OUR BOYS & GIRLS.

New Zealand Mail, Issue 810, 9 September 1887, Page 5

OUR BOYS & GIRLS.

‘ BEN AND I.’

* Would you like to take a ride’’—‘Oh, yes ! if you please, thank you.’ Her eyes fairly danced with delight as she climbed in and seated herself beside me. * Oh, my ! ’ she exclaimed as the horse trotted on, ‘ how jolly nice this is. This is the first time I ever rode in a buggy in all my life, and I am eight years old. Why it runs as smooth as—as glass ! ’—That was my introduction to Ettie Brown, whom I overtook on the road one bright May morning, eight years ago. I had recently settled in the thriving little town of B . in the State of Illinois, and was that morning driving into the country on business. She was tripping along as merry as a lark, with a tin pail in one hand and a small basket in the other. Where are you going ?’ I ventured to ask.— ‘ I’m going to Mr Wicker’s to get some eggs, and a hen to sit on them. Mr Wicker sold them to Ben. Ben’s my brother, and he’s two years older than I am. He had the measles this spring—l had ’em too—but I got well right away, but Ben didn’t; and Doctor Wills told ma she would have to get him some fresh milk every morning to make him well and strong again ; and so Mr Wicker told Doctor Wills that he would give ma a quart every day if she would send for it, and so I go to Mr Wicker’s every morning for it. It is two miles from our house to Mr Wicker’s, but I start at five o’clock and get back in time for breakfast. I see so many pretty birds and things that I like to go awful well. Mr Wicker told Ben that he would send him a mess of eggs for a dollar, and wait a year’s time for the money, and lend him the sittingest hen he has on the farm to hatch ’em out; and I’m going to fetch them now. They are a new kind of e gg 3 — Plym Plym Plymmer rockets, and Mr Wicker’s going to teaoh Ben how to get rich on eggs—l mean raising eggs and selling them. Ben’s getting well now, and I’m glad he is, because we need him to help me to carry the clothes. You see ma washes for folks, and we fetch the clothes and carry ’em back again after they are washed. You know pa got run over by a train, and he s dead. I’ll tell you how it was : You see one train was coining this way, and one was coming that; and pa he Baw this one, and he stepped out of the way, and he never saw the other, and it ran over him and killed him. Poor pa! You know ma’s lame, but she has to work to raise Ben and me. We have a house and one acre of land, but there’s a mortgage on it for fifty dollars, and Mr Eaton he’s the bank man—he said he didn’t care for the money if ma would just pay the -the impress every year, and that’s four dollars. Ma thinks he’s pretty good. Don’t you? We need lots of things, and when Ben and I grow big, we’re going to earn moneyand buy them. We are going to build a pen for the chickens, and a house for them to lay in, and Ben says we're going to make lots of money ; and then ma won’t have to wash so much, and—oh, please stop ! This is where Mr Wicker lives.’ She popped up and jumped out over the wheel almost before the horse stopped.—' That isn’t the way to get out of a buggy. You must wait until the horse stops and I turn him—so ; then you can put your foot on the step and get down easily. See ?’— ‘ Oh, yes. Please excuse me. I thought you got out over the top. I’ll know better next time, see if I don’t. Ma says I do everything before I get ready, but I don’t, because I_I know I don’t, very much! Good bye,’ «If yon will wait here half an

