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t*Si.:i?ci:.r-:.

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Th« copy filmad h«rc has b««n rsproducad thanks
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MICROCOPY nSOlUTION TKT CHART

(ANSI ond ISO TtST CHART No 2|

A APPLIED Ifvt/IGE I

^~^ 16bJ East Main sir«et

^^ Rnr Hester. New rofk 14609 USA

^5 '■' *82 - 0300 - Phone

^B { ? ' rj) 288 - 5089 - Fo«

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TIIK

UIAUY OF A (JOOSK UUil.

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/ looked about me -u-ith luhat Ste-vemon calls a '^/ine, Jiz^.y, mudJif-hcuJeJ joy " (page j)

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rv.--?iJL?i'

THE I) I A II Y
OF A GOOSE GIKL

KATE DOUGLAS WIGGIN

IVith lllustrailons by
CLAUDE A.SHEPPERSON

TORONTO

GEORGE N. MO RANG & COMPANY, Limited

1902

•^.'aBJ.<rt,ew-

m?|gsso^sBBm!sas..^^]srrfrJf^3SlPiSS^

To the hens, ducks, and geese

who so kindly gave me

sittings for these

sketches the hook

is gratefully

inscribed

•."A; '

^'■•'K-

f-Sii

; '

;V7r:i,f.«!5?J^-

r^. .•V''^'^;***. ^.^A ■^,,,j .. ,^;}

:smiix';ssmpsMi2>.

LIST OF ILLUSTHATIONS

/ liMikfil about me irith irhnt SUrfniuin c<tiU n 'JIm, dixzy,

mudttl,ht<tdedj»y'(iui;i,,'i) Frontinpurr

Ti>'>r,ii/rr,'fy Houte |

Life conrenjiM there, jimt at thr puhlir liurkjmnd .... 3

The hoiinin are mt about the (ireeii 5

.\frii. Ilracrn jq

Afr. Iltaien H

The Wmnlinaneote farrier Uj

Stuffed and net on irheelt I4

The »itting htiiH ^7

I/enit . . . f/o to /ted at a rirtuouK hour ]Q

DuekM and geene . . . iroutd roam the Htrettn till morning . . 20

The fxde wa» not long enough 21

They . . . irat/dle under the irrong fence 22

IIouAiiig and hinning like II fjewitdered orcheiitra 2,'J

Harried and iterked by the big geene 24

/// nolifary uplendor 05

Drythod irirningn irhic/t are never heeded 27

The mothi r goen off to bed ou

Cornelia and the leeb-fooled Uracchi 29

An /irphan aoyliim gO

I'hube and I folloire.d her Kfealthili/ 31

t'naied out . . . by youthfvl I'urioHity 33

Nine huddle together ;j4

Of a wandering mind 33

^yith tangled hair, nrratrhed noDe», and no heti8 36

^fore pride of Imo ring, anil Unn to be proud of 43

Mr. Heaven discomfited 4q

ivL'^MiBssxxsfWfvsiyfif^isjBSii^::

LI«T OF ILLUSTRATIONS

7%rtattn^ . . . to halfK in my hatul 5]

thu can atteaift Ar a (iotm did ^

Tht g*0st . fttm iKt rifkffard jm

" P»or littUehni), . . , 't nner ttni afytoritf" Qfl

Mr. Ilmttn tttnt out to ihoot wild rabbiti 59

fhttoffntiorwiththttnlirtfnmiljf 01

Tht lift . . . i$ a mint txtiting ami utnrying imt . . . . M

Hi* tpouH took a hritf immtntuU with him M

Tht frtediMnof the f^itft at my trptnf 74

Puffing eotily at hi* pipt 77

A JItn Confertnee 70

Arguing quettiom of ditt g|

Th« aflernwn tfuion w<u mo»t tifiting §2

Not atked to the Voiiftrtnee ^

Coming horn* u-

Workmtn were trudging home 97

Along the highway an

The eeent of the hay g^

The last of June „_„

A place in uhieh it i» to eaty to br good 94

Not particularly attracted by the /Miltry gg

Leaned languidly ngaintt the netting 97

Staggered and reeled n^

Caught her mn red handed gy

Ik wot treated tummarily and imartly jqo

The Six Bell* found the lait poultry toinewhat tough . . .103
The gadabout hen .«.

She wa* unable to take the four ramt* 107

The creature wn» well mounted J09

Phaba and UladwiKh j,.

'^* ■«iiEs;''«r:)k'irj<«KZjCB'^'SM..'U{aarT..mvi^<rT«'ib::7,cv

Thrnu"-/.' Hi;

TiOMxvi IK 1 I Fahm, NViir Barliury i ••n,

.liily I, IlK) .

N !illiuling to myself a.s :i (ioosp
(Jill, I am usin^ only the most
niodost of my titles ; for I am
also ;i poultry maid, a toiuler of
ISt'l^iaii haros and rabbits, and a
slu'iiherdt'ss, hut ^ particularly
fancy the rule of (Jooso (tirl, be-
cause it recalls the (fernuin fairy tales of my early
yo\ith. when I always yean-.od, but never hoped, to be
l)recisely what I now am.

As I was jolting along these charming Sussex roads

[1]

I*:

thwothrr day, a fat Imfl |..i.iy a,,-! ^ i,,,,,^. ,.„ri Uutg my
maiiiit<r uf progri'mtum, I thaiuuil h|k.ii il„. village gf
Marbiiry (irBeii.

On., glance was .'lumgh for any woman, who. having
-yi'ii to H..p, .uuil.l M... with ih. II. ; hnt I tua.h' annuran.'..
.loubly aure hy .iriving ulnrnt a litil... ..trug«ltng to con-
real my ntfwlK.rii i^nsniou from tht. Htal.UsU.y who wax
my m'ort. Th.'n, it U-ing high tuM.n of a c-1oii.I1i.m day.
I df«ot..ul..d Jrom thn trap and .aid U. th« aMioniMht-.l
yokfl: "Vou miy go hark I., fh.- Ilydropathi..; lam
H|)ondi»g a month or two lun-. Wait a niomoiit — I 'II
send a mc'.H.Hago. plca.s«> ! "

I then Hcnbbled a word or two to thoso having nii- in
cuBtody.

" I am very tir«'d of p«'(»pl,.," thi- noti- ran. "ami want
to rest myHolf by living a whiU* with things. AddroHS
me (if you must) at Itarbury (Jroi-n |>osf-omcc. or at all
<'v«Mil.s send uw a U>x of simpl.- clothing tlu-r.' — nothing
l»uf shirts and skirts, plfase. I cannot lorgot that I am
Lilly twenty miles (rom Oxonbridgo (though it might Ix-
one hundred and twciitv. which is the rca.son I adiuc it),
but I rely ui>on you to keep an honorable distance your-
selves, and not to divulge my place ..f retreat to others,
especially to — you know whom I Do not pursue me.
I will never be taken alive ! '"

Having cut. thus, the cable tli;it bound me to civiliz.a-
tiou, and having seen the btitr pot.y and the dazed yokel

.'I^'rrJA^^i^W,

V^mmjsiSfm^wfim

TIIK IMAIIY <•) A «.(K>ilK CkrRt.

iliiin|>|K<ar lit n rlniul ot tUmi, I ItHiktil eiImmiI mo with
what Sii'Vi'tis«)«i nilU :i *• lim», i'i//v . imii|(lli).luiiiil"tl joy,"
tho joy of .1 suci't'sisful rt'U'l or u liU ruli'tl ntitt. I'Uaity
of inoni'y in my |iurs«5 — tluit wsw uiiroiii;intie, of coume,
hut It Miiii|ititii'(| matttTM — iuul iiitiu hours of tlaylight
iviiiiiiiiiiig 111 which to titiil a ItKl^uig.

'ft

I.
i-

Lift (ini-tri^ri lirri, mi ai ihc puhiu Juit-ponJ
I J

■M

THE DIARY OF A OOOSE GIRL

The village is one of the oldest, and I am sure it must
be one of the quaintest, in England. It is too small to
be printed on the uiap (tin honor that has spoiled more
than one Arcadia), so pray do not look there, but just
believe -n it, and some day you may bo rewarded by
driving into it by chance, as I did, and feel the same Co-
lumbus thrill running, like an electric current, tlirough
your veins. I withhold specific geographical informa-
tion in order that you may not miss that Columbus
thrill, which comes too seldom in a world of railroads.

The Green is in the very centre of l.arbury village,
and all civic, political, family, and social life converges
there, just at the public duck-pond — a wee, sleepy lake
with a slope of grass-covered stones by which the ducks
descend for their swim.

The houses aie set about the Green like those in a
toy village. Thay are of old brick, with crumi)led, up-
and-dowu roo^s of deep-toned red, and tufts of stonecrop
growing from the eaves. Diamond-paned windows, half
open, ad'- it the sweet summer air; and as for the gar-
dens in front, it would seem as if the inhabitants had
nothing to do but work in them, there is such a riotous
profusion of color and bloom. To add to the effect,
there are always pots of flowers hanging from the trees,
blue flax and yellow myrtle; and cages of Java sparrows
and canaries singing joyously, as well they may in such
a paradise.

[4]

THE DIARY OF A GOOSE GIRL

Tie Aoutts are lei about the Green

The shops are idyllic, too, as if Nature had seized
even the man of trade and made him subservient to her
designs. The general draper's, where I fitted myself
out for a day or two quite easily, is set back in a tangle
of poppies and sweet peas, Madonna lilies and Canter-
bury bells. The shop itself has a gay awning, and what
do you think the draper has suspended from it, just as
a picturesque suggestion to the passer-by ? Suggestion
I call it, because I should blush to use the word adver-
tisement in describing anything so dainty and decorative.

[5]

i i

i 1,1

TlIK DIARY OF A C.OOSE (JIHI.

Well, then, garlands of shoes, if you please! Baby
bootlets of bronze ; tiny ankle-ties in yellow, blue, and
scarlet kid; glossy patent-leather pumps shining in the
sun, with festoons of slippers at the corners, flowery
slippers in imitation Berlin wool-work. If you make
this picture in your mind's eye, just add a window above
the awning, and over th'? fringe of marigolds in the win-
dow-box put the draper's wife dancing a rosy-cheeked
baby. Alas ! my words are only black and white, I fear,
and this picture needs a palette drenched in primary
colors.

Along the street, a short distance, is the old watch-
maker's. Set in the hedge at the gate is a glass case
with Multun, in Porro painted on the woodwork.
Within, a little stand of trinkets revolves slowly ; as
slowly, I imagine, as the current of business in that
quiet street. The house stands a trifle back and is cov-
ered thickly with ivy, while over the entrance-door of
the shop is a great round clock set in a green frame
of clustering vine. The hands pointed to one when
I passed the watchmaker's garden with its thicket of
fragrant lavender and its murmuring bees ; so I went in
to the sign of the Strong i' the Arm for some cold lunch-
eon, determiring to patronize The Running Footman at
the very next opportunity. Neither of these inns is
starred by Baedeker, and this fact adds the last touch of
enchantment to the picture.

[6]

I''

THE niAHY ()|. A COOSK C.IHI.

\fl

The landlady at the Strong i' the Arm stabbed me in
the heart by telling mo that there were no apartments
to let in the village, and that she had no private sitting,
room in the inn ; but she speedily healed the wound by
saying that I might be accommodated atone of the farm-
houses in the vicinity. Did J object to a farm-'ouse ?
Tiien she could cheerfully recommend the Evan's farm,
only 'alf a mile away. She 'ad understood from Miss
I'ho'be Evan, who sold her poultry, that they would
take one lady lodger if she did n't wish much waiting
upon.

In my present mood I was in search of the strenuous
life, and eager to wait, rather than to be waited upon ;
so I walked along the edge of the (Jreen, wishing that
some mentally unbalanced householder would ce a
sudden fancy to me and ask me to come in and lodge
a while. I suppose these families live under their roofs
of peach-blow tiles, in the midst of their blooming gar-
dens, for a guinea a week or thereabouts, yet if they
"undertook" me (to use their own phrase), the bill for
my humble meals and bed would be at least double that.
I don't know that I blame them ; on- .. juld have proper
compensation for admitting a world-stained lodger inco
such an Eden.

When I was searching for rooms a week ago, I
chanced upon a pretty cottage where the woman had
sometimes let apartments. She showed me the premises

[7j

d-"

, n

THE DFAflY Ol- A (lOOSK «;IKL

and asked me if I would mind taking my meals in her
own dining-room, where I could be served privately at
certain hours ; and, since she had but the one sitting,
room, would I allow her to go on using it occasionally ?
also, if I had no special preference, would I take the
second-sized bedroom and leave her in possession of the
largest one, which permitted her to have the baby's crib
by her bedside ? She thought I should be quite as
comfortable, and it was her opinion that in making
arrangements with lodgers, it was a good plan not to
" bryke up the 'ome any more than was necessary."

" Bryke up the 'ome ! " That is seemingly the mp^--^-
nant purpose with which I entered Barbury Green.

[8]

OiiKAJhlisit

O&MMiiAit^

■Tulv 4th.

Enter the family of Thornycroft Farm, of which I
am already a member in good and regular standing.

r introduce Mrs. Heaven first, for she is a self-satu-
rated person who would never for-ive the insult should
she receive any lower place.

She welcomed me with the statement : « Wo do not
take lodgers here, nor boarders ; no lo.lgers, nor board-
ers, but we do occasionally admit paying guests, those
who look as if they would appreciate the quietude of
the plyce and be willing as you might say to remunerate
according.''

I did not mind at this particular juncture what I was
called, so long as the epithet was comparatively unob-
jectionable, so I am a paying guest, therefore, and I
expect to pay handsomely for the handsome appellation.
Mrs. Ifeaven i. short and fat ; she fills her dress as a
pin-cushion fills its cover; she wears a cap and apron,
and she is so full of platitudes that she would have burst
had I not appeared as a providential outlet for them.
Her accent is not of the farm, but of the town, and
smAcks wholly of the marts of trade. She is repetitious,

[9]

•J''

lij

THE DIARY OF A OOOSE filRL

too, as well as platitudinous. '« I 'ope if there 's any-
'hink you require you will let us knew, let us know,"
she says several times each day ; and whenever she
enters ray sitting-room she prefaces her conversation
with the remark : « I trust you are finuing it quiet here,
miss ? It 's the quietude of the plyce that is its charm,
yes, the quietude. And yet ' (she dribbles on) " it wears
on a body after a while, miss. I often go into Wood-
mucket to visit one of my sons just for the noise, simply
for the noise, miss, for nothink else in the world but the

noise. There 's nothink like
noise for soothing nerves
that is worn threadbare with
the quietude, miss, or at
least that 's my experience ;
and yet to a strynger the
quietude of the plyce is its
charm, undoubtedly its chief
charm ; and that is what our
paying guests always say,
although our charges are
somewhat higher than other
plyces. If there 's anythink
you require, miss, I 'ope
you '11 mention it. There is
not a commodious assort-
ment in Barbury Green, but
[10]

THE niARY OF A (iOOSR GIHL

■t H

we can always send the pony to Woodmucket in case

of urgency. Our paying guest last sunuuer was a Mrs,

I'ollock, and she was by way of having sudden fancies.

Voung and unmarried though you are, miss, I think you

will tyke my meaning without my speaking plyner ?

Well, at six o'clock

of a rainy afternoon,

she was seized with

an unaccountable

desire for vegetable

marrows, and Mr,

'Eaven put the pony

in the cart and went

to Woodmucket for

chem, which is a
great advantage to
be so near a town,
and yet 'ave the qui-
etude."

