tremendous,' and that 'an immense amount of damage was done to the shipping and commercial interest.' As this took place some six thousand years back, however, you will not, I presume, expect me to quote the particular details of this circumstance, except in so far as refers directly to my own relatives. I may here add, however, that subsequent accounts inform me that everything of any particular value was totally destroyed. A private letter from Ham, dated at the time, declares that 'there wasn't a peg left to hang his hat on.'

"Old Noah found it was 'gittin' werry wet under foot' (to use a familiar expression of his), and he wisely built a canal-boat (of very generous dimensions) for the safety of himself and family. Finding that the rain continued, he enlarged his boat, so that he could carry a very considerable amount of luggage, in case of accident. This foresight in the old gentleman proved most fortunate, and only confirms the established opinion, that the family is 'smart;' for the 'storm continued unabated for forty days and forty nights' (so say the accounts), until every species of animal and vegetable matter had been 'used up,' always excepting the old gentleman's canal-boat and cargo.

"Now, Noah was a great lover of animals. 'Of every kind, a male and female,' did he take into his boat with him, and 'a nice time' they must have had of it for six weeks! Notwithstanding the fact (which I find recorded in one of the journals of the day), that 'a gentleman, who was swimming about, and who requested the old man to let him in, upon being refused, declared that he might go to grass with his old canoe, for he didn't think it would be much of a shower, anyhow,'—I say, notwithstanding this opinion of the gentleman, who is represented as having been a 'very expert swimmer,' everything was destroyed.

"Ham was one of 'em—he was! He 'knew sufficient to get out of the rain,' albeit he wasn't thought very witty. He took passage with the rest, however, and thus did away with the necessity of a life-preserver. From Ham I trace my pedigree directly down through all the grades, to King Solomon, without any difficulty, who, by the way, was reported to have been a little loose in his habits, and was very fond of the ladies and Manzanilla Sherry. He used to sing songs, too, of which 'the least said the soonest mended.' But, on the whole, Sol was a very clever, jolly-good fellow, and on several occasions gave evidence of possessing his share of the cunning natural to our family. Some thought him 'wise;' but, although I have no disposition to abuse any of my ancestors, I think the Queen of Sheba (a very nice young woman she was, too) rather 'come it' over the old fellow!

"By a continuous chain, I trace my relationship thence through a rather tortuous line, from generation to generation, down to Mr. Matthew,—not the comedian, but to Matthew, the Collector (of Galilee, I think), who 'sat at the receipt of customs.' To this connection I was, undoubtedly, indebted for an appointment in the Boston Custom-house. Matthew lived in the good old 'high tariff' times, when something in the shape of duties was coming in. But, as nothing is said of his finale, I rather think he absquatulated with the funds of the government. But I will come to the information you desire, without further ado.

"You know the 'Old 'Un,' undoubtedly. (If you don't, there is very little doubt but you will know his namesake hereafter, if you don't cease to squander your time in looking after the plunder of the Burnham family!) Well, the 'Old 'Un' is in the 'direct line,' to which I have now endeavored to turn your attention; and I have been called, of late years, the 'Young 'Un,' for reasons that will not interest you. To my honored senior (whom I set down in the category as my legitimate 'dad') I would refer you for further particulars. He is tenacious of the character of his progeny, and loves me; I would commend you to him, for it will warm the cockles of his old heart to learn that the 'Young 'Un' is in luck.

"If you chance to live long enough to get as far down in my letter as this paragraph, allow me to add that, should you happen to receive any very considerable amount as my share of the 'property' for the Burnham family, please not overlook the fact that I am I 'one of 'em,' and that I have taken pains to tell you 'whar I cum from.' Please forward my dividend by Adams & Co.'s Express (if their crates should be big enough to convey it), and if it should prove too bulky, turn it into American gold, and charter a steamer to come round for the purpose; I shan't mind the expense.

