The Ely miner. [volume] (Ely, Minn.) 1895-1986, 1898-11-23

Jefferson, Andrew Jackson and George
Washington, often talked about
climbing the lone tree, but they never
did so.
One day month later Mrs. Dassy
came out Of the coop and said: "Well,
she didn't do so bad, think"
"How many?" inquired Mr.. Dassy.
"Seven."
"No, that isn't bad, considering. Are
they likely-looking critters?"
swell, they don't handsome much
now, of course. Young turkeys never
do. But I'm reckoning that next
Thanksgiving the biggest one of 'em,
baked to turn, on the blue platter,
with his legs sticking up in the air.
as you'll see, William Henryl"
Her husband smiled and rubbed his
hands. ooh, I'm not saying a word
against juicy young turkeys on plat
tiers bout Thanksgiving time. What
I object to is their gobbling and strut
ting around and feeling so big"
Don't say anything, William
Henry" replied his wife; "Pve known
you to gobble and strut around and
feel big"
1t was still early in the spring, and
the weather was cold. Perhaps it was
from this cause that the next day one
of the young turkeys died. But the
careful nursing of Mrs. Dassy, to-
gether with the good care Of their
foster mother, the little specified hen,
brought the other six through to
warm weather. By this time they were
able to make excursions about the
nearby prairie.
But their troubles were not over.
At the first rain the whole flock crowd
ed under a haystack, and they pressed
forward so hard that one of them
was smothered to death. A fortnight
later a chicken-hawk swooped down
and carried off another, although
the little hen fought desperately and
lost half her feathers in the struggle.
There were but four left now.
But the worst was yet to come. A
week later there was a great rain
storm. Shortly before it's coming Mrs.
Dassy had seen the turkeys under the
barn, so she supposed them safe; but,
in point of fact, when it began they
were twenty rods out on the prairie. At
the first drops the hen began to fut-
ter and cluck wildly in an attempt to
lead them back, but they refused to
bulge. There on the open prairie they
weathered it out, and when the rain
ceased and Mrs. Dassy discovered them
and spattered out through the puddles
she found three of them drowned.
"There the fools were," she cried,
coming back, carrying the only living
one left, call drowned standing up, with
their mouths open SOS to get the
most of it. There never was such fools
as young turkeys!"
81 always said it, Melvira," replied
Mr.. Dassy, gloomily. They're the big
gest fools in all creation. That ends
our plans for Thanksgiving"
"No, it don't, William Henry" re-
turned his wife, vigorously. ''This ones
alive, and he's going to stay alive!"
And she rolled him in flannel cloth
and put him in the oven to dry. Mr..
Dassy shook his head.
"No hope, Melvira, no hope" he an
swered. He'll turn up his toes inside
of a week. It's bound to come! I've
felt it in my bones all along. Why, if
that turkey can't die any other way,
he'll up and go off and commit sui
cide!'
"Stop your croaking, William
Henry" said Mrs. Dassy, sharply. "This
turkey is going to live till Thanksgiv-
ing, and then he'll die natural death
for turkeys"
did pull through the flood first-rate,
there's no denying that. Almost as
well as Noah did through his flood.
That's what We'll call him, Melvira-
Noah"
"All right, William Henry; his name
is Noah"
Mrs. Dassy was right about Noah's
chances for living; half-hour in the
oven made him as sprightly as ever.
In fact, he wriggled out of the oven
himself and went plaintively peeping
away out of the open door to the
speckled hen, who was delirious with
JOY at the sight of him.
The storm seemed to mark a turn
ing-point in Noah's life. There was
no more trouble. The rains either
ceased or he defied them. The chick
en-hawks never made any more at
tacks. Indeed they wouldshortly have
had trouble in carrying him off, since
he grew with the most astonishing
rapidity. The specified hen was soon
the smaller of the two, and found her.
self following behind as he wandered
here and there. Then he began to
ignore her entirely, and at night took
to roosting on the ridge-pole Of the
barn.
This was too much for the hen; she
gave him up, and he went his own way
in the world. The grasshopper sea-
I