Mr. Heaven is
merged, like Mr,
Jellyby, in the more
shining qualities of

his Avife. A line of description is too long for him.
Indeed, I can think of no single word brief enough, at
least in English. The Latiu " nil " will do, since no
language is rich in words of less than three letters.

r--

% IM

THE DIARY or A CiDOSK OIRI.

He iH nice, kind, bald, timid, thin, and so colorless that
ho can scarcely bo discerned save in a Htrong light.
When Mrs. Heaven goes out into the orchard in search
of him, I can hardly help calling from my window.
"Hear a trifle to the right, Mr.s. Heaven — now to the
left — just in front of you now — if you put out your
hands you will touch him."

I'hiebe, aged seventeen, is the daughter of the house.
She is virtuous, industrious, conscientious, and singularly
destitute of physical charm. She is more than plain ;
she looks as if she had been planned without any de-
finite purpose in view, made of the wrong materials,
been badly put together, aiid never properly finished off ;
but " plain " after v\l is a relative word. Many a plain
girl Jias been married for her beauty ; and now and then
a beauty, falling under a cold eye, has been thought
plain.

Phoebe has her compensations, for she is beloved by,
and reciprocates the passion of, the Woodmancote carrier,
Woodmucket being the English manner of pronouncing
the place of his abode. If he " carries " as energetically
for the great public as he fetches for Thoebe, then he
must be a rising and a prosperous man. He brings her
daily, wild strawberries, cherries, birds' nests, peacock
feathers, sea-shells, green hazel-nuts, samples of hens'
food, or bouquets of wilted field flowers tied together
tightly and held with a huge, moist, loving hand. He

[12]

TMK DIAWY «)K A ciOUMR QIRI.

bos fine curly hair of sandy hue, which forma an aureole
ou his brow, and a reddish beard, which makes another
inverted aureolo to match, round hin chin. One cannot
look at him, e!i;)eciully when thn sun shines tl .-ough
him, without thinking how lovely he would be if stuffed
and set un wheels, with u little string to drag him about.

Tht fyoidmancoit carntr

Phoebe confided to me that she wa. on the eve of
loving the postman when the carrier came across her
horizon.

[13]

■il

11^

TMK r>IAHV tih A CiOosK c;lHr.

" It .IwH n't .lo U> [^ t.K) hysty, ,Io«.h it. mi^ •/ •• „|,p
ankecl n».. a.H w« w.-ro woclir.K the „ni<.ti Im.I. .. I waM t..
Kivo tJ... iHwtinan hin an8«r,.r on t\w Mumhy nixht. an.l
it wa« on th« Monday n.onur.K that Mr. (ila.lwUh rna.h,
hiB fifHt trip hero as oarrior. I ,nay «ay I n.-v.-r wyvml
from that inom^nt. and no morfl .li.l he. Whpn I think
how near I canu. to promi«in»r the iH.Htman it givcH im
'I turn." (I can understand that, for I once nu-t tho
man I nearly promised years before
to marry, and we Iwth exjK'rience.l
«ucli a sense of relief at licinj? free
instead <.f bound tliat we came near
falling in h)ve for sheer joy.)

The last and most important mera-
I't'r < f the household is tho Square
Haby. His name is AUHMt Edward,
and he is really five years old and
no l)aby at all; but his appear.ance
on this planet wa.s in the nature of a complete surpri.se
to all partie.s conperned, an.l he is spoiled acconJingly.
He has a square head a.ul jaw. s,,uare shoulders, square
hands and feet. He is red and white and soli.l and
stolid and slow-witted, as the young of his class com-
monly are, and will make a bulwark of the nation in
couroe of time. I should think; for England has to
produce a few thousand such square babies every year
for use in the colonies and it. the standing army.

[14]

TIIK lilAKV OK A uoo'il'; lilHL

Albert Kdwunl h&n aln-ady a military gait, and when
hi' haM acquiri'il a habit of ol)e(liPiu'«« ut all oomj>arable
with his iM)wi'r of onminaiul, he will Ih» abl« to tak^ up
thi' whito man's biinU-n with «ii8tinKiiislu'(l success.
Mi'antiiiin I can iievtM- look at him without marveling
how the KiigliHh climate can transmute bacon and eggs,
tea and the soliil household loaf inU) such radiant ro«e8
aud lilies us bluom umuu his cheeks and lips.

• 11
J. r

■II

r 15 1

3 k

t_-

III

July «h

Thorn vrKorT is hy way of bein»( a nu.. . inmltry
farm.

In reaching it from Barbury (Jrcfn.you taki; th« first
h'ft-hand road, ro till yoii drop, and therr* you are.

It ri'ininds m«j of my " grandmother's farm at Older."
Did you know tho song when you were a child? —

Mv tcraruliniithrr h*<l « v-r\ tltix Urm
'\y»y il.wii ill thr lUlil^ i,f (Hdi^r.
Wiih » .k^lmk t,«r«,
Ami • cluik^liirk iherf,
lltTf aiiil thirf a rluik^luck,
<,'lu< k-< imk h«T.> aiul tlirre,
Down ill thr firidi at OI.Ut.

It goes on forever by the simple subterfuge of chang-
ing a few words iii eacli verse.

My Kr«nil tn.it hrr ha<l ■ very fliif farm
'Way ili.wii 111 thi- lii-liN <if (ild*r.

With a i|iiiii k-<iii«ck here,

And u <(iia< k-i|uai k lh*rH,

111 n .ill ihrre u i(iiai kH|uark,

•juaik-ijiiatk hire and thtri;,
l><)Wii ill th.- li.ld' at Older.

[16 J

'wm

TMIf IIIAHV itV A I.OOHK ».|MI,

Thi* In follo'"!!.! I)y tliP Kobhlr.jtuhblp, moo-moo, Imm.
b«a, Ho., m lotiK as lhi» 1 .reatp's tm;i«triation ami the
infant's hri<ath hold k'kmI. Thf tiini' \h pnitty ami I .lo
not know, at <li«l nut, when I wan youiiK, a mori! fascti-
nating lyrio.

ThornyiToft H«iu«t' must have Itchingpil tc) a ooijatry

Til lilltig tin$

gentleman once upon a time, or to more than one; men
who built on a bit here and thoro onco in a hundred
years, until tinally wo havu this charmingly irregular
and dilapidatid wholo. Vou go up thico stepH into
Mrs. Heaven's room, down two into mine, while Pha-be's

[17]

? '^

« I

THE DIARY OF A (JOOSE CIRI,

I'.'

is up in a sort of turret witli long, narrow lattices o})en-
ing into tho creepers. There are crooked little stair-
cases, passages that branch off into other passages and
lead nowhere in particular; I can't think of a better
house in whicli to play hide and seek on a wet day. In
front, what was once, doubtless, a green, is cut up into
greens ; to wit, a vegetable garden, where the onions,
turnips, and potatoes grow cosily up to the very door-
sill; the utilitarian aspect of it all being varied by some
scarlet-runners and a scattering of poppies on '■ither
side of the path.

The Belgian hares have their habitation in a corner
fifty feet distant ; one large inclosure for poultry lies
jusl. outside the sweetbriar hedge ; the others, with all
the houses and coops, are in the meadow at the back,
where also our tumbler pigeons are kept,

Phoebe attends to the poultry ; it is her department.
Mr. Heaven has neither the force nor the fimnse re-
quired, and the gentle reader who thinks these qualities
unneedod in so humble a calling has only to -pend a few
days at Thornycroft to be convinced. Mrs. Heaven
would be of use, but she is dressing the Square Baby in
the morning and putting him to bed at night just at the
hours when the feathered young tilings are undergoing
the same operation,

A Goose Girl, like a poet, is sometimes born, some-
times otherwise. I am of the born variety. No train-

[18]

I 13

Tin; niAKY OK A (;()OSE (illlL

ing was necessary ; I put my head on ray pillow as a
('.()mpli<'ate(l piodiu-tof uKxlerii ci/ilizatidii on a Tues-
day ni^'lit, and or. 't. Wednesday morning 1 awoke as a
Goose (iirl.

My destiny ' > .li'^re'l d r.ng the day, but at eight
o'cdock I iieai ■: > ft iridic s^ii:'-. king in the direction of
the duck-ponds, and, aimlessly drifting in that direc-
tion, I came upon I'luKbe trying to induce ducks and
drakes, geese and ganders to retire for the night. They
have to be driven into inclosures behind fences of wire
netting, fastened into little rat-proof bo.xes, or shut

go to hed at a "virtuous hour

[19]

I.-,

THE DIAHY OK A (JOOSK OIRI,

into separate coops, so as to be safe from their natural
enemies, the rat.s and foxes ; which, obeying, I suppose,
the law of supply and demand, abound in this neigh-
borhood. The old ganders are allowed their liberty,

being of such age,
discretion, sagaci-
ty, and pugnacity
that they can be
trusted to tight
their own battles.
The intelligence
of hens, though
modest, is of such
an order that it
prompts them to
go to bed at a vir-
tuous hour of their
own accord; but
ducks and geese
have to be materi-
ally assisted, or I
believe they would
roam the streets till morning. Never did small boy
detest and resist being carried off to his nursery as these
dullards, young and old, detest and resist being driven
to theirs. Whether they suffer from insomnia, or night-
mare, or whether they simply prefer the sweet air of

[20]

Ducks and geese . . . would roam the ureeis
till marring

i i

THK niAHV OK A (iOOSK (,IUI,

5.1

1 :

■: 1

t '.I

7'Af ^c/f ivas net /ofig enoug^h

liberty (and death) to the odor of captivity and the
coop, I have no means of knowing.
PhcEbe stood by one of the duck-ponds, a long pole in

[21]

TlIK niARY 0|. A (;()(,SK cruL

her hand, and a helpless expression in f ioughlike
countenance of Ihms, whore aimless con, .rs a.,1 fea
tares unite to make a kin.l of facial blur. ( \Vhat does
the carrier see i„ it '.') TI.e pole was not long enough to
reach - ducks, a.,d Pha-bo's metl.o.I lacked spirit and
adroitness, so that it was natural, perhaps, that they re-
fused to leave the water, the evening being warm, with
an uncommon fine sunset.
I saw the situation at once and ran to meet it with a

Tl'ty . . . waJJU under ,he iLrongferce

glow of interest and anticipation. If there is anything
in the world I enjoy, it is making somebody do some-
thing that he does n't want to do ; and if, wlien victory

[22]

*' ^ .",^---

•JT'

^nfm]

rilE DIAKY OK A (;<)(JSK (illtl.

perches upon my banner, the somebody can be brought
to say that he ()Uf,'ht to have done it without my mak-
ing him, that adds the unforgettable touch to pleasure,
though seldom, alas ! does it happen. Then ensued the

Honking and hissing' likt a bewildered orchestra

delightful and stimulating hour that has now become a
feature of the day ; an hour in which the remembrance
of the table d'hote dinner at the Hydro, going on at
identically the same time, only stirs me to a keener joy
and gratitude.

The ducks swim round in circles, hide under the
willows, and attempt to creep into the rat-holes in the
banks, a stupidity so crass that it merits instant death,
which it somehow always escapes. Then they come

[23]

1^4]

.4f:

TIIK niAHV OK A JiOOSK (JIHI,

out iti couples and
waddle under the
wrong fence into the
lower meadow, fly
madly under the tool-
house, pitch blindly
in with the sitting
heiis, and out again
in short order, all the
I y* " time quacking and

Harriid andpttktd by the iig getse Squawkillg, houking

and hissing like a
bewildered orchestra. Ky dint of splashing the water
with poles, throwing pebbles, beating the shrubs at the
ponds' edges, "shooing" frantically with our skirts,
crawling beneath bars to head them off, and prodding
them from under bushes to urge them on, we finally get
the older ones out of the water and the younger ones
into some sort of relation to their various retreats ; but,
owing to their lack of geography, hatred of home, and
general recalcitrancy, they none of them turn up in the
right place and have to be sorted out. We uncover the
top of the little house, or the inclosure as it may be, or
reach in at the door, and, seizing the struggling victim,
drag him forth and take him where he should have had
the wit to go in the first instance. The weak ones get
in with the strong and are in danger of being trampled ;

[24]

TMK mAKV OK A <;0()SK (ilMI,

two May Rollings that look almost tull-grown havo run
into a house with a Itrood of (luckliivj,'.s a week old.
There are twenty-seven crowded into one coop, tive m
another, nineteen in another; the t,'oslin}? with one leg
has to conio out, an<l the dueklinj,' threatened wilh the
gapes; their place is with the " invaleeds," :us Tha-l*
calls them, but they never learn the location of the
hospital, nor have the slightest scrui)le about spreading
contagious diseas(;s.

Finally when wo have separated and sorted exhaus-
tively, an operation in which Thcebe shows a delicacy of

In lolitjry sp/tnjcr

discrimination and a fearlessness of attack amounting
to genius, we count the entire uuu '.er and tind several
miasing. Searching for their animate or inanimate
bodies, we "scoop" one from under the tool-house,
chance upon two more who are being harried and pecked
by the big geese in the lower meadow, and discover one
sailing by himself in solitary splendor in the middle
of the deserted pond, a look of evil triumph in his bead-

[25]

5 'h

TIIK PIAHV OK A r.OOSK (IIIM,

like eyo. Htill wc lack oim young duckling, and ho at
length is found dead by tin? hedge. A rat ha« ovidontly
seizetl him and choked him at a single tlirottle, but in
such haste that ho hits not had time tu carry away the
tiny body.

" I'oor think I " says Thti-lxi tearfully ; " it looks as if
it was 'it with some kind of a wopping. I don't know
whatever to do with the rata, they 're gcttiu' that fearo-
cious ! "

IJeforo I was admitted into daily contact with the
living goose (my previous intercourse with him liaving
been carried on when gravy and stutling obscured his
true i)ersonalit.y), I thought him a very Dreyfus among
fowls, a sorely slandered bird to whom justice had never
been done ; for even th(> gentle Darwin is liard upon
him. My oj)inion is undergoing some slight moditica-
tions, but I withhold judgment at present, hoping that
some of the follies, faults, vagaries, and limitations tluit
1 observe in IMitebe's geese may bo due to I'h(id)e's edu-
cational methods, which were, before my advent, those
of the darkest ages.

^ -I

[26]

^^^-

■■^■liiiaHHi

^ «b-//

itryiA^J WJrningi u/Aii h art ntxir hitJtU

July Wh.
By the time the ducks and gt-eso are incarcerated for
the night, the reasonable, sensible, practical-niinded hens
— especially those whose mentality is increased and
whose virtue is heightened by the responsibilities of
motherhood — have gone into their own particular rat-
j)roof boxes, wnore they are waiting in a semi-somnolent
state to have the wire doors closed, the bricks set against
them, and the bits of sacking Hung over the tops to keep
out the draught. We have a great many young families,
both ducklings and chicks, but we have no duck mothers
at present. The variety of bi/d which I'lut^be seems to
have bred during the past year may be called the New

[27]

TIIK niAHV iiK A i;orisK »il«t.

Diick, with nTtiuit riitliciil idww nlM.ut w«»iiiairs spluTo.
What will huiijM-n to 'riicriiycroft if wfi ili'Vi'|i)|i u N».w
ll"ii ami .1 N'i'W {'uw, u\y iiiiaKinali<iii tailn to oonci'ivi'.
'I'lu'iij ilut'H Hot fH'oiii to Ik» tin- ^»li^'l^t<•Mt ilaiiK'T for the
inomeiit, howi-v.-r. un<l cmr l-.'iis lay ami Mt ami nit ami
lay a.s if laying and sitting who tin; twin |»ur|M)8«s of
liffl.