"In conclusion, I can only intimate the high consideration I entertain towards yourself for having prepaid the postage upon your communication; a very unusual transaction with legal gentlemen. My sensations, upon closing this hasty scrawl, are, I fancy, very nearly akin to those of the Hibernian who 'liked to have found a sovereign once,'—but you will allow me to assure you that it will afford me the greatest pleasure to meet you hereafter, and I shall be happy to give you any further information in my power touching that 'putty' in prospective.

"I am, very respectfully, your obedient servant,

"Geo. P. Burnham, alias the 'Young 'Un.'"

I presume this pedigree was perfectly satisfactory to my correspondent; and I am quite certain that it was of as much account as this kind of thing usually is. At any rate, I heard nothing more from him, in any way; and I made up my mind, therefore, that, after reading this, he concluded that he couldn't "enlighten me further," as he had so pertly suggested in his communication, quoted in the beginning of this chapter. He is a very nice man, I have no manner of doubt.

CHAPTER XL.
"DOING THE GENTEEL THING."

"Sir: I have been informed by my friends, and I have seen it stated in the poultry-books generally, that you are a breeder of fowls who can be relied on. I wish I could say as much of some other parties with whom I have dealt, during the past year or two.

"I have been striving, for a long time, to get possession of some pure-bred domestic fowls, and a strain of thorough-bred Suffolk swine. I am satisfied you have got them. Now, I beg you will understand that I am fortunately pecuniarily able to pay for what I seek. I care nothing for prices;[14] but I do desire, and stipulate for, purity of blood. Can you supply me? What are your strains? When did you import it, and how has it been bred?

"If you can send me half a dozen Chinese fowls, all pure bloods, of each of the different varieties, do so, and charge me whatever you please,—only let them be fine, and such as will produce their like.

"I have read much on this subject of poultry, and I want to begin right, you perceive. I have made up my mind that there are not so many varieties of fowls extant as many breeders describe. I am satisfied that these domestic birds hail originally from China, and that all of them are of one blood. What is your opinion?

"Write me your views, please, and let me know if you can furnish me what I seek, upon honor; bearing in mind that I am ready to pay your price, whatever it may be; but that I want only pure-blooded stock.

"Yours, respectfully,

"—— ——."

I immediately forwarded to this customer (as I usually did to my newly-found patrons) copies of the portraits of my "genuine Suffolk" pigs, and of my "pure-bred" and "imported" Chinese-fowls. These "pictures," samples of which appear in this work upon pages 174 and 212, had the desired effect. I rarely forwarded to these beginners one of these nicely-got-up circulars that didn't "knock 'em" at first sight.

These gentlemen stared at the engravings, exclaimed, "Can it be?" thrust their hands to the very bottom of their long purses, and ordered the stock by return of mail.

In this last-mentioned case, I informed my correspondent that I agreed with him in the ideas he had advanced precisely (I usually did agree with such gentlemen), and I entertained no doubt that he was entirely correct in his views as to the origin of domestic fowls, of which he evidently knew so much. (This helped me, amazingly.) I pointed out to him the distinction that existed (without a difference) between a "Shanghae" and a "Cochin-China," and finally concluded my learned and unselfish appeal by hinting (barely hinting) to him that I felt certain he was the best judge of the facts in the case, and I would only suggest that, so far as my experience went, there were, in reality, but ten varieties of pure-bred fowls known to ornithologists (I was one of this latter class), and that these ten varieties were the Cochins, the White, Grey, Dominique, Buff, Yellow, Red, Brown, Bronze and Black Shanghaes—and these were the only kinds I ever bred.

As to their purity of blood, I could only say, that I imported the original stock myself, and "enclosed" he had their portraits; to which I referred with pride and confidence and pleasure, &c. &c. &c. Of their probable merits I must leave it entirely to his own good judgment to decide. I had this stock for sale, and it did not become me (mind this!) didn't become me to praise it, of course (O no!). And I would say no more, but simply refer him to the public prints for my character as a breeder of blooded stock, etc. etc. etc.