hour, you can ride back to town with me.’ — ‘ Oh, I shall be glad to wait. I will sit right by the gate and watch for you. Please don’t forget me ?’—When I returned she was sitting by the fence waiting for me. As she banded me the pail she said : ‘ Please be very careful with these. Mr Wicker said I must not shake them the least bit, or they won’t hatch. This is the hen; she’s awful ugly, and she bit me twice. Mr Wicker gave ma a letter for Ben. It tells him not to set the hen till night, then put her in a nice box, so she won’t run away, and all about it.’—And thus she chattered on until we reached her home, where we found Ben anxiously awaiting her. That was eight years ago. Ben is now a stalwart-business-like young fellow, and Ettie a tall rosy-cheeked young lady. We have been great friends ever sine that bright May morning, and I have closely watched their progress in the poultry business, from that small beginning of thirteen eggs and a borrowed hen, until the present time, and I will give my young readers the story complete. A week before Spotty (that was the name of the hen) hatched her chicks, Ben was able to get about and fix up a coop for her. While Spotty was sitting, Ettie kept a can of fresh water near her, and fed her every evening just before sunset, so that she was never off the nest more than two minutes at a time. On the twentieth day she wouldn’t come off the nest to eat, and while Ettie stood wondering what couM be the matter with her, she heard the ‘peep,’ « peep,’ of a chick, and then she saw a little black head poked out from beneath Spotty’s wing. * Oh, you sweet, sweet—oh ma 1’ she screamed, ‘ here’s a chick ! a chick ! a chick ! do come quick ! Oh Ben ! Well, did you ever, ever, ever !’ Ben came up with his hands in his pockets, looking very wise and important, and after surveying the new arrival a moment, said he thought it a very fine chick. And he believed it was a hen • And it will lay eggs !’ cried Ettie. ‘ Oh, goody, goody 1 Now we’ll get r ch, and ma won’t have to wash so much. I could just hug that dear old Spotty!’ Lae in the afternoon of the following day, Mrs Brown examined the nest and found eleven nice chicks. They were placed with old Spotty in Ben’s coop, and fed three times a day with all the wheat screenings and cold corn meal mush they could eat. Ben brought them a box of fine gravel from the creek, and kept an old can filled with water for them to drink. They grew rapidly and soon began to run away from poor old Spotty and go where they pleased. She Letted and fussed about it so much, that Ben took her back to Mr Wicker’s. As there was only a common three-boardfence round the lot, the chicks soon found their way into the garden of Mr Patriek Doody, who was Mrs Brown’s next neighbour. Though Mr Doody’s fowls ran all over the neighbourhood, he did not relish the idea of having other people’s fowls intrude upon his domain. Mr Wicker advised Ben to make his fence chickenproof, and thus not only keep his own chickens, but shut out all others. From a gentleman who owned a large wood lot, about two miles from town, Ben obtained permission to cut enough hazel-brush to make the fence. As he cut it, he bound it in bundles convenient for handling, and Mr Wicker kindly hauled it home for him. Ben worked manfully at his job, and in just three weeks had the fence completed. When the chicks feathered out, he found he had seven hens and four cocks. Before winter came on, he sold three of the cocks for a dollar apiece, and with the money pa’d Mr Wicker for the eggs, and bought enough old lumber to build a little poultry house. I helped him to build it. It was three and one half feet high, six feet long, and four feet wide. Two nest boxes were placed in the farther end, and one of the roof boards was fastened with a leather hinge, so that it could be raised to take opt the eggs. Ben earned money with which to buy food by carrying small parcels from the stores to people about town. All the merchants liked Ben because he was reliable, and when he wasn’t helping his mother, he was almost certain to find a few errands to do. Late in November one of thepullets began to lay, and before Christmas all the seven were laying steadily. Fresh eggs brought a high price that winter, and he sold them to amount to eleven dollars and twenty cents, The following March and April he sold seven sittings, of thirteen eggs each, for one dollar per sitting. He then bought Spotty from Mr Wicker, and two more old hens that were always wanting to sit, for sixty cents, and together they raised forty-two chickens. Three of the Plymouth Rocks raised thirty-nine more, which made eighty-one for the sea on. Fifty-four of them proved to be hens. Of the cocks, j seven were sold during the summer and fall ] for one dollar each. Two had several white feathers on their wings, and were killed for the table. Four of the best were kept in the fl'-ick, and the remaining fourteen were placed in a pen by themselves in one corner of the yard. The pullets were well fed, and began to lay late in the fall. The little poultry house was taken down, and a much larger one built in its stead. In return for the good care given them, the pullets laid steadily all winter, and Ben sold sixty-one dollars’ worth of eggs. Mr Wicker advised them to sell all but thirty rf the hens as soon as the price of eggs fell below fifteen cents per dozen. So about the middle of March, Ben took a trio, two of the hens, and one of the cocks that.he had penned up, and left them at a grocery store to be sold for two dollars and fifty cents. He also entered into an agreement to supply _ them with all the trios of chickens—until his surplus stock was sold off—and all the sittings of eggs that they could sell for him ; they to receive a commission of fifteen per cent on all such sales. The very next day he received the following order : —Office of Sampson & Smite, — Dealers in Groceries, etc., etc., < G -, Ills., March 17,1879. Benj. Brown, Esq.—Dear Sir Chickens I sold and amount placed to your credit. We have orders for five sittings of eggs, three trios of chickens, and two single cocks. Please bring these down to-morrow, and oblige, Yours truly, Sampson & Smith. Ben borrowed a shipping coop from one of the stores, placed the chickens in it, and sent them down by express. The eggs he packed in a basket with bran, and took

down. Within two weeks they sold all the chickens he had to spare, and fourteen sittings of eggs. The annual interest on the mortgage was due on the first day of April, and Ben went to the bank to settle with Mr Eaton. ‘Good morning, Ben,’ said that gentleman cheerily, as Ban entered the bank. * How is the poultry business this morning ? Quotations indicate a rising market T —* No sir; the market is overstocked just now, and prices are down. But I've sold out, and am not interested much.’ ‘Good, Ban, good! You are a thorough business man, I see. What can Ido for you ?’ —‘ I came in to pay that interest, sir, and I would like to pay the debt, too, if you will allow me.’—‘You dou'fc mean to say tha: you have made money enough out of your poultry to pay off that mortgage, do you?’ exclaimed Mr Eaton with surprise.—‘Yes, sir, we have I’ proudly answered Ben.—Just then Mr Wicker entered, and turning to him, Mr Eaton said: ‘Friend Wicker, here is a boy to be proud of—a successful poultryman, only twelve years of age 1 What do you think of that? I hold a mortgage on his mother’s lot, and here he comes to lift it with money of his own earning!—‘Ye9,’ said Mr Wicker, ‘ “ Ben and I ” ’ are making a success of the poultry business.—‘Who’s I ? asked Mr Eaton with a surprised look.— * Ben’s sister, Ettie. She is as good a poultryman as Ben, The two make a team, and it is really refreshing to see how harmoniously they work together. I lend them my American Agriculturist and other papers, and they remember all they read about poultry. ‘But Ben,’ he continued, addres: sing the boy, ‘you need more room. You can do very well on a small scale where you aie now; but you could do much better if you were out of town. If your mother could sell her lot, and buy that little strip of land that lies just over that deep gully in the north-west corner of Mr Johnson s pasture, it would be of great advantage to you. There is about six acres in the piece, and I think Mr Johnson would sell it for a reasonable sum on account of that miry gully. With the woods on the north to shelter you, Mr Johnson’s great pasturo on the south, no very near neighbors, and only a little over a mile from town, you would be splendidly situated for the poultry business.’— ‘ That’s what you want,’ said Mr Eaton, ‘andif your mother wishes to sell her lot, I will find her a customer within half an hour. Tell her I will call after bank closes this evening, and see about it.’

(To be continued.)