The natiiri' of tlio hen .s«'eins to broaclfii with tlio
(lutii'sof maternity, hut I think niys..lf that wo prt-Humt'
a littlf upon In-r amiability and natural nHithi'rlmess.
It is om> tiling to duHire a family of one's own, to lay
•'ggs with that idea in view, to sit upon thcMii three long
weeks and hatch out and bring up a nice brood of chicks.
It must be <piito anotlier to have one's eggs abstractul

day by day anil eaten by a
callous public, the nest filled
with deceitful substitutes,
and at t\w end of a dull and
weary period of hatching to
bring into the world another
person's children — children,
too, of the wrong size, the
wrong kind of bills and feet,
and, still more subtle griev-
ance, the wrong kind of in-
stincts, leading them to a dangerous a(,uatic career, one
which the mother may not enter to guide, guard, and

[28]

T/ie mother goit ojf' ti, bed

J» ., •

^mk.m*^

I V

<* f 'cSf'"

Till' DIAHV UK A «i(Kmr (ilRI.

teach; one on th«< liriiik of winch h\w muMt pver ntand,
utti«niiK ((ry<«hi>t| wuriiiti^'H which uri' iii'vit hcDcleil.
Thoy i^row iiHt'd to tliin MtranK« «)r<lor of thiiij^s iifter a
hit, it H tnw, and an- U-hh iiiixioiin uitil •■xc'it«<l. When
tht> iliinl^-broutl n>turiiH Muffly u^aiii uiul a^uitl from
.lUt thn heii-inothfr thiiikn will prove a watery grave,

«s

Corm/ij aid ikt vitk-J'itQttd Graakt

she l)ecomes accustoiiu'd to tho situation, I suppose. I
find that at night she stanils by the pond for what she
considers a decent, st'lf-respecting length of time, calling
the ducklings out of the water; then, if they refuse to
come, the n»other goes otY to ned and leaves them to
Providence, or I'hti'be.

The brown hen that we have named Cornelia is the
best mother, the one who waits longest and most pa-
tiently for the web-footed (iracchi to finish theiv swim.

[29]

TMK rUAMV «»»• A i.Jtimr l.lltt.

Whfti arl.i.'k ^n tuki-n otif ..f tli- in.Mil,yt„r (an V) fix.
call, it) Aii.l r„f„H..,| hy uli i\w .,U...r h-n^, (•„„„.Ii:i ,;..„.
erally tti...,,|,tH it, il,uu.^-h «h.. |„».l Iwi-Ivm of |„.r <.wii
wlii-ii w« liTKuii usiiiK li'T iM nil nrpliiin a«y lurii. " W,i,g„
are nuule to wtreti-li. " h|,« ^hmiis tn nay .h.-flrfiiliy. m„|
with a kimi KJaiH',. ..f h.-r roun.! ,.y.- hI,,. wol.om.., i|„.

wai..U.r.T un.l tl toa.st. Ml,.. ,.v..,i ton.l...! fur a tu.i..

the ufTHpruiK of an alw..,it..iii.i.l..,|. liKM.|H.a.l..<l phfamitit
who H,.w over a four-foot wall aiul loft h,.r yom.K Ix-hind

Wi QfpkiiH allium

her to starve; it w.ih not a N.nv I'liea.sant, pithor; for
the most conservativ,. and old-fasliioiu'd of her trik- oc-
••asionally commits domt-Htic so]<H;isnis of this sort.

There is no tellinK wlit'ii. when-, or how the maternal
instinct will assert it ."if. Anion^ ou,. Thornycroft cata
is a certain Mrs. (Jrcyskin. She had not boen seen for
many days and Mrs. Heavon concluded that she had
hidden herself somewhere with a family uf kittiMis ; but

[30]

TMK DIAMV Ol' A L.tOMH «.l»»t.

an th« Kiipply of tliiit nrttcii* with ti>t iiiorc thttli pquftU
tli« ilarimml, Wf hiul iidt Hi-arcla-d fur ln-t wit) jt««5ial

/t?ui

Tli«' other <hiy Mrs*. (iroyHkiii apjx'ari'il at th«' ilairy
'ItMir, ami whi-ii nhc l.utl Itrt-n t^•^\ I'hdlx' and I followtnl

b**- ueiiit2u:\. trom ;i distaiict' 8hi' waiki-d slowly
atiost as . \'.f.r mind were quite Irce from harasaing
caiw;. .iaii niiaiiy upproachoil a deserted cow-house where

[31]

if'

THE DIARY OK A GOOSE GlhL

there was a great mound o> straw. At this moment
she caught sight of us and tuKi^d ia another direction
to throw us off the scent. We persevered in our inten-
tion of going into her probable retreat, ami were cau-
tiously looking for some sign of life in the haymow,
when we heard a soft cackle and a ruffling of plumage.
Coming closer to the sound we saw a b)"ck hen brood-
ing a nest, her bright bead eyes turning nervously from
side to side ; and, coaxed out from her protecting wings
by youthful curiosity, came four kittens, eyes wide open,
warm, happy, ready for sport !

The sight was irresistible, and Pho)be ran for Mr.
and Mrs. Heaven and the Square Baby. Mother Hen
was not to be embarrassed or daunted, even if her most
sacred feelings were regarded in the light of a cheap en-
tertainment. She held her ground while one of the kits
slid up and down her glossy back and two others, more
timid, crept underneath her breast, only daring to put
out their pink noses ! We retired then for very shame
and met Mrs. Greyskin in the doorway. This should
have thickened the plot, but there is apparently no ri-
valry nor animosity between the co-mothers. W^e watch
them every day now, through a window ia the roof.
Mother Greyskin visits the kittens frequently, lies down
beside the home nest, and gives them their dinner.
While this is going on Mother Blackwing goes modestly
away for a bite, a sup, and a little exercise, returning to

[32]

msmamm

r/^nfiC^.?^^^4t^m

THE DIARY OF A (iOOSK CJIKr.

the kittens when the cat leaves them. It is pretty to
see her settle down over the tour, fat, furry dumplings,
and they seem to know no difference in warmth or com-
fort, whichever mother is brooding them ; while, as their

Coaxed out . . . by youthful curio tity

eyes have been open for a week, it can no longer be
called a blind error on their part.

When we have closed all our small hen-nurseries for
the night there is still the large house inhabited by the
thirty-two full-grown chickens vvhicli Phoebe calls the
broilers. I cannot endure the term and will not use it.
"Now for the April chicks," I say every evening.

" Do you mean the broilers ? " asks Phoebe.

"I mean the big April chicks," say I.

" Yes, them are the broilers," says she.

[33]

THE DIARY OF A GOOSE GIRL

But is it not disagreeable enough to be a broiler when
one's time comes, without having the gridiron waved in
one's face for weeks beforehand 'I

The April chicks are all lively and desirous of seeing
the world as thoroughly as possible before going to roost
or broil. As a general thing, we find in the large house
sixteen young fowls of the contemplative, flavorless, re-
signed-to-the- inevitable variety; three more (the same
three every night) perch on the roof and are driven
down ; four (always the same four) cling to the edge of
the open door, waiting to fly oif, but not in, when you
attempt to close it ; nine huddle together on a place in
the grass about forty feet distant, where a small coop
formerly stood in the prehistoric ages. This small coop
was one in which they lodged for a fortnight when they
were younger, andVhen those absolutely indelible im-

Nine huddle together
[at]

V Vtp% Hn r -im-ru;«i

THE DIAHY OK A GOOSE GIRI.

pressions are formed of which we read in educational
maxims. It was taken away long since, but the nine
loyal- (or stupid) Casabiancas cling to the sacred spot
where its foundations rested ; they accordingly have to
be caught and deposited bodily in the house, and this

. "-^

f. ^.

it:

of a -wandering mind

requires strategy, as they note our approach from a con-
siderable distance. %

Finally all are housed but two, the little white cock
and the black pullet, who are still impish and of a wan-
dering mind. Though headed off in every direction,
they fly into the hedges and hide in the underbrush.
We beat the hedge on the other side, but with no avail.
We dive into the thicket of wild roses, sweetbriar, and
thistles on our hands and knees, coming out with tangled

[35]

THE DIAIIV OK A (iOOSE OIKL

11.

With tangled hair, icratchtd noses, and no hens

hair, scratched noses, and no hens. Then, when all has
been done that human ingenuity can suggest, Phoebe
goes to her late supper and I do sentry work. I stroll
to a safe distance, and, sitting on one of the rat-proof
boxes, watch the bushes with an eagle eye. Five min-
utes go by, ten, fifteen ; and then out steps the white
cock, stealthily tiptoeing toward the home into which

[36]

MM^M^isSSF::

THE DIARY OK A (iuUSE (ilKL

he refused to go at our instigation. In a moment out
creeps the obstinate little beast of a black pullet from
the opposite clump. The wayward pair meet at their
own door, which I have left open a f'iw inches. When
all is still I walk gently down the field, and, warned
by previous experiences, approach the house from be-
hind, I draw the door to softly and quickly ; but not
80 quickly that the evil-minded and suspicious black
pullet has n't time to spring out, with a make-believe
squawk of fright that induces three other blameless
chickens to fly down from their perches and set the
wjioie flock in a flutter. Then I fall from grace and
call her a Broiler ; and when, after some minutes of hot
pursuit, I catch her by falling over her in the corner
by the goose-pen, I address her as a fat, juicy Broiler
with parsley butter and a bit of bacon.

[37]

July 10th.
At ten thirty or so in the morning the cackling be-
gins. I wonder exactly what it means ! Have the for-
est-lovers who listen so respectfully to, and interpret
80 exquisitely, the notes of birds — have none of them
made psychological investigations of the hen cackle?
Can it be simple elation ? One could believe that of the
first few eggs, but a hen who has laid two or three hun-
dred can hardly feel the same exuberant pride and joy
daily. Can it be the excitement incident to successful
achievement? Hardly, because the task is so extremely
simple. Eggs are more or less alike ; a little larger or
smaller, a trifle whiter or browner; and almost sure
to be quite right as to details ; that is, the big end never
gets confused with the little end, they are always ovoid
and never spherical, and the yolk is always inside of
the white. As for a soft-shelled egg, it is so rare an
occurrence that the fear of laying one could not set the
whole race of hens in a panic ; so there really cannot
be any intellectual or emotional agitation in producing
a thing that might be made by a machine. Can it be sim-

[38]

THE IHAav OK A (iOOSK (JIHI.

ply "fussiness"; since the jHioplo who have the least
to do commonly make the most flutter about doing it ?
Perhaps it is merely conversation. " Cnt-nit-cut-cut-
ntt-nAiinU / . . . I have Hnished my strictly fresh egg,
have you laid yours ? Make haste, then, for the cock
has found a gap in the wire-fence and wants us to wander
in the strawberry-bed . . . Cut^tTuUnt-eut-uKHnit !
. . . Every moment is precious, for the Goose Girl will
find us, when she gathers the strawberries for her lunch-
eon. . . . CuUut-cut-cHt ! Oh the way out we can find
sweetplaces to steal nests. . . . Cut^utt-ut ! ... I am
80 glad I am not sitting this heavenly morning ; it w a
dull life!"

A Lancashire poultry man drifted into Barbury Green
yesterday. He is an old acquaintance of Mr. Heaven
and spent the night and part of the next day at Thorny-
croft Farm. He possessed a deal of fowl philosophy
and tells many a good hen story, which, like fish stories,
draw rather largely on the credulity of the audience.
We were sitting in the rick-yard talking comfortably
about laying and cackling and kindred matters when he
took his pipe from his mouth and told us the following
tale, — not a bad one if you can translate the dialect :

" Aw were once towd as, if yo' could only get th' hen's
egg away afooar she hed sin it, th' hen 'ud think it hed
med a mistek an' sit deawn ageean an' lay another.
" An' it seemed to me it were a varra sensible way o'

[39]

l tl

m
it

THE DIARY OK A GOOSE OIRL

lukkin' at it. Sooa aw set to wark to mek a nest as 'ud
tek a rise eawt o' th' hens. An* aw dud it too. Aw
med a nest wi' a fause bottom, th' idea bcin' as when a
hen hed laid, th' egg 'ud drop through into a box under-
neyth.

•* Aw felt varra preawd o' that nest, too, aw con tell
yo', an' aw reraemlMr aw felt quite excited when aw see
an awd black Minorca th' best layer as aw !ied, gooa an'
settle herst deawn i' th' nest an' get ready for wark.
Th' hen seemed quite comfortable enough, aw were glad
to see, an' geet through th' operation beawt ony seemin'
trouble.

" Well, aw darsay yo* know heaw a hen carries on as
soon as it 's laid a egg. It starts ' chuckin' ' away like
a showman's racket, an' after tekkin' a good luk at th'
egg to see whether it 's a big 'un or a little 'un, gooas
eawt an' tells all t' other hens abeawt it.

" Neaw, this black Minorca, as aw sed, were a owdish
bird, an' maybe knew mooar than aw thowt. Happen
it hed laid on a nest wi' a fause bottom afooar, an' were
up to th' trick, but whether or not, aw never see a hen
1-ik mooar disgusted i' mi life when it lukked i' th' nest
an' see as it hed hed all that trouble fer nowt.

" It woked reawnd th' nest as if it could n't believe its
own eyes.

" But it dud n't do as aw expected. Aw expected as
it 'ud sit deawn ageean an' lay another.

[40]

ESB^pi

■u

TIIK DIARY OK A OOOnR OIHI,

" But it just gi'e one wonderin' sooart o' chuck, an*
then, after a Iohr stare reawnd th' hen-coyt, it wokod
eawt, as mad a hen as aw 've ever sin. Aw fun eawt
after, what th' long stare meant. It were tekkin' fare-
well ! For if yo '11 believe me that hen never laid
another egg i* ony o' my nests.

" Vurra like it laid away in a spot wheear it could hev
summat to luk at when it hed done wark for th' day.

" Sooa aw lost mi best layer through mi actin*, an
aw 've never invented owt sen."

C«]

t;i

lii ml

Onb loams to Ix* mwleat by living on a poultry farm,
for there are constant expositions of the most tlwplorablo
vanity among th« cocks. We have a (•ojiplc of jHJa-fowl
who certainly arc an addition to the landscape, as they
step mincingly along the square of turf we dignify by
the name of lawn. The head of the house has a most
languid and self-conscious strut and his microscopic
mind is fixed entirely on his splendid trailing tail. If
I could only master his language sufficiently to tell him
how hideously ugly the buck view of this gorgeous fan
is, when he spreads it for the edification of the observer
in front of him, ho would of course retort that there
is a "congregation side" to everything, but I should at
least force him into a defense of his tail and a confes-
sion of its limitations. This wouM be new and unplea-
sant, I fancy, and if it produced no perceptible effect
upon his sui>er-arrogant demeanor, I might remind him
that he is likely to be used, eventually, for a feather
duster, imless, indeed, the Heavens are superstitious
and prefer to throw his tail away, rather than bring ill
luck and the evil eye into the house.

[42]

Tim niANv OK A (>nn<ii( (itnr.