Did this take him down? Well, it did; vide the following reply from him, two weeks subsequently.

"My Dear Sir:

"I never entertained a doubt that you were all you had been represented; and your reputation is, indeed, an enviable one, in the midst of these times, when so much deceit and trickery is being practised among this community. I am flattered with the tone of your kind letter, just received, and I am greatly pleased that you thus readily coincide with me in regard to my opinions touching the fowl race.

"I had come to the conclusion that there were but eight real varieties of genuine fowls; but I observe that, in your last favor, you describe ten strains of pure-bloods, that you know to be such. The portraits of your stock are beautiful. You allude to the 'Bronze' and the 'Dominique' colored Shanghaes. These must be very fine, I have no doubt; and I gladly embrace the opportunity to enclose you a draft on Merchants' Bank, Boston, for six hundred dollars, in payment for six of each of your splendid varieties of this pure China stock, the like of which (on paper, at least) I have never yet been so fortunate as to meet with.

"Please forward them, as per schedule, in care of Adams & Co.'s Express; whose agents, I am assured, will feed and water them regularly three times a day[15] on the route, and who are universally proverbial for their attention to the birds thus directed and intrusted to their care. I shall order the 'Suffolks' shortly.

"Yours, truly,

"—— ——."

I sent this anxious purchaser sixty chickens, at ten dollars each (cheap enough, to be sure), in accordance with his directions, and he was delighted with them. I do not now entertain a shadow of doubt that every one of those ten "different varieties" were bred from white hens and a black cock, of the ordinary "Shanghae" tribe.

CHAPTER XLI.
THE FATE OF THE "MODEL" SHANGHAES.

The cock was very handsomely formed, and when in full feather was exceedingly showy, and graceful, and noble in his carriage. His hen companions were fine, too; but there was one in particular, that, in company with this bird, I showed at several fairs, where they invariably carried away the first premium, without any question or cavil as to comparative beauty and merit. I named them "Napoleon" and the "Empress."

Their joint weight, when in the best condition, was about twenty-two pounds; and as the "fancy" then raged, they were really unexceptionable. I "donno" how many chickens I have sold by means of the pictures of these birds, but I do know that, unfortunately, this particular hen never laid an egg while I owned her, which was some two years. Still, she was very handsome, as was also her husband; and I certainly raised a great many fine chickens while they were in my yards. I called them my very best,—and they were, indeed, to look at,—a model pair of Shanghaes, as will be seen by a glance at their portraits on the next page.

But they were singled out for a curious fate. At two or three of our early fairs they had taken the first prizes; and at one of the exhibitions, finally, there chanced to come along a gentleman who fancied them exceedingly, and who was bound to possess himself of the best that could be had. He had a long purse (though, at the time he bought, prices were not up to the mark they reached subsequently, by a long margin); and when he offered forty dollars for this "model" pair, it was thought, by most of the outsiders, to be a fabulous transaction altogether, made up between us to aid in gulling "the people." However, he paid his money for them, sent them off, and the following account of their subsequent fate is thus touchingly furnished by my friend "Acorn," who chanced to be "in at the death":

"The gentleman who became the fortunate purchaser of these fine fowls had come to the city in the morning for the purpose of posting himself up generally, and to procure a pair of these then very desirable birds, though he did not imagine that he would be called upon to come down so 'werry han'some' for a single pair. He saw these, however, and visions of brilliant promise loomed up before him, if he could contrive to obtain them, however high a figure this 'magnificent' twain might be held at. As soon as he secured them, he felt that his fortune was made.

"He calculated to remain in town until evening, and, sitting down, he hastily wrote a note to the keeper of a fashionable hotel in T—— street, informing him that he would dine with him, and that the bearer would deliver him a pair of nice chickens, which he desired him to take charge of. He also directed the boy (to whom he gave this note and the coop) to say that he would take dinner with his friend at four p.m.; and, sending up the fowls, he turned to other matters, for the day.

