Beautiful Joe by Marshall Saunders (most important books of all time txt) 📕

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Fairport. The walls were white and clean, so were the little ladders

that led up to different kinds of roosts, where the fowls sat at night.

Some roosts were thin and round, and some were broad and flat. Mrs. Wood

said that the broad ones were for a heavy fowl called the Brahma. Every

part of the little house was almost as light as it was out doors, on

account of the large windows.

 

Miss Laura spoke of it. "Why, auntie, I never saw such a light hen

house."

 

Mrs. Wood was diving into a partly shut-in place, where it was not so

light, and where the nests were. She straightened herself up, her face

redder than ever, and looked at the windows with a pleased smile.

 

"Yes, there's not a hen house in New Hampshire with such big windows.

Whenever I look at them, I think of my mother's hens, and wish that they

could have had a place like this. They would have thought themselves in

a hen's paradise. When I was a girl we didn't know that hens loved light

and heat, and all winter they used to sit in a dark hencoop, and the

cold was so bad that their combs would freeze stiff, and the tops of

them would drop off. We never thought about it. If we'd had any sense,

we might have watched them on a fine day go and sit on the compost heap

and sun themselves, and then have concluded that if they liked light and

heat outside, they'd like it inside. Poor biddies, they were so cold

that they wouldn't lay us any eggs in winter."

 

"You take a great interest in your poultry, don't you auntie?" said Miss

Laura.

 

"Yes, indeed, and well I may. I'll show you my brown Leghorn, Jenny,

that lay eggs enough in a year to pay for the newspapers I take to keep

myself posted in poultry matters. I buy all my own clothes with my hen

money, and lately I've started a bank account, for I want to save up

enough to start a few stands of bees. Even if I didn't want to be kind

to my hens, it would pay me to be so for sake of the profit they yield.

Of course they're quite a lot of trouble. Sometimes they get vermin on

them, and I have to grease them and dust carbolic acid on them, and try

some of my numerous cures. Then I must keep ashes and dust wallows for

them and be very particular about my eggs when hens are sitting, and see

that the hens come off regularly for food and exercise. Oh, there are a

hundred things I have to think of, but I always say to any one that

thinks of raising poultry: 'If you are going into the business for the

purpose of making money, it pays to take care of them.'"

 

"There's one thing I notice," said Miss Laura, "and that is that your

drinking fountains must be a great deal better than the shallow pans

that I have seen some people give their hens water in."

 

"Dirty things they are," said Mrs. Wood; "I wouldn't use one of them. I

don't think there is anything worse for hens than drinking dirty water.

My hens must have as clean water as I drink myself, and in winter I heat

it for them. If it's poured boiling into the fountains in the morning,

it keeps warm till night. Speaking of shallow drinking dishes, I

wouldn't use them, even before I ever heard of a drinking fountain. John

made me something that we read about. He used to take a powder keg and

bore a little hole in the side, about an inch from the top, then fill it

with water, and cover with a pan a little larger round than the keg.

Then he turned the keg upside down, without taking away the pan. The

water ran into the pan only as far as the hole in the keg, and it would

have to be used before more would flow in. Now let us go and see my

beautiful, bronze turkeys. They don't need any houses, for they roost in

the trees the year round."

 

We found the flock of turkeys, and Miss Laura admired their changeable

colors very much. Some of them were very large, and I did not like them,

for the gobblers ran at me, and made a dreadful noise in their throats.

 

Afterward, Mrs. Wood showed us some ducks that she had shut up in a

yard. She said that she was feeding them on vegetable food, to give

their flesh a pure flavor, and by-and-by she would send them to market

and get a high price for them.

 

Every place she took us to was as clean as possible. "No one can be

successful in raising poultry in large numbers," she said, "unless they

keep their quarters clean and comfortable."

 

As yet we had seen no hens, except a few on the nests, and Miss Laura

said, "Where are they? I should like to see them."

 

"They are coming," said Mrs. Wood. "It is just their breakfast time, and

they are as punctual as clockwork. They go off early in the morning, to

scratch about a little for themselves first."

 

As she spoke she stepped off the plank walk, and looked off towards, the

fields.

 

Miss Laura burst out laughing. Away beyond the barns the hens were

coming. Seeing Mrs. Wood standing there, they thought they were late,

and began to run and fly, jumping over each other's backs, and

stretching out their necks, in a state of great excitement. Some of

their legs seemed sticking straight out behind. It was very funny to see

them.

 

They were a fine-looking lot of poultry, mostly white, with glossy

feathers and bright eyes. They greedily ate the food scattered to them,

and Mrs. Wood said, "They think I've changed their breakfast time, and

to-morrow they'll come a good bit earlier. And yet some people say hens

have no sense."