The longpr I stu.Iy the cock, whfthiT Ulack SpanisJi,
WhiU) LpKhorn, l><irkmK. or the fommoii biniyurd fowl,
th« morn iiitiiimtfly I urn acquainted with him. tlie l^gi
I am impresH^d with his charaiteT. H« hua more priU«

M»rt prijt tj itariKg, tnj /tii la bt fruud of

of bearing, and less to l)e proud of, than any bird I know.
He is indolent, though he struts pomiwusly over the
grass as if the day were all too short for his onerous
duties. He calls the hens alxjut him when I throw corn
from the basket, but many a time I have seen him swal-
low hurriedly, and in j)rivate, some dainty titbit he has
found unexpectedly. He has no particular chivalry.
He gives no special encouragement to his hen when he
becomes a prospective father, and renders little assist-
ance when the responsibilities become actualities. His

[43]

v,m

THR niAMY Iff A fHMlMK C.IKI.

only ptnonal m«Msa|{Q or contrtbution to the worhl m
hi* raiiiniiu c'(M;k-a-«l(Kxlle-<Ux>, whu-li, h-iriK i»tt»«rfil
ti.oBt frequently at «lawM, u thn most illtimtvl and of-
fviiHlvn of all musical iii)ta«. It i>% ho utuwcrnHnry tixi,
tut if the ilay dul o'tuome soon enough without hia warn-
ing; but I iiupiKMie he in anxious t»> waki'ii his hi-iut ami
get them at their dally ta«k, and so he dmturlw the eu-
tire community. In nhort, I diiilik(< him; his awagKer,
hii autocratic »trut, his greed, bis irritating st-lf-con-
sciousuess, his endlesr parading of himself up and down
in a procession of one.

Of course his character is largt-ly thi* result of |K)ly.
gamy. His weaknesses are only what might \m exix-cted ;
and as for the hens, I have considerable resjMct for the
patience, sobriety, and dignity with which they endure
an institution {mrticularly offensive to all women, In
their ease they do not even have the sustaining thought
of its lieing an article of religion, so tiny are to be com-
plimented the mure.

Thcr*^ is nothing on earth so feminine a.s a hen — not
womanly, 8imj)ly feminine. Those inn of insight who
write the Woman's I'age in the .Sunday newspapers
study lif^ns more than women, I sometimes think ; at any
rate, their favorilu tyi)es are all present on this i)oultry
farm.

.S«)me f.amilieH of White Leghorns spend most of their
time in the rick-yard, where they look extremely pretty,

[«]

th«ir !«iiwnd<^r wbitt* Mliafi*^ and rpil rnrab* and wattle*
wpI. «t««t off by tho iiarkgnnun i "t j. olden hayrmkn.
Tlwri* is a grwat oak-trvi! in on«« coriu't, with :» tall lad-
der leaning .iKaniHt it* trunk, and a <• ipilal rtKistinx-
\}\a/'vi otj a lotiK hranch rnnninK ;it right aiinl. :• with lh«'
ladder. I try tt» ><ji««nd a '|u^rtt»r of an liuur tht'rii
evory ni»{ht wfore BupjM'r, just fur the plrasnrtt uv ^«-
ing th«' f«^ttther«d " wonu'n-folkH " mount that l:idd«>r.

A dozi'ii "t iIm'Iu Murround th.- fo-it, waiting ri'Htl»'«Mly
for tlwir tiirn. <>ne Httlf whiff lady Huttfrn up on thi»
lowcNt round and |M'rilii m tlnT«' iiiiti. nhi* reviews the
pa.Ht, fa<!«*H th»> preHent, and fort'caHt.t the future; during
whu'h time Hhe in gutlieriiig i-iuiruge for the next jump.
Hhe eai'kle.s, takes up one ftM)t and tlien tlie other, tilts
Imek and forth, holds up her .skirt.s and drops them
again, eo<;ks her hesul nervou.sly to .see whether they are
all staring at her Ih-Iow, gives hiilf a dozen jueliminary
springs whieh mean nothing, declares she can't and
won't go up any faster, iinties her Itoimet -irings and
pu.shes iKick her hair, pulls down her dress to cover her
toes, and finally alights on the next r«'und, swaying to
and fro until she gains her e(|iiililiriuiii, when she pro-
ceeds to enact the same .scene over again.

All this time the hens at the foot of the ladder are
criticising her nietluxls and i'.xclaiming at the length of
time she recpiires in mounting; while the cocks stroll
al)out the yard keeping one eye on the ladder, pick ng

^ (I

THE DIARV OF A CiOOSE GIHU

up a seed hvw and thero, and Kivinj? a masculine sneer
now and then at the toofaniiliar scene. Tliey appruacli
the party at intervals, but only to remark that it always
makes a man laugh to see a woman go up a Isulder.
The next hen, stirred to the depths l.y this speech, flies
up entirely too fast, loses her liea<l, tumbles off the top
round, and has to make the ascent over again. Thus it
goes on and on, this petite romedu' humaine, and I could

enjoy it with my whole

heart if Mr. Heaven did

not insist on sharing

^Jfyc^^BiS^^^^^jh:^ ^'»i' spectacle with me.

^NjP^Hi^^IIyi^ He is so inexpressibly

dull, so destitute of
humor, that I did not
think it likely he would
see in the performance
anything more than a
flock of hens going up
a ladder to roost. Hut
he did ; for there is no
man so blind that he
cannot see the follies
of women ; and, when
he forgot himself so far
as to utter a few genial, silly, well-worn reflections upon
femininity at large, I turned upon him and revealed to

[46]

Mr. Heaven Stcomfited

m^:

THE DIARY OF A GOOSE OIRL

him some of the characteristics of his own sex, gained
from an exhaustive sliitly of the barn-yard fowl of the
masculine gender. He went into the house discomfited,
though chuckling a little at my vehenjence; but at least
I have nuule it forever impossible for him to watch his
hens without an o<:casional glance at the cocks.

I 1

■

[47]

', uA

1^1

VII

July ISth.

Oh! the pathos of a poultry farm! Catherine of
Aragon, the bhick Spanish hen that stole her nest,
brought out nine chicks this morning, and the business-
like and marble-hearted Vluv\m has taken them away
and given them to another hen who has only seven.
Two mothers cannot be wasted on these small families
— it would not be profitable; and the older mother,
having been tried and found faithful over seven, has
been given the other nine and accepted them. What of
the bereft one? She is miserable and stands about
moping and forlorn, but it is no use fighting against the
inevitable ; hens' hearts must obey the same laws that
govern the rotation of crops. Catherine of Aragon feels
her lot a bitter one just now, but in time she will suc-
cumb, and lay, which is more to the point.

We have had a very busy evening, beginning with
the rats' supper — delicate sandwiches of bread and
butter spread with Paris green.

We have a new brooil of seventeen ducklings just
hatched this afternoon. When we came to the nest the
yellow and brown bunches of down and fluff were peep-

[48]

THE DIAHY OF A GOOSE GIRL

ing out from under the hen'a wings in the prettiest
fashion in the worhl.

" It 's a noble hen ! " I said to Phctbe.

" She ain't so nowble as she looks," Phoebe answered,
grimly. " It was another 'en that brooded these eggs
for near on three weeks and then this big one come
along with a fancy she'd like a family 'erself if she
(rould steal one without too much trouble ; so she drove
the rightful 'en off the nest, finished up the last few
days, and 'ere she is in jMJSsession of the ducklings ! "

" Why don't you take them away from her and g".ve
them back to the first hen, who did most of the work ? "
I asked, with some spirit.

" Like as not she would n't tyke them now," said
Phoebe, as she lifted the hen off the broken egg-shells
and moved her gently into a clean box, on a bed of
fresh hay. AVe put food and drink within reach of the
family, and very proud and handsome that highway
robl)er of a her looked, as she stretched her wings over
the seventeen easily earned ductklings.

Going back to the old nesting-box, I found one egg
forgotten among the shells. It was still warm, and I
took it up to run across the field with it to Phcebe. It
was heavy, and the carrying of it was a queer sensation,
inasmuch as it squirmed and " yipped " vociferously in
transit, threatening so unmistakably to hatch in my
hand that I was decidedly nervous. The intrepid little

[49]

:ll
111

THE DIAHY OK A OOOSE OIIII.

youngster hurst his slu'll as he touched l'h(L'l)e's apron,
and has Ijeeonie the strongest and handsomest of the
brooil.

AH this tending of (h)\vny young things, this feeding
an.l putting to Iml, this petting and nursing and rear-
ing, is sueh pretty, c uforting woman's work. I am
sure Phoebe will make a l)etter wife to the carrier for
liaving \mn\ a poultry maid, and though gocxl enough
for most pra(!tieal purposes when 1 came here, 1 am an
infinitely better wonum now. I am afn.id I was not
particularly nice the last few days at the Hydro. Such
a lot of dull, pro.sy, =n(iuisitive, l)<)thering old tabbies!
Aunt Margaret furnishing imaginary symptoms enough
to keep a fond husband and two trained nurses dis-
tracted; a man I hail never encouraged in my life com-
ing to stay in the neighborhood and turning up daily
for rejection; another man taking rooms at the very
hotel with the avowed puri)()se of making my life a
burden ; and on the heels of lM)th, a widow of thirty-
five in full chase ! SnuiU wonder I thought it more dig-
nified to retire than to compete, and so I did.

1 need not, however, have cut the threads that lK)und
me to Oxenbridge with such particularly sharp scissors,
nor given them such .. vicious snap ; fbv, so far as I can
okserve, the little world of which I imagined myself the
sun continues to revolve, and, probably, about some
other centre. 1 can well imagine who has taken up

[60]

THK niAKY OK A (;«)OSK GIUI.

ill

TkreattneJ . . . to hatch in my hand

that delightful hut somewhat exposed and responsible
position — it would Ih' just like her!

r am perfectly happy where I am; it is iiot that;
but it seems s.i strange that they ean Ix' perfeetly happy
without me, after all that they — after all that was said

[51]

THK DIARV OK A OOOSE <iiRI,

on the subject not inimy dayn age. Nothing ttirns out
as one expecis. There Imve l)een no hot pur.suits, no
rewards offered, no billn imted, no printed placards
issued describing the beauty and charms of a young
person wlio supposed herself the cynosure of every eye.
Heigh ho ! What dws it matter, after all V (Jne can
always be a Goose Girl !

I'm

liii

I wonder if the hen mother is cpiite, quite satisfied
with her ducklings ! Do you siii)pose the fact of hatch-
ing and brooding them breaks down all the sense of dif-
ference ? Does she not sometimes reflect that if her chil-
dren were the ordinary sort, and not these changeUngs,
she would be enjoying certain pretty little attentions
dear to a mother's heart ? The chicks would Ite peck-
ing the food off her broad beak with their tiny ones, and
jumping on her back to slide down her glossy feathers.
They would be far nicer to cuddle, too, so small and
graceful and light; the changelings are a trifle solid
and brawny. And personally, just as a matter of
taste, would she not prefer wee, round, glancing hwuls,
and pointed beaks, peeping from under her wings, to
these teaspoon-shaped things larger than her own "/ I
wonder !

We are training fourteen large young chickens to sit
on the perches in their new house, instead of huddling
together on the floor as has been their habit, l)ecause

[62]

f^i 'f k

THE DIARY OK A (iOOSK GIRI.

we disoovpr rat-hoh's under tho wire Hooring occasion-
ally, and ft'ar that tiH's may Ih- bittt-n. At nine o'clock
I'hu'lK' and 1 lift the chickens one by one, and, a« it
were, glue them to their perches, squawking. Three

Oni can alwayi bt a Gaou Girl

nights have we gone patiently through with this per-
formance, but they have not learned the lesson. The
ducks and geese are, however, greatly improved by the
application of advanced educational mcthoils, and the
rifjime of perfect order and system instituted by Me
begins to show residts.

There is no more violent splashing and pebbling,

[53]

i\'

TIIK DIARY OK A fiOOSR (iIRL

racing, chasing, separating. The polp, indtwl, Htill ha«
to be producwl, but at th« first niajfstio wave of my
hand they scuttle toward the shore. The geese turn to
the right, cross the rick-yard luid go to their |)en ; the
May ducks turn to the left for their coops, the dune
ducks follow the hens to the top nieailow, and even the
idiot gosling has an in.ipiration now and then and
stumbles on his own habitation.

iMrs. Heaven has no reverence for the principles of
Comenius, Pestalozzi, or Herbert Spencer as applied to

Tkt gttu

crou lit rick-yard

poultry, and whv^n the ducks jul geese came out of the
pond badly the other night and went waddling and
tumbling and hissing all over creation, did not approve
of my sending them back into the pond to start afresh.

[54]

TUB DIARY OF A OOOSK GIRI.

" I consider it a great waste of time, of good time,
miss," she said; *' an<l, after all, do yoi consider that
ediicattnl poultry will Iw any \mt.U>r eating, or that it
will lay nior» than one egg a day, miss ? "

I have given the matter soine attention, and I fear
Mrs. Heaven is right. A «liiek, a goose, or a hen in
which I have develoj)ed a larger brain, implanted a
sense of duty, or instilled an idea of H»>lf-governinent, is
likely, on the whole, to be leaner, not fatter. There is
nothing like obeying the voice of conscience for taking
the flesh off one's bones ; and, speaking of conscience,
Phoebe, whose metaphysics are of the farm farmy, says
that hers " felt like a hunlaid hegg for dyes " after she
had jilted the postman.

As to the eggs, I am sure the birds will go on laying
one a day, for 't is their nature to. Whether the pro-
duct of the intelligent, conscious, logical fowl will be as
rich in quality as that of the uneducated and l)arbario
bird, I cannot say ; but it ought at least to be equal to
the Denmark egg eaten now by all Londoners; and if^
perchance, left uneaten, it is certain to Ix; a very supe-
rior wife and mother.

^V^lile we are discussing the subject of educating
poultry, I confess that the case of Cannibal Ann gives
me much anxiety. Twice in her short career has she
been under suspicion of eating her own eggs, but
Phoebe has never succeeded in catching her infiagrante

[66]

WjSL

TIIR DIARY 0¥ A OOOKK (ilRL

delicto. That «'minent tlotfotivo serviri^ waa r»»icrve<l
for inp, and I huv»- Uh'u ttaiuitetl ity th« pitrturo ever
Nttire. It i.s an awful .nglit to witneMH a lu>n g\ilp her
own n«'wly laid fn'Hh «>kk, yolk,
wliitf, hIh'U, and all ; to r(>aliz(> that
ynii havi> f«><l, Hhflti'rml, i'haN<><l
and (M^niisionally run in, a l)f*ing
|N>8.s('ss('d of no moral Hen»e, a l)e-
in^ likoly to net a Uul oxani|)l«>,
in(;ul(-att> vicwniH haliitM antuiig
Iht inn(H't>nt HiHtors, an«l low-
er the standard of an entin*
ixniltry yard. The Voung
Poultry Keepor's Friend
given us no advice on
tluH topic, and we do
not know whether
to treat Cannibal
An!i as the victim
of a disease, or as a
confirmed criminal ;
whether to udniinis-
ter remedies, or tut her otf in the flower of her youth.

We have hat1 a sjul scene to-night. A chick has been
ailing all day, and when we slnit up the brooil we found
him dead in a corner.
Pha-be put him on the ground while she busied her-

[56]

" Pmt Unit ciaf,

I nei'fr iva> a

fyvtritt ' '

TMK niAMY '>K A OOOHIt nlRI.

«plf alx)ut th»« coop. Thi* ntlu-r 1 1 :rkN t'luiu' out and
walk' il ulMittt th<^ (lead ono again aiitl a^ui (, t>vi>iii>{ him
curiouHly.