"Arriving at the hotel, the youngster found the landlord, and said,

"'Here's a pair of rousing big chickens Mr. M——s has sent up; and he says he'll be here to dine with you at four o'clock,'

"The landlord supposed that his friend knew a hawk from a handsaw, as well as a canvass-back from a broiled owl; and believed that he had 'sent up' something a little extra for the proposed dinner. He therefore ordered the two birds to be placed in the hands of the cook, and gave directions also to have these 'model Shanghaes' killed and dressed at once, for the proposed dinner, to come off at four o'clock p.m.!

"This order was promptly obeyed; and at the hour appointed the chicken-fancier made his appearance, in company with a few of the 'boys,' and the dinner was served up with due accompaniments. After indulging in sundry wine bitters, as a sharpener to their appetites, the snug party sat down to table, and the liberal owner of the forty-dollar Shanghaes was politely invited to carve. While in the act of dissecting those enormous 'members of the late hen convention,' the amateur remarked,

"''Pon my word, Major, you've a noble pair of chickens here, to be sure.'

"'Yes, yes,' responded the Major. 'I think they are an indifferently good-sized pair of birds. They were sent up to me, to-day, by a mutual friend of ours. I think we shall find them choice.'

"'A present, eh?' said the owner, unwittingly. 'A very clever fellow our friend must be, Major. Capital,—really!' And as he finally commenced to enjoy the feast, he added, 'I declare they are very fine, and of the most delicious flavor I ever tasted. Juicy, too,—juicy as a canvass-back.'

"Thus continued the victim, praising the rich excellence of the birds, until at last he had bagged a bottle or more of sparkling Schreider. While chatting over their Sherry, at last, and enjoying the rich aroma of their regalias, the now unlucky owner of the model Shanghaes suddenly said,

"'By the way, Major, speaking of fowls, what do you think of my hen-purchase, this morning? Aren't they good 'uns?'

"'Well, Bill,' rejoined his friend, 'I think they were delicious. And I won't mind if you dine with me every day in the week, provided you can send me up such chickens as those!'

"'Such chickens!' exclaimed Bill, astounded, as the thought for the first time flashed upon him that he might possibly now have been dining upon his 'model Shanghaes.' 'Why, Major, what the deuce do you mean?'

"'Mean?' replied the Major; 'nothing,—only to say—without any intention of disturbing your nerves,—that we have just finished a most capital dinner upon those nice Shanghaes that you sent up to me, this morning.'

"'What!' yelled Bill, jumping wildly up from the table; 'what do you say, Major?'

"'Those Shanghaes—'

"Bill groaned, rammed his hands clean up to the elbows into his breeches-pockets, and, after striding fiercely across the room some half a dozen times, without uttering another word, but with his eyes all this time 'in a fine frenzy rolling,' he stopped short, and, turning to the Major, he exclaimed, with no little gesticulation,

"'Good God, Major, you don't mean to say you're serious, now?'

"'Nothing else, Bill. What's the matter?'

"'Why, I paid forty dollars for that pair of chickens, this morning, at the hen-show!'

"'You did!'

"'Yes. Didn't that stupid boy give you my note, when he left the chickens?'

"'Not a note; not even a due-bill,' said the Major, provokingly.

"'I mean my letter,' continued Bill.

"'No,' said the Major, 'he gave me no letter; he simply delivered the fowls, and informed me that you would dine with me at four p.m. I thought, of course, you would like them thus, and so I had 'em roasted.'

"Bill didn't stop for further explanations, but rushed for his horse and wagon, and wasn't seen in the city but once afterwards, for a long time. He was then closely muffled up, and had both his ears stopped up with cotton-batting, lest he might possibly hear some one say Shanghae!