 

 

 

 

 

       *       *       *       *       *

 

CHAPTER XIX (A BAND OF MERCY)

A few evenings after we came to Dingley Farm, Mrs. Wood and Miss Laura

were sitting out on the veranda, and I was lying at their feet.

 

"Auntie," said Miss Laura, "What do those letters mean on that silver

pin that you wear with that piece of ribbon?"

 

"You know what the white ribbon means, don't you?" asked Mrs. Wood.

 

"Yes; that you are a temperance woman, doesn't it?"

 

"It does; and the star pin means that I am a member of a Band of Mercy.

Do you know what a Band of Mercy is?"

 

"No," said Miss Laura.

 

"How strange! I should think that you would have several in Fairport. A

cripple boy, the son of a Boston artist, started this one here. It has

done a great deal of good. There is a meeting to-morrow, and I will take

you to it if you like."

 

It was on Monday that Mrs. Wood had this talk with Miss Laura, and the

next afternoon, after all the work was done, they got ready to go to the

village.

 

"May Joe go?" asked Miss Laura.

 

"Certainly," said Mrs. Wood; "he is such a good dog that he won't be any

trouble."

 

I was very glad to hear this, and trotted along by them down the lane to

the road. The lane was a very cool and pleasant place. There were tall

trees growing on each side, and under them, among the grass, pretty wild

flowers were peeping out to look at us as we went by.

 

Mrs. Wood and Miss Laura talked all the way about the Band of Mercy.

Miss Laura was much interested, and said that she would like to start

one in Fairport.

 

"It is a very simple thing," said Mrs. Wood. "All you have to do is to

write the pledge at the top of a piece of paper: 'I will try to be kind

to all harmless living creatures, and try to protect them from cruel

usage,' and get thirty people to sign it. That makes a band.

 

"I have formed two or three bands by keeping slips of paper ready, and

getting people that come to visit me to sign them. I call them

'Corresponding Bands,' for they are too far apart to meet. I send the

members 'Band of Mercy' papers, and I get such nice letters from them,

telling me of kind things they do for animals.

 

"A Band of Mercy in a place is a splendid thing. There's the greatest

difference in Riverdale since this one was started. A few years ago,

when a man beat or raced his horse, and any one interfered, he said:

'This horse is mine; I'll do what I like with him.' Most people thought

he was right, but now they're all for the poor horse and there isn't a

man anywhere around who would dare to abuse any animal.

 

"It's all the children. They're doing a grand work, and I say it's a

good thing for them. Since we've studied this subject, it's enough to

frighten one to read what is sent us about our American boys and girls.

Do you know, Laura, that with all our brag about our schools and

colleges, that really are wonderful, we're turning out more criminals

than any other civilized country in the world, except Spain and Italy?

The cause of it is said to be lack of proper training for the youth of

our land. Immigration has something to do with it, too. We're thinking

too much about educating the mind, and forgetting about the heart and

soul. So I say now, while we've got all our future population in our

schools, saints and sinners, good people and bad people, let us try to

slip in something between the geography, and history, and grammar that

will go a little deeper, and touch them so much, that when they are

grown up and go out in the world, they will carry with them lessons of

love and good-will to men.

 

"A little child is such a tender thing. You can bend it anyway you like.

Speaking of this heart education of children, as set over against mind

education, I see that many school-teachers say that there is nothing

better than to give them lessons on kindness to animals. Children who

are taught to love and protect dumb creatures will be kind to their

fellow-men when they grow up."

 

I was very much pleased with this talk between Mrs. Wood and Miss Laura,

and kept close to them so that I would not miss a word.

 

As we went along, houses began to appear here and there, set back from

the road among the trees. Soon they got quite close together, and I saw

some shops.

 

This was the village of Riverdale, and nearly all the buildings were

along this winding street. The river was away back of the village. We

had already driven there several times.

 

We passed the school on our way. It was a square, white building,

standing in the middle of a large yard. Boys and girls, with their arms

full of books, were hurrying down the steps and coming into the street.

Two quite big boys came behind us, and Mrs. Wood turned around and spoke

to them, and asked if they were going to the Band of Mercy.

 

"Oh, yes; ma'am," said the younger one "I've got a recitation, don't you

remember?"

 

"Yes, yes; excuse me for forgetting," said Mrs. Wood, with her jolly

laugh. "And here are Dolly, and Jennie, and Martha," she went on, as

some little girls came running out of a house that we were passing.

 

The little girls joined us and looked so hard at my head and stump of a

tail, and my fine collar, that I felt quite shy, and walked with my head

against Miss Laura's dress.

 

She stooped down and patted me, and then I felt as if I didn't care how

much they stared. Miss Laura never forgot me. No matter how earnestly

she was talking, or playing a