••Poor littlo <hap!" Hai<l Pha-ln- "'K's iii>vi>r 'iul a
motht'r! 'K wan an inciihytor chirkt'ii. ami whori'vpr I
tiH»k "ini 'o waM pickiil i Th»'n> wa-s soniethink wrniin
with 'ini; V lu'ver was a f'yvorit»>!"

I put thf fluffy iKMiy into n holo in the turf, and
»tr»'w»«d a handful of k^hhh ovi-r liiiti "Sad litth< epi-
taph ! " 1 tbougi ' " He never was a fyvunte ! "

[57]

,}.

2^3

VIII

■luly lath.

I MKR U> watch tho lit'l^iaii it.<'i>H )>iitinK tlicir trif<»-
liiim or |H'n-|HNlH or hvahh ; K''!^'*'f>tl tfi'tith' thiiiKM th(>y
atv, crowding abnit Mr. Ili'avi'ii, luul itUuulinK prt-ttily,
not gre«Mlily, on their hind U'j;», to roarh for th<^ .-lover,
their delicato noatrila tuid whiMkeru uU a-<^uiver with
excitement

As 1 lcM)k nut of nty window in the du.sk I can see
fine of t!»e mothers Kalloping acroHM the itu;lo«ure, the
Hoft white lining of her tail acting an a lM»a<!on-light to
the eight infant hares following her, a quaint jmH-eHsion
of eight white spots in a glancing line. In the darkest
night those l)aby creatures coidd follow their mother
through grass or hedge or thicket, and she would nee<I
no warning note to show them where to Hee in case of
danger. " All yon have to do is to follow the white
night-light that I keep in the lining of my tail," she
says, when she is giving her first ujatcnuil lectures;
and it seems a liencHcent provision of Nature. To Ih»
sure, Mr. Heaven took his giui and went out to shoot
wild rabbits tcwlay, and I noted that he marked them
by those same self-betraying tails, as they scuttled to-

[58]

L'At-^illlMsk -fi^c-ri'j

.^;i^

TMR

DIARV OK

nminK

(ilRI.

wnnl tlii'ir

holl'H

<M'

•'iipil tiiv;

iml till-

jilnlm

tiiiK ciivi'r

of th.'

h..t

W J N«

lIlH'S III

it ii)i|i«-ur wlii-tli«<i

• Nulurc

oil tllL'

8lttl

.il tlu-

iiu'r or

th.

• laliiiit

' /'

■>< ' .

-\ J

Mr. Utavtn . . . V." ml fo iknel uiiU rtUmi

Thorp is as much comtHly and as much tnigwly n
jMiultry lite as anywhere, ami •ilrt'aily I see rifts witl i.i
lutt'H. We have in a cajje a Kn-nch K»'"tleinur par-
tridge married to a fluiigariaii Uidy < f defective sight.
He paces iKiek and furth in the pen restlessly, any thing

r 'i'.) 1

TUB DIARY OP A GOOSK GIRL.

but content with the dumestic H reside. One can see
plain'y that he is devoted to the Bouh'vards, ant that
if left to his own inclinations he would never liave
chosen <iny spouse but a thorough I'arisienne.

The Hungarian lady is blind of one i-ye, from some
stray Hh(tt, I suppose. She is melancholy at all times
and (jccasionally g(H's so far as to beat her heatl against
the wire netting. If liberated, Mr. Heaven says that
her blindness would only expose her to death at the
hands of the first sportsman, and it always seems to
me as if she knows this, and is ever trying to decide
whether a loveless marriage is any Ixjtter than the tomb.

Then, again, the great, gray gander is, for some mys-
terious reason, out of favor with the entire family. He
is a noble and amiable bird, by far the best all-round
character in the tlock, for dignity of mien and large-
minded common sense. What is the treatment vouch-
safed to this blameless husbiuul and father"' One that
puts anylKxly cmt of sorts with virtue and its s(!ant
rewards. To l)egin with, the others will not allow
him to go into the pond. There is an organized calial
against it, iu>d he sits solitary on the bank, calm and
resigned, but, naturally, a trifle hurt. His favorite
retreat is a tiny sort of island on tlie edge of ti.e ptxd
under the alders, wiiere with his In'Ut head, and red-
rimmed philosophic eyes he regards his omi breast and
di-eams of happier days. When the others v/alk into

[00]

imtt^jj ' ^^ ' .j acs;

-1 IB DIARY OP A GOOSE OIRL

the country twenty -three of them keep together, and
Burd Alane (u8 I have named hi-n from the oUl balla«l)
walks by himself. The lack of harmony is so evident
here, and the slight so intentional and direct, that it
almost moves me to tears. The others walk soberly,

.--'ifc .

Out 0/ favor iiiith iht tniirt family

always in couples, but even Kurd Alane's rightful spouse
is on the side of the majority, and avoids her consort.

What is the natuv of his ofifeiise? There can be no
connubial jealousies, 1 judge, as geese are strictly 1 ^no-

[01]

^ ;j

511
i'

THE DIARY OF A GOOSE OIHI,

gamou^, and having chosen a partner of their joys and
sorrows they (cleave to eat-h other until death or some
other inexorable circumstajice does them p-irt. ,f they
are ever mistaken in their choice ai.d Uiink they might
have done better, the world is none the wiser. Hurd
Alane looks in good condition, but IMia-be thinks he is
not (luite himself, and that some day when he is in
greater strength he will turn on liis foes and rend them,
regaining thus his lost prestige, for formerly he wai
king of the flock.

PhcEoe has not a vestiije of sentiment. She just
asked me if I would luive a duckling or a gosling for
dinner; that there m-w two quite remly — the brown
and yellow duckling that is the last to leave tlu- water
at night, and the white gosling that never knows his
own 'ouse. Which -/ould I 'ave, and would I 'ave it
with sage and onion ?

Now, had I found a duckling on the t^ible at dinner
I siiould have eaten it without thinking at all, or with
the thought that it had come from Harbury Green. Hut
eat a duckling that I have stonect out of the pond, pur-
sued up the Uank, choaed l;ehind the wire netting,
'•aught, screaming, in a corner and earrie.l struggling
to his 1».,1? Feed u]K)n an idiot gosling that I have
foun.l m nine ditfeivnt .'oops on nine .successive nights
— in will, the newly hatched .hieks. tlu- hall-grown

[62]

:M!R

TIIK D'ARY OK A GOOSE OIRL

pullets, thfl sitting hen, the " iiivalee<l goose," the drake
with the gapes, the old ducks in the \)eu ? — Kat a gos-
ling that 1 have caught and |»ut in with his brothers
and sisters (whom he never recognizt-s) so frequently
and regularly that I am familial- with every joint in his
body ?

In the tirst jtlaee, with my own small bump of local-
ity and lack of geography, I would never willingly con-
sume a creature who niight, by sonu' strange prcKresa
of iissimilation, make me worse in this resjHict ; in the
second j)lace, I should have to Ikj ravenous indeed to
sit down deliWrately aiui make a meal of an intimate
friend, no matter if I had not a high opinion of his in-
telligence. I should as s(H)n think of eating the S(juare
liaby, stufftnl with sage and onion and gurnislunl with
green a|>ple-sauce, as the yellow duckling or the idiot
gosling.

Mrs. Heaven has just called me into her sitting-room
ostensibly to ask me to order breakfast, but really for
the pleasure of conversation. Why she should inquire
whether I w(mld nlish some gammon of bacon with
eggs, when she kiK/WS that there has not been, is not
now, and never will be, anything but gammon of Ikicou
with eggs, is nunc than I can explain.

"Would you like to :!ee my Howers, miss?" she
asks, folding her jilumj) luu\tl,s over her white ai)ron,

[03]

! "

l; =

, 1.

THE DIARY OP A GOOSE (JIRL

"They are looking lifaiitiful thi.s luonuiiK. I am so
fond of iK)tte(l plants, of plunts in pots. Look at these
geraniums I Now, I consuU-r that pink one a |)erffct
bloom ; yes, a perft^t hloom. Tliis is a Hn.« ml (,ne, is
it not, miss? Especially tine, don't you think? The
trouble with the red variety is that they 're apt to get
' bobby ' and have to Ije washed regularly ; (,uite l)obby
they do get indeed, I assure you. That whit., one has
just gone out of blossom, and it was really wonderful.
You could -ardly have told it from a paiHT flower, miss,
not from a white pai)er flower. My plants are my chil-
ilren nowa^Iays, since AlUMt Edward is my only care.
I have been the mother of eleven children, miss, all of
them living, so far as I know ; I know nothing to the
contrary. I 'ope you are not wearying of this solitary
I»lace, miss ? It will grow upon you, I am sure, as it
did upon Mrs. Pollock, with all her peculiar fancies,
and as it 'as grown upon us. — . We formerly ha<l a
butcher'a shoj) in Burtington, and it was naturally a
great responsibility. Mr. Heaven's nerves are not
strong, and at last he wanted a life of more quietude,
more cpiietude was what he craved. The life of a retail
butcher is a most exciting and wearying one. Nobody
satisHed with their meat; as if it mattered in a world
of change! Everylnxly complaining of too much bone
or too little fat ; nobotly wishing tough chops or cutlets,
but always seeking after fine joints, when it 's against

THE DIARY OF A GOOSE (URL

reason and nature that all joints Hhoulil Ik? juicy and all
cutlets tender; always couiplaiuiug if livers ar« not

n, lift

t) J mint tXiiling attJ :vearyirig en

sent with every fowl, always asking you to remember
tile trimmin's, always wanting their lx?el' well 'uug, and
then it you 'ang it a minute too long it 's left on your
'ands ! 1 often used to say to Mr. Heaven, yes, many "a

[06]

ici

THK DIARY OP A OOOSK fURI,

the tiiu« I Ve said it, that if ,H.o,,le wo.U.l think inor«
of th« Kteut Vreufter lui.l !».«« about thnr own iittle
stomachs, it would U- u .h-al U.tWr for thoni, yes, a deal
bt'tter, and make it muoh more comfortable for tlie
butchers ! "

Hunl Alane has ha<I a j?o«hI quarter of an hotir tcnhiy.

His spouse t<M.k a brief promenade with him. To l»

sure, it was during an absenc^e of the flock on the other

Hi I tpotui loot a brief frtmtnaJt with kim

side of the hedge, so tliat tlie moral effect .>f her spasi,,
of wifely loyalty was (juite lost upon them. \ sfrcnijly
suspect that she would n(,t have K'rante.i anythu.K I'nt
a secret interview. What a petty, weak, iKU.,l.le char-

TiiK niARV OK A (i005K (illU.

a<^tpr ! I really <l«ni't lik«' to think so liailly of any
Mlow orpature an I um foninl to think of that politic,
time-8ervinK, |t»iNillaniMuiu« gmmo. I Ijt'lievo ahe laid
the fgg tluit producetl the itliot gosling !

♦I

ffi?!

Ukhk follows tho rrui- Nt«>ry of Sir Muscovy Drako,
the Laily Hlaiicb", ami Miss Mulhinlina Cni.pletfX'M.

I'hoibo'H fl(K'k consiste.! at Hrst mostly <»f Jirowti
Mallards, hut a frit-nd ^inv^^ Iut a sitting of eggs war.
ranted to pro«luc«' a most U-autiful vari.'ty of whit.'
diu'ks. Thj'y w«>r.i hatrh.'<l in due tini.', hut prov.-d
hard to raise, till at letiKth there was only on.- survivor,
of sufh un.-onunon grac- ;ind Ix-auty that we «;alle.l her
the La«ly Blanche. Presently a neighlK)r sold I'ho'k.
his favorite Museovy drak-, and fh.'s,. two .splendid
creaturps hy «< natural scleetion " disdained to notire tlw.
rest of tho Hfnk, hut forniiuK' a r-lose friendship, wan-
dered in the plea.sant paths ..f du<kdoni together, swim-
ming and eating rpiif.. apart fn.m the others.

In the hrown H.M-k there was one unfortunato, mis-
shapen from the egg, .p.ite Janie, an<l with n., smooth-
ness of plumage; Init on that very aeeount, apparently,
or l)eoause she was too weak to resist them, the ..thers
treated her (truelly, hituig her and pushing her away
from the f(KKl.

One day it ha{)penHl that the two ducks— Sir Mu.s-

[G8J

LAM

THE DIARY OK A (icK)8K OIHI.

povy and Lady Hlaiichc — had come up from the water
Iwfore th«< ofhiTH, and having tak<>ii tlxir ri'jia«t wpr«
tiitting togcthtT iindi-r th«' Hha«l<< of a H<>worin>, currantr
bu«h, when they <'hani'«'d to nee |»o<>» Mi^n ('rippletoi'H
very iKidly usmI and cnjwtN-d awav front the di.sli. Sir
M»i.s«'»)vy rose to hi^ f»'i't ; a It .v rapid wordH Hfenied to
paMH U'tween him and his matt-, and then h«' fi-ll npon
the otht-r drake and the hcartlt-HN minions who had prr-
iMH'nt«Hl the helplesN one, drcv'( them far away out of
si^ht, and, returnin^f, went to tin- corntT where the vie-
tim waH eowerinj^, her fiU'e to the wall. He seemed to
wliisper to her, or in some way to convey to her a sense
of protecticm ; for aft«r a few monjents she tremblingly
went with him to the dish, and hurriedly ate her dinner
while he stoo<l by, repidsing the advances of the few
brown dncks vho remained near and si'emed inclined
to attack her.

When she ha<l eaten enough Lady lilancht' joined
them and they went down the hill together to their
favorite swimming-place. After that. Miss t'ripjjletoes
always followed a little Indiind licr jirotectors, and thus
8hielde<l and fed she grew strong«'r and well-feathered,
though .she was always smaller than she should have
been and had a lowly manner, keeping a few steps in
the rear of her superiors and sitting at some distance
from their noon resting-place.

Pha'l)e noticed after a while that Lady Hlanchc was

[69]

:.\.jFi^* t

TH* DIARY «)K A onOKK CilKI.

seldom to l>e srm, ami Sir Musi-ovy uml Miss Crip-
plet«i4>M often ram« to their tin ils without hiT. Th«
would-lw mother ri'fuHetl to iiihiihit tlm hi intt rhii>U«
hful givpii hfr, and for i long tiiuf th»' phue ».h«« hiul
chomm for her «itf iig nmld not U< found. At h-ngth
the 8<inari> Hahy diflrovercd hor in a tnost id«al H|Mit.
A large Umlder had dr«»p|M'd y^'ars aj^) inU» thi- hrcntk
that HUh onr <huk-i>ond ; drop|M'd and Hplit m halvwH
with th« two nnnHJth walls h-aning away h<.ni vaih
otlu'r. A grassy Uiuk tctwerwl Iwhind, and on pitln-r
side of the opening, till hnshes nia«lo a niiniatnr*' fon«st
where th«! roinantio mother cojdd hnnnl Imr tn-asiui's
while her two gtiardiana enjoytHl the wator close by her
retreat.

All this happ(>nod l>ofon> my coming to Thornycroft
Farm, but it was I who named the h»'ro and iH'ioints of
the romance when I'holM- had t..ld me all the f)arti(Mi-
lars. Yesterday morning I was sitting by my oiteii
window. It was warm, sunny, ami .still, but in the
country sounds travel far, and I ecmid hear fowl con-
versation in various parts of the poidtry yard as well
aa in all the outlying bits of territory occupied by our
feathered friends. Hens have only three words and
a scream in their language, Init ducks, having more
thoughts to express, converse quite tluently, so fluently,
in fact, that it reminds me of diiun-r at the Hydro-
pathic Hotel. I fancy I have learned to distiugnish

[70]

THK rilAHV OK A liminK lilNI.

