Part 16 (1/2)
”No, sir.”
”A thousand?”
”No.”
”Two thousand?”
”No, sir.”
”_Five_ thousand?”
”No! I will keep her.”
And I did. What was five thousand dollars to me? _Bah!_ I had the hen-c.o.c.k ”f.a.n.n.y Fern.” I didn't want money. My pocket-book was full to bursting, and so was my head with the excitement of the hen fever. And ”f.a.n.n.y” crowed again. Ah! _what_ a crow was f.a.n.n.y's!
”f.a.n.n.y” couldn't be bought, and so my compet.i.tors clanned together to destroy her. The old fogies didn't like this breed, and they resolved to annihilate all chance of its perpetuation. I placed her in better quarters, where she would be more secure from intrusion or surprise. I told her of my fears,--and _didn't_ she crow? She flapped her bright black wings, and crowed all over. ”c.o.c.k-a-doodle-_doo--oo--oo_!” shouted ”f.a.n.n.y,” while her sharp eyes twinkled, her fair throat trembled, and the exhilarating tone of defiance seemed to reach to the very tips of her s.h.i.+ning toe-nails. ”c.o.c.k-a-too--_roo--oo_!” she shrieked; ”let 'em come, too! See what they'll _do--oo_! I'll take care of _you--oo_! Don't get in a _stoo--oo_! Pooh--pooh--poo--_poo_!”
Maybe ”f.a.n.n.y” didn't crow! And _I_ learned to crow. It was beautiful!
She crowed, and I crowed. We crowed together. She in her way,--I in mine. The duet was mellifluous, cheering, soul-stirring, life-invigorating, _profitable_.
”f.a.n.n.y” went into New York State, crowing when she left, crowing as she went, and continuing to crow until she crowed the community there clear through the next fourth o' July, out into the fabled millennium. She crowed Messrs. Derby & Miller into a handsome fortune, and Mason & Brothers into ditto. She crowed one Hyacinth into the shreds of a c.o.c.ked hat and battered knee-buckles. She crowed the Hall breed of old hens so far out of sight that the ”search for Sir John Franklin” would be a fool to the journey requisite to overtake that family. And still she _crowed_.
The more they bade her stop, the more she wouldn't.
”c.o.c.k-a-tootle--_too_!” ”I-know-what-_I_-shall--_doo_!”
”What-do-I-care-for--_yoo_?” ”This-world-is-all--foo--_foo_.”
”Leave-_me_-and-I'll-leave--_you_.” ”If-not-I'll-lamm--_you_--TOO--OO!”
And ”f.a.n.n.y” crowed herself at last into the good graces of two _long brothers_ in Gotham, where she is now crowing with all her might and main. Let her crow!
She was a remarkable ”bird,” that rollicking, joyous, inexplicable, flirting, funny, furious ”f.a.n.n.y Fern.” I hear her now again!
”c.o.c.k-A-DOODLE--DOO--OO!” ”Young 'Un,--you-will-do!!”
”_Et--tu--Brute--o-o-o!!!_”
CHAPTER XXIII.
CONVALESCENCE.
One striking feature that exhibited itself in the midst of this mania, was the fact that prominent among the leading dealers in fancy poultry, constantly appeared the names of clergymen, doctors, and other ”liberally-educated” gentlemen.
In Ohio, Pennsylvania, New York, and most of the Eastern States, this circ.u.mstance was especially noticeable; and more particularly in England. Whether this cla.s.s of the community had the most money to throw away, or whether their leisure afforded them the better opportunity to indulge in this fancy, I cannot say; but one thing is certain,--among my own patrons and correspondents, for the past five or six years, I find the names of this cla.s.s of ”the people” by far the most conspicuous and frequent.
There came into my office, one morning late in 1853, a Boston physician (whom I had never seen before), who introduced himself civilly, and invited me to ride a short distance with him up town. I was busy; but he insisted, and his manner was peculiarly urgent and determined.
”My carriage is at the door,” he said; ”and I will bring you back here in twenty minutes. I have some pure-blood stock I desire to dispose of.”
”What _is_ it, doctor?” I asked.