Читать книгу The History of the Hen Fever. A Humorous Record - George P. Burnham - Страница 3

A public meeting was soon called at the legislative hall of the Statehouse, in Boston, which had the effect of drawing together a very goodly company of savans, honest farmers, amateurs, poulterers, doctors, lawyers, flats, fanciers and humbugs of one kind or another. I never attended one of the meetings; and only know, from subsequent public and private "reports," what occurred there.

On this first occasion, however, after a great deal of bosh and stuff, from the lips of old men and young men, who possessed not the slightest possible shadow of practical knowledge of the subject proposed to be discussed, it was finally resolved that the name for the (now defunct) association then and there formed, should be "The New England Society for the Improvement of Domestic Poultry"!!!

Now, the only objection I ever raised to this title was that it was not sufficiently lengthy! When applied to for my own views on the subject, I recommended that it should be called the "Mutual Admiration Society." But, though I was thought a great deal of by its members, – especially when the concern was short of funds, – in this case they thought my proposed title was altogether too applicable; and the original name, above quoted, was adhered to.

I was honored with the office of vice-president of the society, for Massachusetts; to which place I was reëlected annually, I believe, until the period of its death. For which honor I was not ungrateful, and in consideration of which, "as in duty bound, I have ever prayed" for the association's prosperity and weal.

The first name that was placed upon the list of subscribers to the constitution of this society was that of His Excellency Geo. N. Briggs, formerly Governor of this commonwealth. He was followed by a long list of "mourners," most of whom probably ascertained, within five years from the hour when they subscribed to this roll, that causing the cock's spur to grow between his eyes was not quite so easy a thing to accomplish as one "experienced poultry-breeder" at this meeting coolly asserted it to be! How many attempted this experiment (as well as numerous others there suggested as feasible), I am not advised. But I am inclined to think that those who did try it found it to be "all in their eye."

While these gentlemen were arranging the details of the new "society," and were deciding upon what the duties of the officers and committees should be, I quietly wrote out to England for information regarding the somewhat notorious "Cochin-China" fowl, then creating considerable stir among fanciers in Great Britain; and soon learned that I could procure them, in their purity, from a gentleman in Dublin, whose stock had been obtained, through Lord Heytsbury (then Lord Lieutenant of Ireland), direct from Queen Victoria's samples. I ordered six of them, – two cocks and four hens, – and in December, 1849, I received them through Adams & Co.'s Transatlantic Express.

At this period there was no telegraph established from Boston to Halifax, I believe. Some of the reporters for the daily city papers usually visited the steamers, upon their arrival here, to obtain their foreign files of exchanges; and here my birds were first seen by those gentlemen who have made or broken the prospects of more than one enterprise of far greater consequence than this "importation of fancy fowls" could seem to be.

But on the day succeeding the coming of those birds, several very handsome notices of the arrival of these august Chinamen appeared in the Boston papers, and a vast amount of credit was accorded to the "enterprising importer" of the outlandish brutes, that were described in almost celestial language!

After considerable trouble and swearing (custom-house swearing, I mean), the officers on board permitted my team to take the cage out of the steamer, and it was conveyed to my residence in Roxbury, where it arrived two hours after dark.

I had long been looking for the coming of these Celestial strangers, and the "fever," which I had originally taken in a very kindly way, had by this time affected me rather seriously. I imagined I had a fortune on board that steamer. I looked forward with excited ideas to beholding something that this part of the world had never yet seen, and which would surely astound "the people," when I could have the opportunity to show up my rare prize, – all the way from the yards or walks of royalty itself! I waited and watched, with anxious solicitude, – and, at last, the box arrived at my house. It was a curiously-built box – the fashion of it was unique, and substantial, and foreign in its exterior. I supposed, naturally, that its contents must be similar in character. That box contained my "Cochin-Chinas," – bred from the Queen's stock, – about which, for many weeks, I had been so seriously disturbed.

I am now well satisfied that the "Cochin-China" variety of fowl is a gross fable. If such a breed exist, in reality, we have never had them in this country. Anything (and everything) has been called by this name among us, in the last five years; but the engraving on the following page, in my estimation (and I have been there!), is the nearest thing possible to a likeness of this long petted bird; and will be recognized, I think, by more than one victim, as an accurate and faithful portrait of this lauded "magnificent" and "superb" bird!

I was anxious to examine my celestial friends at once. I caused the box to be taken into a shed, at the rear of the house, and I tore from its front a piece of canvas that concealed them from view, to behold a – well! n'importe– they were Cochin-China fowls!

But, since God made me, I never beheld six such birds before, or since! They resembled giraffes much more nearly than they did any other thing, carnivorous, omnivorous, – fish, flesh, or fowl. I let them out upon the floor, and one of the cocks seized lustily upon my India-rubber over-shoe, and would have swallowed it (and myself), for aught I know, had not a friend who stood by seized him, and absolutely choked him off!

This is truth, strange as it may seem; but I presume they had scarcely been fed at all upon their fortnight's voyage from Dublin, and I never saw any animals so miserably low in flesh, in my life, before. What with their long necks, and longer legs, and their wretchedly starved condition, I never wondered that the friendly reporters spoke of their appearance as being "extraordinary, and strikingly peculiar."

These were the original "Cochin-China" fowls of America. And they probably never had the first drop of Chinese blood in their veins, any more than had the man who bred them, and who knew this fact much better than I did – who knew it well enough.

I housed my "prize" forthwith, however, and provided them with everything for their convenience and comfort. The six fowls cost me ninety dollars. They were beauties, to be sure! When I informed a neighbor of their cost, he ventured upon the expressive rejoinder that I "was a bigger d – d fool than he had ever taken me for."

To which I responded nothing, for I rather agreed with him myself!

Nine months afterwards, however, I sold him a cock and three pullets, four months old, raised from those very fowls, for sixty-five dollars; and I didn't retort upon him even then, but took his money. The chickens I sold him were "dog-cheap," at that!