Mv«n w'lmrati' ncniniU, fwh variwl Iry i|i>)(rt>cH of int«n-
mty, tuid with upward i»r iluwnward iuflctti jus likn lb«
ChirieHo tongm*.

In the «li!«tjiii(«, tUfn, I heanl the faint vniip of u <ltirk
oalling as if breathU^nt iiini exfite*!. While I woiuIitwI
what wuH ha|>|>cnitig, 1 huw MiMs <'rip|ileto<>s rttniKKiiiiK
up th« NtiH'p Uiiik alM)Vi* thf <htc-k-potii|. It wan \\v
quiikiKt way ft(»iii thf watt r in thf hcmsi', but jlittiiiilt
for tht- httb' hiiiii* wi>I)IniI f«'»'t. Wht»ii hIu- rt>aihetl fh**
Ipvi'1 iituHH Hwanl «he sank ihjwn n monu-iif, exhauHtfil .
Imt when h\u' coiiM Hpeak again «h« iTUMl "nf, a sharp
Hta<rcato call, and ran forward.

Instantly Nh<< wan aiiHweriHl from a flistant knoll,
where for hoiiic reason Sir MiiMcovy loveil to retire for
meditation The cries ^rcw lower and softer as the
birds appniachcd eju-h other, ami they met at thi< corner
j\Kst under my wiifdow. Instantly they p\it their two
bills together ami the loud cries changed to contiding
murmurs. Kvidently some hurried <pie.stions and an-
swers passed Ixtween them, and then Sir Muscovy
waddled rapidly by the ipiickest path, Miss ('ripplet«)e8
following him at a slower pa^-e, and Itoth passed out of
sight, using their wings to help their feet down the
steep declivity. The next morning, when I wakened
early, my first thought was to look out, and there on
the sunny greensward where they were accustometl to
be fed. Sir Muscovy, Lady lUanche, and their humble

[71]

MICIOCOTY RISOIUTION TiST CHART

(ANSI ond ISO TEST CHART No 2l

Urn 12.2

140

2.0
1.8

^ /APPLIED IM^GE Inc

^^ '6!) J East Matn strfet

r^a Rochester. New York 14609 USA

^S (716) 482 - 0300 - Phone

^S (^'6) 288 - 5989 - Fa«

^,.^-4^*f

THE DIAKY OK A GOOSE GIHL

maid, Mallardii a Crippletoes, were scattering their own
breakfast Ijefo.e the bills of twelve beautiful golden
balls of ducklings. The little creatures could never
have climbed the lank, but must have started from
their nest at dawn, coming round by the brook to the
level at the foot of the garden, and so by slow degrees
up to the house.

Judging from what I heard and knew of their habits
I am sure the excitement of the previous morning was
occasioned by the hatching of the eggs, and that Lady
Blanche had hastily sent her friend to call Sir Muscovy,
the family remaining together until they could bring
the babies with them and display their beauty to Phoebe
and me.

[72]

annual

HBl

' i3*^«-*i^iua*-' «' « ... ffij.w#ai

I- ,

July 14th.

\Vk are not wholly without the pleasures of the towu
in Barbury (Jreen. Once or twice in a summer, late on
a Saturday afternoon, a procession of red and yellow
vans drives into a Held near the centre of the village.
By the time the vans are impacked all the children in
the community are surrounding the gate of entrance.
There fs rifle-shooting, there is fortune-telling, there are
games of pitch and toss, and swings, and French baga-
telle; and, to crown all, a wonderful orchestrion that
goes by steam. The water is boiled for the public's
tea, and at the same time thrilling strains of melody
are flung into the air. There is at present only one
tune in the orchestrion's repertory, but it is a very good
tune ; though after hearing it three hundred and seven
times in a siii,,'le afternoon it pursues one, sleeping and
waking, for the next week. Phoebe and I took the
Square Baby and went in to this diversified entertain-
ment. There was a small crowd of children at the
entrance, but as none of them seemed to be provided
with pennies, and I felt in a fairy godmother mood, I
offered them the freedom of the place at my expense.
I never purchased more radiant good-will for less

[73]

»'',itl31iB ■"¥*■;

THE DFARY OK A (iOOSE CilHI,

money, but the combined effect of the well-lx)ile(l tea
and the Iwiling onthestrion prfxluced many village
nightmares, so the mothers told me at chapel next
morning.

I have many friends in Barbury Green, and often
have a pleasant chat with tlie draper, and the watch-
maker, and the chemist.

The last house on the principal street is rather an
ugly ont', with especially nice window curtains. As I

The freedom of the place at my expense

[74]

■'■"'k

U^ j^ ''-^IMV'

THE DIARY OF A GOOSE OIRI,

was taking my daily walk to the post-otticc (an entirely
unfruitful expedition thus far, as nobody has taken the
j)ains to write to me) I saw a nursemaid coming' out of
the gate, whe.'linp a baby in a perambulator. She was
going placidly away from the Green when, far in the
distance, she espied a man walking rapidly toward us,
a heavy Gladstone bag in one hand. She gazed fixedly
for a moment, her eyes brigl'teuing and her eheek.s
flushing with pleasure, — whoever it was, it, was an
unexpected arrival ; — then she retraced her stejts and,
rmining up the garden-path, opened the front door and
held an excited colloquy with someboc'v; a slender
somebody in a nice print gown and neatly dressed hair,
who came to the gate and peeped beyond the hedge
several times, diawing back l)etween peeps with smiles
and heightened color. She did not run down the road,
even when she had satisfied herself of the identity of
the traveler ; perhaps that would not have been good
form in an Engli.sh village, for there were liouses on the
opposite side of the way. She waited until he opened
the gate, the nursemaid took the bag and looked dis-
creetly into the hedge, then the mistress slipjjed her
hand through the traveler's arm and walked up the
path as if she had nothing else in the world to wish for.
The nurse had a part in the joy, for she lifted the hahy
out of the perambulator and showed proudly how much
he had grown.

[75]

' tl

ifl

:y5«EciE»sm¥fKr;rr€" "^sir^-

jife.'i*

TIIR DIARY OF A OOOSK (JIRI.

Tt was a dear little scene, and I, a paaser-by, had
shared in it and felt better tor it. I think their
content was no less l)ecau8e part of it had enriched my
life, for happiness, like mercy, is twice blessed; it
blesses those who are most intimately associated in it,
and it blesses all those who see it, hear it, feel it, touch
it, or breathe the same atmosphere. A laughing, crow-
ing Daby in a house, one cheerful woman singing about
her work, a lx)y whistling at the plough, a romance just
suspected, with its miracle of two hearts melting into
one — the wind 's always in ' ' «! west when you have
any of these wonder-workers in your neighborhood.

I have talks too, sometimes, with the old parson, who
lives in a quaint house with " Parva Doinus Magna
Quies " cut into the stone over the doorway. He is not
a preaching parson, but a retired one, almost the nicest
kind, I often think.

He has been married thirty years, he tells me ; thirty
years, spent in the one little house with the bricks
painted red and gray alternatuy, and the scarlet holly-
hocks growing under the windows. I am sure they have
been sweet, true, kind years, and that his heart must be
a quiet, peaceful place just like his house and garden.

" I was only eleven years old when I fell in love with
my wife," he told me as we sat on the seat under the
lime-tree; he puffing cosily at his pipe, I plaiting
grasses for a hatband.

[76]

*',-'.

^.^taiiv

L''J:4dM9&c::^>1^<»«cri&is^iNw-vaB'«dn"Taen a ■""""■■"^"■^

THE DIARY OF A GOOSB GIRL

" It was jtist before Sunday-school. Her mother had
dressed her all in white muslin like a fairy, V)ut she had
stepped on the edge of a puddle, and some of the muddy

Puffing cotily at hit pif

water had bespattered her frock. A circle of children
had surrounded her, and some of the motherly little
girls were on their knees rubbing at the spots anxiously,
while one of them w iped away the tears that were run-
ning down her pretty cheeks. I looked ! It was fatal !

[77]

iwraa^ cit k^?

THE DIARV OK A OOOSK OIRI.

1 did not look again, but I waa smitten to the very
heart ! I did not H\)eixk to her for six years, l.ut when
I did, it was all right with Jwth of us, thank God ! and
I 've been in love with her ever since, when she behaves
herself I"

T' at is the way they speak of love in Harbury (Jteen,
and oh I how much sweeter and more wholesome it is
than the language of the town ! Who would not lie a
Goose Girl, " to win the secret of the weed's plain
heart ? " It seems to me that in society we are always
gazing at magio-lantern shows, but here we rest our
tired eyes with looking at the stars.

}■ i

I .<

[78]

i I]

fl
Ml

A Hin Conftrtnct

July 16th.

PiKEBE and I have Iwen to a Hen Conference at Buf-
fington. It was for the purpose of raising the standard
of the British lieu, and our local Countess, who is much
interested in poultry, was in the chair.

It was a very learned lx)dy, but Phoelie had coached
me so well that at the noon recess I could talk con-
fidently with ;the meml)ers, discussing the various
advantages of True and Crossed Minorcas, Feverels,
Andalusians, Cochin Chinas, Shanghais, and the White

[79]

'II

\ym

THB DIARY OP A OOOHK nlRI.

^^1 i

Leghorn. (Pha'be, when »h»> jtronounccs thi» word,
leavus out the "h" and Unirs down heavily on the
laat HyUahh', so that it rhymes with Ix'gone!)

As I WHS Hitting uiuU'r the trw's waiting for I'httjlw
to finish sonu* shopping in th« village, a traveling poul-
try-4lealer (;ame along and offered to si-ll niu a silver
Wyandotte pullet and t-ockerel. This was a new breed
to nie and I asked the price, which proved to bo n.ore
than I should pay for a hat in Bond Street. I hesi-
tated, thinking meantime what a delightful parting gift
they would Iw for I'hoelw ; I mean if we ever shouUl
part, which seems more and more unlikely, as I shall
never leave Thornycroft until somelxMly comes properly
to fetch me ; indeed, unless the " fetching " is done
somewhat speedily I may decline to go under any cir-
cumstances. My indecision as to the purchase was
finally iKUiished when the poultry man asserted that
the fowls hatl clear open centres all over, black lacing
entirely round the white centres, were free from white
edging, and each had a cherry-red eye. This catalogue
of charms inflamed my imagination, though it gave me
no mental picture of a silver Wyandotte fowl, and I
paid the money while the dealer crammed the chicks,
squawking, into my five o'clock tea-basket.

The afternoon session of the conference was most
exciting, for we reached the subject of imi^orted eggs,
an industry that is assuming terrifying proportions.

[80]

THK niAKY OV \ <.<»01lt «ilHI.

Thfl Ix)ndon Jiotpl »•«« coiuen from Dt-nmark, it m«iu«,
— I Hho\iM think l>>' sailing v»«MJti<l, nut Hteami-r. but I
may Iw wruiiK- AtttT w.- \mi m'i^U'A that thi- Mritinh
Ht-n HhoiiUl Iw protcrt. . hiuI »Mi<H.\ir!iK«Hl, and UKre^l
Holenuily to abstain troni Danish i-ggn in any fcrni, and

Arguing fueitioni of diet

made a resolution stating that our loyalty t Queen

Alt'xandra would reman, undiminrshe*!, \5,e ,i . d the

subject of hen diet. There was a great .n*' "f
opinion here and the discussion was heated

orary treasurer standing tor pvdped mangolil * in
grit, the chair insisting on barley meal and la. ians.

[81]

til

i i

f* I

TMB niARV or A (><M)!IR (ilRI.

while onn «'l(H|m»nt younu wo»»»ft» •Wlannl, to IoikI vmn
of "'Knr, 'eiir !" that ru-j- pndilmK ami Umfl ilii|m pro-
<lufo more I'Kgn to the »<|uaro hen than an* iithi>r wort

«tf fiM)U. Iiii|taM!tiiitiiMl
orator.i aro.si* here ami
thiT*' in th«' utt(lifn<*i>
(li-iiianilinK ri'coj^nition
for \n'vf ,s»'ra|»H, char-
roal, rr)un)l cm rn or
huc'kwhi'at. Foo«Ih w«'r»(
ri'Kanh'd from vari(m8
Htandpoint.H : as K»'»»'ral
invigoratorH, j^rctwih
(iHsiati'rH, and p^k pro
<l'u'«'rs. A vory hand-
.■iom»' yonng farnuT car-
ri««l off Hnal hcmors and
j)rov»'d to tin- satinfac-
tion of all the f(>mininc
poultry raisers that
ifreen young hog l)ones
fresh cut in the Iknner
Hone Hreaker (of which

Tit a/ttrHCtti Mii/oR ^iiai moil txcilinr \ . i

* he was the ag"nt) jws-
sessed a nutritive value not to 1m? expressed in human
language.

Phoebe was distinctly nervous when I rose to say a

[82]

\- y 7:^5^)PS?

TIIK |)l NWV «»»' A (WM)«»K liim,

few wonlft c.ii ji-iiiltry hrpt'iling. nitnoiiiii'itig an my topin
" Mothi'm, HtP|)fiii)tht<rM, Kcmfpr- Mot Kith, ami IihuIk*-
t<)r«." I'rotirNMl liy th« ••onmiimHiu'S!* that no on« in
th« itKW'iiildiiKi' louM |«)H!«iltly know tm, I unuU' n (li»-
tiiii t HiincHH ill my maiUen mwerlj ; iiulfi-d, I Momowhat
oviTHhot the mark, fm fho CoiuiU'hs in tlio «hair twnt
nw a not<' askiiiK me to iline witli lier that evniiuK. I
BuppreHMi'd the iioto ami t«x)k I'hci'U- iiway l*f«»re th»
pnx-ooilinKS wero HnisliCil, vaniMhin^ frum tho scene of
my triumphs liko a vpilail proph«t.

.hiMt OH w« wt'f*' pa«Hin« out the tl<M)r w«' pnnsinl to
h«'ar thf r port. «if a Kpj'rial con.mittiM- whoMH chairman
read thi' following? rcsolutiotiM : —

irAz-mw, — It has pleased th«» AlmiKhty to removo
from our midNt our grcatcHt Hoho Cftmh Huff Orpington
fancier and cMteemed frieiul, AlU'rt K<lward Sheridan ;
therefore Ih' it

H*mlved, — That the next p<lition of o\ir catalnjfiio
(•(mtain an illustrated memt)rial paK'e in his honor and

Hesnlved, — T\\a.t the Host! Comh HufT Oritin^fton Club
extend to the lx;reaved family their heartfelt sympathy.
The handsome younj? farmer followe<l us out to our
tra[i, invited us to attend the next m»'etin>? of the R. (.'.
B. O. Club, of which he was the secretary, atul aske<l if
I were intending to " show." I intrcKluced PluelH' a.s
the senior partner, and she eoncealeil \\w fact that we
possessed but one Kutr Orpington and ho was a sad

[83]

vsm

ukJBS^B^^s

THE DIARY OK A GOOSE Gini.

