The midland journal. (Rising Sun, Md.) 1885-1947, 1899-12-08
BoGGLEs' BRINDLE HEN.
She Kept Her Owner Busy Trying to
Keep Track of Her and
Made Him Mad.

A hen may possess fewer brains than
any other animal of her heft, but you
would think she might make some use
of the few she has. Yes, man might
reasonably expect that much of her, at
any rate, snorted Boggles, as he limped
into the house, rubbing his head with
one hand and nursing his knee with the
other, and dropped heavily into chair.
why, what has hen been doin' to
you now, Hiram? Hain't bit you, has
she?" demanded Mrs. Boggles, looking
up from her sewing.
"Bit me! Ever hear of hen bitin'
anybody? Better wait till they get
teeth to bite WITH" observed Boggles,
sarcastically, between groans.
"Well, what has she been doin',
then?'' persisted Boggles' better half.
Better ask what she hain't been
doin'. 'Twouldn't take half ez long t:
tell what she hain't been doin' ez to tell
what she has. Remember that yaller
hen l traded an got of Bill Jones last
fall fer bushel of turnips?"
"Yes."
chasin' her off nests an tryin' to keep
her from settin' fer the past leven
weeks or tharabouts, ez nigh ez i kin
figger 1t with one eye shut. I've caught
her settin' on door-knobs, pieces of
hardware, goose-eggs, hen-eggs, chunks
of chalk, chips, croquet-balls, an once
l found her settin' on the coal-scuttle
frxy xyix,, 10 hot oh
ez l said, chased her off, an sent her
scootin' about her business-or what
orter been her busincss-of layin' eggs
every time / run acrost her; but she
finally found nest with one egg in it
off out of sight under the barn some
where, where l couldn't get at her, an
at last she has succeeded in her efforts
to hatch out somethin'. She's got one
little msasly yaller chicken day old
an about ez big eZ the nub end of nuth-
in; an I'll be swiZzled if that hen hain't
gone up into the very top of the biggest
an tallest apple-tree on the place to
roost, an she's been squattin' there on
limb fer the last half hour cluckin'
away like all possessed tryin' to call
that chicken up the tree after her!"
'Why don't you coax her down,
Hiram, so she can take care of her chick
en- as she ought top gently inquired
Mrs. Boggles.
I'D coax her down in hurry if / had
a pole long enough" grated Boggles
beween his clinched teeth. "A hen of
that kind ought to be coaxed into the
middle of next week or q pot-pie, an left
there. tried to point out the error of
her ways to her with n club, but the first
time threw it at her it come down an
raised lump on my head ez big ez a
fall pippin, an the next time tried it
it struck one of the lower limbs of the
tree an bounced back an give my knee
cap such rap that it has been singin':
Hail Columby' ever sence, an"
sand the hen is up in the tree yet, is
she?" broke in Mrs. Boggles, anxiously.
"Yes; an she's liable to stay there fer
all of mel" answered Boggles. "She kin
keep on roostin' right there till the
cows come home or the north pole is
discovered, fer all care. I'm through
otiiciatin' as dry-nurse an general
overseer to half-baked. no-account
brindle hen an one little, measly, two
cent chicken. That's the way | feel
about that if anybody asks you. An
now. Hammer, if you will trot out the
arnica-bottle an douse some OF it on
where it will do me the most good, I'll
be ob,eeged to ye."
And Boggles sat down and prepared
to groan while Mrs. Boggles rubbed on
the arnica.-Will S. Gidley. in Woman's
Home Companion.