"A few weeks afterwards, while passing near his residence, I halted, and dropped in upon him for an hour; and, after a while, I ventured to touch upon the merits and beauties of the different breeds of poultry;—but I discovered, at once, that there was a wildness about Bill's eyes, and therefore ceased to allude to this usually interesting 'rural' subject, as Bill exclaimed, imploringly,

"'Don't hit me, old boy, now I'm down! That chicken dinner has never yet digested!'"

Thus "passed away" one of the handsomest pairs of domestic fowls ever seen in this part of the country, and which were well known, by all the fanciers around me, as tip-top specimens of the then lauded race of Shanghaes.

This result proved rather an expensive dinner for Mr. M——s; but, while it served for an excellent lesson to him (as well as to many of his friends who chanced to hear of what the Major called "this capital joke"), he had the satisfaction, subsequently, of ascertaining that he got off at a remarkably low figure. His hen fever was very quickly, and fortunately, cured. But for this sudden and happy turn in his case, the disease might have cost him far more dearly.

The fowls he thus lost were what were then deemed "tall specimens;" but they did not, in this respect, equal those of a neighbor, who declared that a young Shanghae cock of his grew so high on the leg, that he got to be afraid of him; and, instead of eating him, one day while the rooster was in a meditative mood, he contrived to place a twenty-feet ladder beside him, and, mounting it, managed to blow out the monster's brains, greatly to the owner's relief.

CHAPTER XLII.
AN EMPHATIC CLINCHER.

"Georg Burnam:

"More'n a yeer aggo i cent yu twenty six dollers in a leter for 3 coshin chiner Chickns, an yu sed tha wus perfeck pure bludds an yu lade yerseff lyble tu a Sute of prosekushn fer letin such dam stuf go intu yure yard or out of it, eether.

"i bred them orl by themselfs an never had no uther cockrill on my plase. an i no yu cheeted me like the devl, an yu no it 2. the fust lot of chickns i gut was awl wite as snobawls. but i didnt sa nothin, cause wy? Wat did I Want tu let fokes no ide bin fuled an suckt in by a Corntemtible yanky, fer! i sed nothin an kep shaidy, an stuk to it that i gut em to breed wite fouls out on—caus i Ment peeple shudent larf at me, no how!

"Wel, the nex lot of chickns i gut wus black as thunder! black, Geo Burnam—bred out of yur Patent yaller impoted preemum stock, that yu an the lyin Noospappers ced wus pure bludds. i chocked Every wun on em quicker 'n scatt—wen i found um, an ef Yude a bin thare then i guess you Wuddent razed not more'n ten thowsen more fouls to cheet Peeple with after ide a gut a holt on yure desaitful gullet.

"never yu mind now, yuve gut my monny an yu can maik the most of it. aint yu a Pooty kine of mann? dont yu think yu ort tu hav yure Naim put in the nuspapper an let em say more'n fifty times a Munth that yu breed onny pure Impoted stock? dont yu feel nice wen Yu heer about the luck that peeple has with the stuf you impose on em in this shaimfull maner? Yu muss be a Nise kine of a sort of mann, i dont think.

"i tell yu wot i think on yu. i think if yu Shud taik to sum onnest imploiment, sech as drivin a express Waggin or sorring wood, yude be Considurd a gentle mann Compaired with wat yu now be. everyboddy nose how yu ar cheetin and Gougin and bleadin the publick, an yur naim stinks wuss'n a ole Hen-cupe enny how. i spose tho ef yu shud taik to enny kine of onness sort of way tu git a livin it ud kill yu dam quik cos yu aint uste tu it, an that wud serv yu rite, yu Cheetin lyin onprinsipled nave. ide orter taikn bennits an Minur's advise, an then i Shudent bin suckt by yu. tha air Gentle mann to yu, an tha aint no better then tha shud be Neyther—no how!