1..- !h

" invaleed " not suitable for • \hibition. The farmer's
expression as ho looked at me was almost lover-like,

' .y ■ rv./ -

^Y>

Nol atkcd to the Conferenct

and when he pressed a bit of paper into my hand I was
sure it must be an offer of marriage. It was in fact
only a circular describing the Kanner Bone Breaker.
It closed with an appeal to Buff Orpington breeders to
raise and ever raise the standard, bidding them remem-
ber, in the midst of a low-minded and sordid civiliza-

[84]

THE DIARY OK A GOOSE GIKL

tion, that the rose comb should l)e small and neat, firmly
set on, with good working, a nice spike at the Imck lying
well down to head, and never, under any circumstances,
never sticking up. This adjuration somewhat alarmed
us as Phoebe and I had been giving our Buff Orpington

> ^ J;

■m^.

Coming home

[85]

1 il

'i]

hi
II

I
I I

i' ;

i '.• I

.ri !

THE DIARY OF \ OOOSK GIRL

cockerel the most drastic remedies for his languid and
prostrate comb.

Coming homo we alighted from tho trap to gather
hogweed for the rabbits. I sat by the wayside lazily
and let Phoebe gather the appetizing weed, which grows
along the thorniest hedges in close proximity to nettles
and thistles.

Workmen were tnidging along with their luncheon
baskets of woven bulrushes slung over their shoulders.
Fields of ripening grain lay on either hand, the sun
shining on their every shade of green and yellow, bronze
and orange, while the breeze stirred the bearded barley
into a rippling golden sea

Phoebe asked me if the people I had left behind at
the Hydropathic were my relatives.

" Some of tnera are of remote consanguinity," I re-
sponded evasively, and the next question was hushed
upon her awe-stricken tongue, as I intended.

" They are obeying my wish to be let alone, there 's
no doubt of that," I was thinking. " For my part I
like a little more spirit, and a little less ' letter ' ! "

As the word "letter" flitted through my thoughts,
I pulled one fi ni my pocket and glanced through it
carelessly. It arrived, somewhat tardily, only last
night, or I should not have had it with me. I wore the
same dress to the post-office yesterday that I wore to the
Hen Conference to-day, and so it chanced to be still in

[86]

THE DIARY Ol- A C.OOSE GIIIL

fVorimtn were trudging home

the pocket. If it had been anything I valued, of course
I should have lost or destroyed it by mistake; it is
only silly, worthless little things like this that keep
turning up and turning up after one has forgotten their
existence.

You are a mystery! [it ran.] I can apprehend, but not
comprehend you. I know you in part. I understand various
bits of your nature; but my knowledge is always fragmentary
and disconnected, and when I attempt to make a whole of the
mosaics I merely get a kaleidoscopic effect. Do you know

[87]

^ U

i !|

*1
■ i

ti.Mi

,•' I

THK niAHY OF A tiOOSE rtlRI.

those geographical diinccted puzzloH that they give to chil-
dren V You remind mo of one of them.

I have spent many charming (and dangerous) hours trying
to "put you together;" hut I find, when I examine my pic-
t-e cloHcly, that after all I 've made a purple mountain grow
oui, of a green tree ; that my river is running up a steep hill-
side ; and that the pretty milkmaid, who should be wander-
ing in the forest, is standing on her head with her pail in the
air I

Do you understand yourself clearly ? Or is it just possible
that when you dive to the depths of your own consciousness,
you sometimes find the pretty milkmaid standing on her
head? I wonder! . . .

Ah, well, it is no wonder that he wonders ! So do I,
for that matter 1

l-i

[88]

Tr^^

Along lit highway

XII

July nth.

Thornycroft Farm seems to be the musical centre
of the universe.

When I wake very early in the morning I lie in a
drowsy sort of dream, trying to disentangle, one from
the other, the various bird notes, trills, coos, croons,
chirps, chirrups, and warbles. Suddenly there falls on
the air a delicious, liquid, finished song ; so pure, so
mellow, so joyous, that I go to the window and look out
at the morning world, half awakened, like myself.

There is I know not what charm in a window that
does not push up, but opens its lattices out into the
greenness. And mine is like a little jeweled door, for

[89]

III

5k!

■J"

I;.

\i.

I
J

t I

TIIK niARY OK A (iOOSR Cini,

the 8un is shining;; from lipliiiid th(» chimneys and light-
ing the tiny diamond puiioM with aml)cr tianhcH.

A faint deli(;atc hazt' lies over th*' meadow, and rising
out of it, and soaring toward this hhu", i« the lark, fling-
ing out that mat(;hli>s.s matin song, so rich, so thrilling,
so lavish! As the blithe mcUuly fades away, I hear the
plaintive Kallati-fragments of the rolnn on a curtsying
branch near my window ; and there is always the liciuid
pipe of the thrush, who must quatf a fairy goblet of
dew between his songs, I should think, so fresh and
eternally young is his note.

There is another Iwautiful song that I follow when-
ever I hear it, straining my eyes to the treetops, yet
never finding a bird that 1 can identify as the singer.
Can it be the

OuRcl-cock so hiark of hue,
With oranRC-tawny bill ?

He is called the poet-laureate of the ])rimrose time, but
I don't know whether he sings in midsummer and I
have not seen him hereabouts. I must write and ask
my dear Man of the North. The Man of the North, I
sometimes think, had a Fairy (irandmother who was a
robin ; and perhaps she made a nest of fresh moss and
put him in the green wood when he was a wee bairnie,
so that he waxed wise in bird-lore without knowing it.
At all events, describe to him the cock of a head, the
glance of an eye, the tip-up of a tail, or the sheen of a

[90]

SSST"

3^;^v::'<%K^L!V:'?fiiK?^^

TIIK DIARV OF A COOKR C.lHl.

feather, and he will name you tho bird. Near-sighted
he is, too, the Man of the North, but that ia ouly for
people.

The Square Haby and I have a new game.

[ Itought a doU'a table and tihina tea-set in Huttington.
We put it under an ai»i)le-tree in the side garden, where
the scarlet lightning grows so tall and the Madonna
lilies stand so white again.st the Haniing lackground.
We built a little fence around it, and every afternoon
at tea-time we sprinkle seeds and (irunibs in the dishes,
water in the tiny cups, drop a cherry in each of the
fruit-i)late8, and have a the ckantnnt for the birdies.
We sometimes invite an "invaleed" duckling, or one
of tho l)aby rabbits, or the peacock, in which case the
cards read : —

Thomycrafl Farm,

The pleasure of your company is requested

at a

The Chanlant

Under the Apple Tree.

Music at tive.

I .■

i '

'J '

It is a charming game, as I say, but I 'd far rather
play it with the Man of the North; he is so much
younger than the Square Baby, and so much more
responsive, too.

[91]

'i!
I''

I I
I

TICK niARV OF A OOOSR CIRK

Thomycroft Farm in a nweet place, too, of odors as
well an sounda. Tho scent of the hay in forever in the
nostrils, the hedges are thick with wild honeyHuckle,
80 deliciously fragrant, the last of the .luno roses are

Tit tciHt of the ^jy

lingering to do their share, and blackl)erry blossoms
and ripening fruit as well.

I have never known a place in which it is so easy to
be good. I have not said a word, nor scarcely harlx)red
a thought, that was not lovely and virtuous since I

[92]

THK DIARY oK A CJOOSK «.llll.

/ >

(

/^'

)

'"^"',1''

TAc /djr of 'June

entered these gates, and yet there aro those who think
nie fantastic, ditHtadt, hard to please, unreasonable !
I believe the saints must have lived in the country

[93]

M^i^flitaHi

TIIK PIARV OF A riOOSK OIRl.

mostly (I am ci-rtain tlu'y iievpr trU'il ICydropathii"
hutcU), uiul why uiiylioily with ii hluck hi<art and natu-
ral lovH of wickt'ilnt'HH shouM not si'uply buy a jiouUry
farm and Ihm-ouu' an angvl, I raiinot undiTNtand.

Living witli animals is really a very improving and

y1 f>Ijc( in which it ;i so easy to he ^ouJ

wholesome kind of life, to the person who will allow him-
self to 1)6 intiuenced by their sensible and high-minded

Tint DIAHV «»»' A IKM)** «ilHI.

iileals. WliMi you loine to think aU)ii' it, man is really
the only iinimul that evi-r inaki'H a Uh,1 of himnfllt ; the
othttfH ail! hi^hlv .ivili/Kil, uuti n«v«'r muk« miMtakes.
I am K""'K ♦" niiiitiun this wh» ii I writw to sonifliotly,
Hon»etiin« ; I mean if I ever .lo. To l« ■urf, our human
lif«« iH much iiiorp (omnlicati'il than tlmirn, an«l I licli«'ve
wlien t!io other aniinaU notico our errors of jud«mt'iit
they make allowinces. The »«•! i-H as busy as a l»ee,
an.l the lieaver works like a leaver, but there their
reH|K*nsil»ility eu.ls. Th« U'O (hws n't have to ^o aUiut
seeing that other U-es are not crowiled into uiiHanitary
teiu'ment.s or victimi/ed by the sweating system. Whtn
the Iteaver's day of toil is ov«>r he does n't have to dis-
ouss the sphere, the rights, or the voting privileges of
I* sses ; all he has to do is to work like a leaver,

and «at is ooiuparatively simple.

[95]

^trnmam

1 ■'; £
^ 8

I
li

A'v/ ftriumUtlf 4IU*(lid hj lit ftitltry

XIII

1 IIAVK Iwcn studying tho Voung PoJiltry Kpo|>rr's
Friend of late. If tlicte is anything I dislike and
depluro it is th»' |K)ss(>siiion of knowledge which I can-
not put to practical use Having discovered an inter-
esting disease called Scaly Leg in the .July nunilwr, I
took the magazine out into the poultry yard and identi-
fied the malady on three hens and a cock. I'Iki'Ihj
joined lae in tho diagnosis and we treated tJic victims
with a carlK)lic lotion and scruhlK'd them with vaseline.

As I'hadR' and I grow wise in medical lore the case

[90]

Tint in A

l(Y dl' A CiOO^lK Ollll.

of ranmluil Ami swumiM-t ii iLfTrriiil an^HHi. An thi»
lubul.ms iimu iiuurTM iiM.r.' tui.l iii'»««' rtuK'<tt4 ..f Umt ami
wiim wli.ii hu .laily r.HMl in hum, «ult liih, iuul .uWUiki-,

Ht) dovH tins hi'ii iivniK.' her wmtiKH

if iU«'t aiitl wcm'h of

..nvlromn.iit. CatmiUil Ami. Ii.th.-H, Ium, mo far m viv

know, U'i'ii ruiHiil in ii

Chriittuiii iiuimHr ami «•»]<>>•■'

all tlu' aavaiituKi's .if iiuxUni tiu-tluKlH ; b«»l lur mat.'i-

nal pan-iit may

hav.' UvimI In Moim« hi-ttthi'ii |Kmllr>'

yanl which was as]

ihaltfd or hii(k«'(l or flaRKfil, so that

she was (li'lKincl ticim snatchiiiK m

MotliiT Karth ami

waH

forced to vai Iut own s

ht'lU in si'U-<h'tVnsi',

The Si[iiart' Hahy is i

t iia-ticularly attracted by the
[97]

Ts;t^jr

,H :

' ii

jni

»t;

THK DIARY OF A GOOSE GIRL

poultry as a whoU-, save when it is boiled with banon or
roasted with bread-sauee ; but he is iimeh interested in
the " invaleeds." Whenever I'lui-bt; and I start for
the hospital with the tobaceo-pills, the tin of paraffiue,

Ulaggered and reeled

and the bottle of oil, he is very much in evidence. Per-
haps he has a natural leaning toward the medical pro-
fession ; at any rate, when jjuin and anguish wring the
brow, he is in close attendance -ipon the ministering
angels.

Now it is necessary for the physician to have prac-
tice as well as theory, so the Square Baby, being left to
himself this afternoon, pro(;eeded to perfect himself

[98]

THE DIAllY OK A tiOOSE OIUL

* %

Caught her son red-handtl

in some of the healing arts used by country practi-
tioners.

When discovered, he was seated in front of the wire-
covered "nin" attached to a coop occupied by the
youngest goslings. A couple of )ottles and a box stood
by his side, and I should think he had administered a
cup of sweet oil, a pint of p.iraftine, and a quarter of
a pound of tobacco during his clinic. He had used the
remedies impartially, sonietimes giving the paraffine in-
ternally a!id rubbing the patient's head with tobacco or
oil, sometimes tiie reverse.

[99]

THE niARY OF A GOOSE GIRL

Several gosliuRs leaned languidly igainst the notting
or supported themselves hy the «'dge of tlu; water-dish,
while others staggered and reeled alwut with eyes half
closed.

It was Mrs. Heaven who eaught her son red-handed,
so to speak. She was dressed in her l)est and just
driving off to Woodmucket to spend a day or two with
her married daughter, and soothe her nerves with the

-^'^

He was treated lummarily and smart/y

uproar incident to a town of six hundred inhabitants.
She delayed her journey a half hour — long enough, in
fact, to cha->ge her black silk waist for a loose sacque

[100]

THE DIAFtY OK A GOOSE CMRL

which would give her arms full and comfortable i)lay.
The joy and astonishment that greeted the Scinare Baby
on his atlvent, tive years ago, was forgotten for the first
time in his brief life, and he was treated precisely as
any ordinary wrong-iloer would have been treated under
the same circumstances, summarily and smartly; the
" wepping," as I'hadxj would say, l)eing Mrs. Heaven's
hand.

All but one of the goslinps lived, like thousands of
others who recover in spite of the doctors, but the Square
Baby's interest in the healing art is now perceptibly
lessened.

[101]

•^^^mjm^.

XIV

July ISth.

Thk (lay was Friday ; l'ha.'lH>'8 day to go to liutHii^-
ton with j'ggs and chicki'ivs and rabliits; h(!r day to ho-
licit orders for ducklings and goslings. The village cart
was ready in tlie stable; Mr. anil Mrs. Heaven were in
\Voo<lnuicket ; I was eating my breakfast (whicih I re-
member w" an egg and a rasher) when Pluelx) came
in, ;» figure r-f woe.

The Square Kaby was ill, very ill, and would not per-
mit her to leave him and go to market. Would I look
at him ? For he must have dowsed 'imself as well as
the goslings yesterday ; anyways he was strong of
paraffine and tobacco, though he 'ad 'ad a good barth.

I prescribed for Albert Edward, who was as uncom-
fortable and feverish as any little sinner in the county
of Sussex, and I then promptly proposed going to Buf-
fington in IMKcbe's place.

She did not think it at all proper, and said that, not-
withstanding my (cotton gown and sailor hat, I looked
quite, quite the lydy, and it would never do.

" I cannot get any new orders," said I, " but I can
certainly leave the rabbits and eggs at the customary

[102]

I 'it

THE niAIlY OF A fJOOSE oini.

lil;u!cs. I know Argent's Diniiij? Piirlours, ami Souk-
Imrst's Ti'a Uooins, and tlu; Six Hells Inn as well as
you <lii."

So, (lonnin<^ a pair of TIki'Ih-'h lar>,'»' white cotton
ploves with openwork wrists (than which I always
fancy there is no one article that so disguise;} the per-

1 he Six Belli four.d the last poultry someiuhat tough

•i

THE DIARY OR A COOSE OIKI.

feet lydy), I set out upon my travels, upborne by a
lively sense of amusement that was at least equal to
my feeling that ) was doing Phttbe Heaven a good
turn.

