The Detroit times. [volume] (Detroit, Mich.) 1903-1920, 1915-10-27
The Hen
nv Or FRANK CRANE
copyright. 1915, by Frank CpaneS
/ sing of the hen.


No, not the Orpington or Plymouth
Rock or any fancy-frizzled, feather-leg-
ged sort of prize fowl but just the plain,
ordinary, everyday hen, that walks
around and clucks and paws the ground,
jerks her head with howdy-do every
step, runs right in front of the automo-
bile and occasionally sneaks off into the
brush and lays an egg.
met a man The other day that had
just got back from Turkey. He had got
into a scrape, along with three other
Americans, somewhere up around Har-
poot, which is some days camel ride from
the ways and means of civilized transport
tation.
''We were in prison." he said. Smith
ers had punched big Turk in the nose
because he didn't like his face, and also
because Smithers was considerably lit up
with some sort of heather strong drink.
at proved to be Turk of consequence,
one of the acknowledgements of the
community, and we were in for it. We
put up grand fight, but it was no use.
The guards swarmed us and soon laid Us
by the heels.
1--WE were thrown into prison. A dirtier
hole does not exist this side of the bitches
of Gehenna. Like Coleridge in Cologne,
we counted seventy-two separate and dis.
tinct stenches and several stinks.
"To all of which was added the assur-
ance that as soon as the sun rose in all
his glory next morning we were to be
taken out and stood against wall, and
eXeunt omnes.
1--WE got through the night somehow.
| It was bad and long one, yet / can't
say we were in hurry for sun-up.
"But by and by it came, boiling up in
an uncouded sky, as pleasant as though
it were not hurrying to witness the ex-
tinction of four perfectly good Ameri-
cans.
"There was little barred window. l
was looking out at it. No glass, you
know. lust hole. And suddenly l saw
sight and heard a sound that knocked
me. 4,
81 Just gave one wild yelp and turned
around. covered my face with my hand
and bellered like baby.
"'What the -" they exclaimed all,
and came crowding up to the window
to see.
at wasn't Old Glory floating from q
pole. or British grm-boat riding in the
offing. or bagpipe playing The Camp
bells Are Coming
81 have heard that there are soul-stir.
ring sights and sounds to dying men.
Maybe.
"But what l saw was just an old hen
looking around for worm. And VIVA!
| I heard was her 'cut-cut-cut, cuttaw-cut.
well, sir, it Topped me back twenty
wears in minute. / saw dad going OUT
with his milk pail to the barn, and moth
err scattering handfuls Of corn to the
chickens, and sister May and all, ana
before | knew it was blubbering.
who'd ever have thought they have
hens in Turkey? OF course. come TO
think of it, why shouldn't they? But
we had been for weeks among foreigners,
with gibberish languages and fuzzy-wuz-
Nv customs, and felt out OF the world
plumb.
"And that blamed old specked hen
just brought me back to earth SO swift
it knocked the breath out OF me.
That's ALL They didn't kill us, or l
wouldn't be here. We fixed 1t up with
the old Turk and got away.
"Put to nv dying day I'll never for
oet the shock that old hen gave me.
"She was the humanest thing Ia seen.
She was humaner than humanity.
"Did YOU ever think how blamed hui
man hen is? Wherever you go, Europe:
Trope. and Stirrup. there you find old
Mrs. Hen. and she's just the same old
common greens she was in dads back
yard.
"I've never eaten chicken since, by the
way. It's all right for them that like
| it.
"put I'd as soon think of eating my
mother"