"i dont mine the Eckspence, it aint no cornsidable matter of konsekens Tu me, i 'shure yu. i can stan it, yu needn't be Afeered of that. i can aford tu be suckt wunce. But ide like yu tu tell me how Blak chickns an wite chickns an sum of em orl Cullers tu, can cum out of pure bludded Aigs, or pure bludded fouls? tha carnt, an yu kno it. an yu kno'de it afore, an yure Welcom tu orl yule evver maik More out of me, bait yure life on that, georg Burnam!

"go ahed. suc em as long as Yu can. tha wunt fine yu out fer a wile, an yu can maik sum cornsidable mor Monny out of the flatts, yit. yu thort yude suckt me I spoze. well i own up. yu did. yu gut twenty six dollers of my monny an i spose yu chukled about it, same's yu did Wen yu stuk them roten aigs onto bill turner. Yude beter cum here, this wa, sum fine da an See the stock here thats bred out of yure preemum fouls. praps Yude git hoam agin without a saw hed. i think yu wood. haddn't yu Better try it on—hay?

"dont yu wish ide pade the postige on this leter? Yule git a wus wun nex time. ile rite yu agin, wunct a weak, cee ef i dont. ile Meat yu sum day at sum of the fares an then cee if i dont Rake yu down with a corse comb. i haint harf dun with yu yit, by a dam site. so wate.

"In haist,

"B—— F—— L——.

"Poss Skrip.—P.S. i seen in boston Times yisterday that yu 'Lade six aigs on The editurs table, 8 inchis long an 4 inchis Round.' This was put in that paper i Spose sose yu cud cell Aigs. yu ma pool wull over thair ies But yu dont fule Me. i doant bleeve yu ever Lade a aig in yur life—yu Hombugg. go tu the devl gorge Burnam!"

A German friend of mine once temporarily left the profession to which he had been educated thoroughly, and, with a few hundred dollars in hand, purchased a small place, a dozen miles out from the city, which was called by the seller of it "a farm."

Mynheer went to work lustily at his new vocation, slaving and sweating and puffing away over his lately acquired grounds, every moment of time that he could borrow or steal from his legitimate duties, and expending upon his "farm" every dollar he could rake and scrape together.

In the fall of his first year as a "practical agriculturist," I met him casually, and I said,

"A——, how does the farming succeed with you? How have you made it?"

"By gar," he replied, "I 'av try vera hard all de time, I 'av plant potato an quash an corn an all dat, I 'av hire all my neighbors to 'elp, I buy all de manoor in town, I 'av spent all my monish—an wot you tink, now, Burnham—wot you tink I get—eh? Well, I git one dam big watermel'n, dass all;—but he never git ripe, by gar!"

When I had read the letter which I have just quoted above, I thought of my friend A——, and I said that my correspondent (like a good many before him), as did Mynheer A——, had undertaken a business which was entirely beyond his comprehension.

His letter was complimentary, (!) to say the least of it. But the young man was easily excited, I think. He did pay me some twenty-six dollars for four chickens, and from some cause (unknown to this individual) he got only white or black progeny from the yellow fowls I sent him! Was that any business of mine? He should have thanked, rather than have abused me, surely,—for didn't he thus obtain a variety of "pure" stock, from one and the same source?

Such fortune as this was by no means uncommon. The yellow stock was crossed in China, oftentimes, long before we ever saw it here; and there was only one means of redress that I could ever recommend to these unlucky wights, conscientiously, and that was to buy more, and try it again.

Sometimes "like would breed its like" in poultry; not often, however, within my humble experience! The amateurs were continually trying experiments, and grumbling, and constantly dodging from one "fancy" kind of fowl to another, in search of the right thing; and I endeavored to aid them in their pursuit; though they did not always attain their object, even when they purchased of me.

CHAPTER XLIII.
"STAND FROM UNDER!"