Prices in dressed poultry were fluctuating, but I had
a copy of The Trade Keview, issued that very day,
and was able to get some idea of values and the state
of the market, as I jogged along. The general move-
ment, I learned, was moderate and of a " selective "
character. Choice largo capons and ducks were in
steady demand, but I blushed for my profession when I
read that roasting chickens were running coarse, staggy,
and of irregular value. Old hens were held firmly at
sixpence, and it is my experience that they always have
to be, at whatever price. G eese were plenty, dull, and
weak. Old cocks, — why don't they say roosters ? —
declined to threepence ha'penny on Thursday in sym-
pathy with fowls, — and who shall say that chivalry is
dead ? Turkeys were a trifle steadier and th^re was
a speculative movement in limed eggs. All this A/as
illuminating and I only wished I were quite certain
whether the sympathetic old roosters were threepence
ha'penny apiece, or a pound.

Everything happened as it should, on this first busi-
ness journey of my life, which is equivalent to saying
that nothing happened at all. Songhurst's Tea Rooms
took five dozen eggs and told lue to bring six dozen

[104]

TIIK DIAHY OF A f.OOSK OIRL

tho npxt week. Argent's Dining I'arlours purchased
three pairs of chickenH ami four rabbits. The Six
Hells found the last poultry somewhat tough and taste-
less ; whereupon I said that our orders were more
than we could possibly till, still I hoped we could go

Tit gadabout htn

on " selling them," as we never liked to part with old
customers, no matter how many new ones there were.
Privately, I understofnl the complaint only too well,
for I knew the fowls in question very intimately. Two
of thein were the runaway rooster and the gadatmut
hen that never wanted to go to Iwd with the others.
The third was Cannibal Ann. I should have expected
them to l)e tough, but I cannot telieve they were lack-
ing in f "vor.

[105]

TIIK DIARY OK A r.OOSB OIRI.

The only troublesome feature of tl»e trip wan that
Mrs. Sowerbutt's lotlgers had suddenly left for London
and she was unable to take the four rabbits as she had
hoped; but as an offset to that piece of ill-fortune the
Coke and Coal Yard and the Hicycle Repairing Rooms
came out into the street, and, stepping up to the trap,
requested regular weekly deliveries of eggs and chick-
ens, and hopt'd that I would be able to bring them my-
self. And so, in a happy frame of mind, I turned out
of the Bufiington main street, and was jogging along
homeward, when a very startling thing happened;
namely, a whole verse of The Bailiff's Daughter of
Islington : —

And as xhe went along tb* high road,

The weather being hot and dry,
She sat 'her down upon a green bank,

And her true love came riding by.

That true lovers are given to riding by, in ballads, I
know very well, but I hardly supposed they did so in
real life, especially when every precaution had been
taken to avert such a catastrophe. I had told the Bar-
bury Green postmistress on the morning of my arrival,
not to give the Thornycroft address to anybody whatso-
ever, but finding, as the days passed, that no one was
bold enough or sensible enough to ask for it, I haugh-
tily ■withdre'v my prohibition. About this time I began
sending en elopes, carefully addressed in a feigned

[106]

.1 -v'li

THK niARV OK A OOOSR OIRI.

hand, to a ctrtain person at the Oxenbridge Hydro.
These envelojH^s contained no word of writing, but held»
on one day only a bit of ilown from a hen's breast, on
anoiiier, a goose-quill, on another, a glossy tail-feather,
on another, n grain of corn, and so on. These triHes

Hit ivat unable to take t lie four raibiii

were regarded by me not as degrading or unmaidenly
hints and suggestions, but simply as tests of intelli-
gence. Could a man receive tokens of this sort and
fail to put two and two together ? I feel that I might

[107]

^.■:garJii

I'^JS"

.4 !

THE DIARY 0^ A liOOSK tilRI.

pOBsibly «upiK)rt life with a «lomineering uml auto-
cratic husliatul, — iiiitl there is «svery prosixsct that I
aholl bo called uimi to do so,— but not with a stupid
one. Hupiwse on« were liuked forever to a man ca-
pable of asking, — " Did i/ou send those feathers ? "
. . . "How was I to guess?" . . . "How was a fellow
to know they came from you ?"...«• What on earth
could I suppose they meant •' " . . . " What clue did
they offer me as to your whereabout? ?"..,» Am I
a Sherlock Holmes?" — No, better eternal celibacy
than marriage with such a being !

These were the thoughts that had been coursing
through my goose-girl mind while I had been selling
dressed iMJultry, but in some 'vay they had not pre-
pared me for the appearance of the aforesaid true love.

To see the very i)erson whom one has left civiliza-
tion to avoid is always more or less surprising, and to
make the meeting .uss likely, Buttington is even fartlier
from Oxenbridge than Uarbury Green. The creature
was well mounted (ominous, when he came to override
my caprice!) and he looked bigger, and, yes, hand-
somer, though that doesn't signify, and still more
determined than when I saw him last ; although good-
ness knows that timidity and feebleness of purjKJse
were not in striking evidence on that memorable occa-
sion. I had drawn up under the shade of a tree osten-
sibly to eat some cherries, thinking that if I turned my

[108]

ri i

i «» .*■

TIIK IMAMV Ol' A liODSK lilHI.

face away I might pass unri'eogtiiz.«cl. It wnii a stupid
plan, for if l ha.l whippi'd up thi- tnaro ami driven on,
he, of cour«©, would Lave had to follow, and he haa too

/'/

Tit crtamri -wtlt xtltll meitntij

much dignity and self-respect to shriek recriminatioua
into a woman's ear from a distance.

He ar proached with deliberation, reined in his horse,
and lifted his hat ceremoniously. He has an extremely
8hai)ely head, but I did not show tliat the sight of it
melted in the least the ice of my resolve ; whereui)on
we talked, not very freely at first, — men are so stiff
when they consider themselves injured. However,
silence is even more embarrassing than conversation,
So at length I begin : —

[109]

.^1 ^ la-_

TMK DIARY OF A UOQ»K CilRI.

fittUiff't Iktufjhtrr. — <• It ia a lovely ilay."

Tnif /.«»»•(», — " Ve*, hut the ilruught i« letting ra'htr
ojipreiMiiv«, lUm't you think ? "

Uiiiliff'a Ihniijhfrt. — " Thn oropit certainly nreil raia,
ami the hm\ \n iM'piuning soarre."

Truf Liii'f. — " Arp you a f;irnier'i» wifi- ',* "

Uailiff't Itaittjhtvf. — "Oh, no! that is a promotiou
tu luuk furwarti to; I am now only a (iuuhu Girl."

Trtie Love. — " IniliH-d! If I wished to bi severe I
might rumark that I am sure yuu havu found at last
your true vocation ! "

Ihiiliff'H IhiH'jhtt-r. — "It was ci'rtainly through no
desiro to pleasw ynu that I choso it."

True Loi'i: — " I am <iuit« sure of that ! Are you
staying in this part ? "

Jiaillff'$ I>nii;//ifir. ~~'*i)h, no! I live many miles
distant, over an extrera«>ly rough road. And you ?"

Tno. Love. — *' I am still at the Hydro[)athi« ; or at
lt>a.Mt my luggage is there."

/Siiillff'M piniijhter. — "It must be very pleasant to
attract you so long."

True Lovr. — " Not so pleasant as it was."

JiaUljf's Damjhter. — "No? A new proprietor, I
suppose."

True Lore. — "No; same proprietor; but the boose
is empty."

Bailiff's Daughtur (yawning purposely). — "That is

[110]

fl i

TiiK niARv or A nonax (wm.

■trang« ; the huteU are utualljr so ftiU at thii MMon.
Why dill »o many Ifare ? "

True Ltn't. ->. <• A» tt matter of fact, only one left.
* Full ' and ' empty ' are purely relattvi, teram. I call a
hotel full whiMi it has yuu in it, empty when it baa n't."

liaitiff't thiiighfer (dying Ui Itttigh but concealing
her h'flings). — " I trust my bulk di.t'n not make the
same irapreasion on the general public ! Well, I won't
detain you longer ; good-afteruoou ; I must go home to
my evening work."

Tnit' Lovf. — " I will accompany you."

liniliff'i lht>ii,h(er.—"ll you are a gentleman you
will remain whcr*!^ you are."

Trui- Loi'f. — «• In the road ? Perhaps ; but if I am
a man I shall follow you ; they always do, I notice.
What are those foolish bundles in the back of that silly
cart?"

Bailiff's I)(iwjhtfr.—'*'¥eed for the pony, please,
sir; fish for dinner; randans and barley meal for the
poultry ; and four unsold rabbits. Would n't you like
them? Only one and sixpence apiece. Hhot at three
o'clock this morning."

True Love. — " Thanks ; I don't like mine shot so
early."

Bailiff 'h Daufjhffr. — "Oh, well! doubtless I shall
be able to dis^)08e of them ou my way home, though
times is 'ard ! "

[111]

r«

THE DIARY OF A GOOSE CiRL

True Love. — " Do you mean that you will ' peddle '
them along the road ? "

Bailiff's Daughter. — " You understand me better
than usual, — in fact to perfection."

Ktj dismounts and strides to the ba ; J t!io cart
lifts the covers, seizes the rabbits, tiiu^' .-oik; silver
contemptuously int') the basket, and looks about him for
a place to bury his bargain. A small boy approaching
in the far distance will probably bag the game.

fiaillff's JJuufjhter (modvstly). — "Thanks for your
trade, sir, rather ungraciously bestowed, and we 'opes
for a contiuu9tice of your past fyvors."

True Love (leaning on the wheel of the trap). —
"Let us stop this nonsense. What did you hope to
gain hy running away ? "

Bailiff's Daughter. — " Distance and absence."

True Love.--"Yii\x knew you couldn't prevent my
offering myself to you sometime or other."

Bailiff's Danyhter. — '• Perhaps not ; but I could at
least defer it, could n't I ? "

Tr^ie Love. — « Why postpone the inevitable ? "

Bailiff's Daughter. — " Doubtless I shrank from giv-
ing you the pain of a refusal."

True Love. — "Perhaps; but do you know what I
suspect ? "

Bailiff's Daughter. — " I 'm not a suspicious person,
thank goodness ! "

[112]

THE DIARY OK A GOOSE GIRL

True Love. — " That, on the contrary, you are will-
fully withholding from uie th«' joy of acceptance."

JiuUlff'x Dawjhter. — "If I intended to accept you,
why did 1 run away ? "

True Love. — " To make yourself more desirable and
precious, I suppose."

liaUlff'K Daughter (with the most confident co-
quetry). — " Did I succeed ? "

True Love. — " No ; you failed utterly."

Bailiff's Dawjhter (secretly piqued). — "Then I am
glad 1 tried it."

True Love. — "You couldn't succeed because you
were superlatively desiroble and precious already ; but
you should never have experimented. Don't you know
that Love is a high explosive ? "

Bailiff's Daughter. — "Is it? Then it ought al-
ways to be labeled ' dangerous,' ought n't it ? But who
thought of suggesting matches ? I 'm sure I did n't ! "

True Love. — " No such luck ; I wish you would."

Bailiff's Daughter. — "According to your theory, if
you apply a match to Love it is likely to ' go off.' "

True Love. — "I wish you would try it on mir*' i
await the result. Come now, you '11 have to marrj ao-
body, sometime."

P'liliff's Daughter. — "I confess I don't see the ne-
cessity."

True Love (morosely). — " You 're the sort of woman

[113]

THE DIARY OF A GOOSE GIRL

men won't leave in undisturbed s insterhood; they'll
keep on badgering you."

Bailiff's Daughter. — " Oh, I don't mind the badger-
ing of a n- mber of men j it 's rather nice. It 's the one
badger I find obnoxious."

True Lore (impatiently). — " That's just the perver-
sity of things. I could put a stop to the protestations
of the many; I should like nothing better — but the
pertinacity of the one! Ah, well! I can't drop that
without putting an end to my existence."

Bailiff's Daufjhtrr (politely). — « I shouldn't think
of suggesting anything so extreme."

True Love (quoting). — « ' Mrs. Hauksbee proceeded
to take the conceit out of Pluffles as you remove the
ribs of an umbrella before re-covering.' However, you
couldn't ask me anything seriously that I would n't do,
dear Mistress Perversity."

Bailiffs Daughter (yielding a point). — "I'll put
that boldly to the proof. Say you don't love me ! "

True Love (seizing his advantage). — « I don't ! It 's
imbecile and besotted devotion ! Tell me, when may I
come to take you away ? "

Bailiffs Daughter (sighing). — « It 's like asking me
to leave Heaven."

True Love. — "I know it ; she told me where to find
you, — Thornycroft is the seventh poultry-farm I've
visited, — but you could never leave heaven, you are

[114]

Iniii,

Li,^.li:-;fr:,^,*^-'r \r"/?' ^rlT/ --r^^g^;

ilJSErv^l

TIIK UIAHY OK A (iOOSE (;iHI.

always carrying it along with you. All you would havo
to do is to admit me; heaven is full of twos. If you
can't bo happy without poultry, wliy that is a wish
easily gratified. ' 11 get you a farm to-morrow; no,

Pkccbt and Gladiviih

it 's Saturday and the real estate offices close at noon,
but on Monday, without fail. Your ducks and geese
shall swim on a crystal lake — Phoebe told me what

[115]

\r\

THE DIA V OK A fiOOSK <;IHL

.1 genius you liavo for getting them out of the muddy
pond; she was sitting beside it when I called, her
hand in that of a straw-colored person named (Madwish
and the ground in her vicinity completely strewn with
votive offerings. You shall splash your silver sea with
an ivory wand ; your hens shall have suburban cottages,
nach with its garden; their perches shall be of satin-
wood and their water dishe;< of mother-of-pearl. You
shall be the Goose Girl and I will be the Hwan Herd
— simply to be near you, for I hate live poultry. Dost
like the picture ? It 's a little like Claude Melnotte's,
I confess. The fact is I am not quite sane; talking
with you after a fortnight of the tabbies at the Hydro
is like quaffing inebriating vodka after Miffin's B^ood !
May I come to-morrow ? "

Bailiff's Daiitjhtev (hedging). — "! shall bo rather
busy; the Crossed Minorca hen comes off to-morrow."

True Love. — " Oh, never mind ! I '11 take her off to-
night when I escort you to the farm ; then she '11 get a
day's advantage."

Bailiff^s Daughter. — "And rob fourteen prospective
chicks of a mother ; nay, lose the chicks themselves ?
Nevei ! "

True Love. — " So long as you are a Goose Girl,
does it make any difference whose you are ? Is it any
more agreeable to be IVIrs. Heaven's Goose Girl than
mine ? "

[116]

til

THE DIARY Ol- A (loOSK <ilRL

Bniliff^s Daughter. — " Ah ! but in ono case the term
of service is limited ; in the other, permanent."

True Love. — " Bui in the one case you are the slave
of the employer, in the other the employer of the slave.
Why did you run away ? "

Bniliff's Daughter. — '' \ man's mind is too dull an
instrument to measure a woman's reason ; v, .my own
fails sometimes to deal with all its delicate shades ; but
I think I must have run away chiefly to taste the plea-
sure of being pursued and brought back. If it is neces-
sary to your happiness that you should explore all the
Bluebeard chambers of my being, I will confess further
that it has taken you nearly three weeks to accomplish
what I supposed you would do in three days ! "

True Love (after a well-spent interval). — "To-mor-
row, then; shall we say before breakfast? Ah, do!
Why not? Well, then, immediately after breakfast,
and I breakfast at seven nowadays and sometimes ear-
lier. Do take off those ugly cotton gloves, dear ; they
are five sizes too large for you and so rough and baggy
to the touch ! "

[117]

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