A copy of the Liverpool Express in January, 1854, now lies before me, from which I notice that the great metropolitan show in London, just then closed, surpassed all its predecessors; and that the excitement in England, at that time, was at its height. The editor asserts that "it was not an easy thing to exhaust the merits of the three thousand specimens of the feathered tribe there shown. No one," continues the writer, "who is at all conversant with natural history, can fail to find abundance of material for an hour's instruction and amusement. The general character of the exhibition has been already indicated; but this is one of those cases in which no description, however elaborate, can supply the place of personal inspection."

The British correspondent of the Boston Post, but a short time previously, writes that "the fowl fever, which has raged with so much violence in New England during the last three years, has extended to this country. There was a great crowing among the cocks at the late Smithfield cattle-show, and there seems to have been a still louder one at the Birmingham fair.

"The mania for the purchase of fine fowls," continues this writer, "was as furious there as if each of them had been the hen in the fable that found the jewel in the dunghill. Some pairs brought as high as forty pounds (two hundred dollars). One very fine pair of Cochin-Chinas sold for fifty pounds (two hundred and fifty dollars). In the catalogue some were marked at one hundred pounds, the valuation prices of owners who did not wish to sell. With you, in America, the rage for fowl-raising is simply one of fancy and profit,[16] but here it is the result—and a very beneficial one, too—of free trade. The price of eggs and poultry, owing to the great demand, does not fall; the price of grain, owing to free importation, does fall; and hence the great profit which is realized from keeping fowls. The Dorkings are great favorites, less difficult to raise than with you; and, though not abundant layers, still command, from the greater whiteness and superior delicacy of their flesh, a high price in the market. But the new Cochin-China varieties are in the greatest demand; the display of them at Birmingham exceeded all others, and they are now much sought after here."

Such accounts as these continually occupied the papers; and the fever had been kept furiously alive, by this means, until far into the year 1854. The most glowing accounts of the poultry-shows, at home and abroad, were kept up, too; but, in the mean time, Shanghae chickens multiplied rapidly, and grew up, and filled the barns and yards of "the people,"—and at the same time they did not forget how to eat corn, when they could get it.

And, in spite of the best endeavors of interested parties to galvanize the hum into a continued existence, it was now evident to those who watched its progress, as I had done, that the death-rattle was clearly in its throat.

At this juncture I was reminded of the details of the mulberry-tree bubble, the tulip fever, and the Merino sheep speculation; and I had taken care not to become involved in the final ruin of the hen-trade (as I knew many had been, and more were destined to be), in the eventual winding-up of this affair, which was now close at hand.

A brief account of the famous sheep mania (so like the hen fever in its workings) will not be uninteresting at this point; and its record here, perhaps, will have the effect of opening the eyes of some chance reader, haply, who is, even now, half inclined to try his hand in the chicken-trade.

This sheep bubble originated in the year 1815 or 1816, immediately after the treaty of Ghent, and at a period when thousands of the American people were actually "wool-mad" in reference to the huge profits that were then apparent, prospectively, in manufacturing enterprises.

In the summer of the last-named year (as nearly as can be fixed upon), a gentleman in Boston first imported some half-dozen sheep from one of the southern provinces of Spain, whose fleeces were of the finest texture, as it was said; and such, undoubtedly, was the fact, though the sheep were so thoroughly and completely imbedded in tar, and every other offensive article, upon their arrival in America, that it would have been very difficult to have proved this statement. But the very offensive appearance of the sheep seemed to imbue them with a mysterious value, that rendered them doubly attractive.

It was contended that the introduction of these sheep into the United States would enable our manufactories, then in their infancy, to produce broadcloths, and other woollen fabrics, of a texture that would compete with England and Europe. Even Mr. Clay was consulted in reference to the sheep; and he at once decided that they were exactly the animals that were wanted; and some of them subsequently found their way to Ashland.

The first Merino sheep sold, if I recollect right, for fifty dollars the head. They cost just one dollar each in Andalusia! The speculation was too profitable to stop here; and, before a long period had elapsed, a small fleet sailed on a sheep speculation to the Mediterranean. By the end of the year 1816 there probably were one thousand Merino sheep in the Union, and they had advanced in price to twelve hundred dollars the head.

Before the winter of that year had passed away, they sold for fifteen hundred dollars the head; and a lusty and good-looking buck would command two thousand dollars at sight. Of course, the natural Yankee spirit of enterprise, and the love which New Englanders bore to the "almighty dollar," were equal to such an emergency as this, and hundreds of Merino sheep soon accumulated in the Eastern States.

But, in the course of the year 1817, the speculation, in consequence of the surplus importation, began to decline; yet it steadily and rapidly advanced throughout the Western country, while Kentucky, in consequence of the influence of Mr. Clay's opinions, was especially benefited.

In the fall of 1817, what was then deemed a very fine Merino buck and ewe were sold to a gentleman in the Western country for the sum of eight thousand dollars; and even that was deemed a very small price for the animals! They were purchased by a Mr. Samuel Long, a house builder and contractor, who fancied he had by the transaction secured an immense fortune.

Now, Mr. Long had acquired the sheep fever precisely as thousands of others (in later days) have taken the hen fever. And, in this case, the victim was really rabid with the Merino mania. In proof of this, the following authentic anecdote will be amply sufficient and convincing.

There resided, at this time, in Lexington, Ky., and but a short distance from Mr. Clay's villa of Ashland, a wealthy gentleman, named Samuel Trotter, who was, in fact, the money-king of Kentucky, and who, to a very great extent, at that time, controlled the branch of the Bank of the United States. He had two sheep,—a buck and an ewe,—and Mr. Long was very anxious to possess them.

Mr. Long repeatedly bantered and importuned Mr. Trotter to obtain this pair of sheep from him, but without success; but, one day, the latter said to the former, "If you will build me such a house, on a certain lot of land, as I shall describe, you shall have the Merinos."

"Draw your plans for the buildings," replied Long, instantly, "and let me see them; I will then decide."

The plans were soon after submitted to him, and Long eagerly accepted the proposal, and forthwith engaged in the enterprise. He built for Trotter a four-story brick house, about fifty feet by seventy, on the middle of an acre of land; he finished it in the most approved modern style, and enclosed it with a costly fence; and, finally, handed it over to Trotter, for the two Merino sheep. The establishment must have cost, at the very least, fifteen thousand dollars.

But, alas! A long while before this beautiful and costly estate was fully completed, the price of Merinos declined gradually; and six months had not passed away before they would not command twenty dollars each, even in Kentucky.

Mr. Long was subsequently a wiser but a poorer man. He held on to this pair till their price reached the par value only of any other sheep; and then he absolutely killed this buck and ewe, made a princely barbecue, called all his friends to the feast, and whilst the "goblet went its giddy rounds," like the ruined Venetian, he thanked God that, at that moment, he was not worth a ducat!

This is absolute, sober fact. Mr. Long was completely and irretrievably ruined in his pecuniary affairs; and very soon after this "sumptuous dinner," he took sick, and actually died of a broken heart.

Along in the summer and fall of 1854, having watched the course that matters were taking in the chicken-trade, I became cautious; for I thought I heard in the far-off distance something indefinite, and almost undistinguishable, yet pointed and emphatic in its general tone. I listened; and, as nearly as I could make the warning out, it sounded like "Take care!"

And so I waited for the dénouement that was yet to come. In the mean time, I had a friend who for five long years had been religiously seeking for that incomprehensible and never-yet-come-at-able ignis fatuus, a genuine "Cochin-China" fowl of undoubted purity!

I had not heard of or from him for some weeks; until, one morning, about this time, a near relative of his sent to my house all that remained of this indefatigable searcher after truth; an accurate drawing of which I instantly caused to be made—and here it is!