WHAT'S TO BE DONE WITH THE TURKEY.

Otago Witness, Issue 1320, 17 March 1877, Page 21

WHAT'S TO BE DONE WITH THE TURKEY.

A brochure under the title of " What's to be done with the Turkey? or, John Bull's Dilemma," has just been published by Messrs W. Mullan & Son, Paternoster Row. Mr and Mrs Bull are the superintendents of a quiet farmyard in the country. For a long time the inhabitants of the yard have suffered much from the cruelties of the turkey — a swollen, greedy, cruel, and swaggering tyrant. The other occupants of the farmyard introduced into the story are the " Russian pig," and the Servian cock." Mr Turkey was a great favourite of Mr Bull's, and he would hear no evil of it. "A good, fat, harmless fellow," Mr Bull would say, "his only fault was laziness." One morning there is a great commotion in the farmyard. Mr Bull walks to the window in order to see what is the cause of the commotion. For a moment he failed to see the cause of the hubbub ; but suddenly his eye fell on the group in the centre of the yard. There, struggling under the powerful grip of the turkey, whose beak was already red with blood, was the poor little Servian cock, of which his wife had spoken, the finest and the pluckiest of its kind. Although seemingly at the last gasp it was still struggling bravely, and actually drawing blood from the thick skin of its opponent, who was red and gobbling with rage. Close behind the turkey, apparently urging him on, and at all events making no effort to save the tiny victim, was a queer-looking youth, with long corkscrew ringlets, and a wrinkled, old-fashioned face. He was clad in corduroy breeches, and coarse stockings and shoes, he was in his shirt sleeves, and he wore on his head a fine velvet cap, prettily ornamented with a device like an Earl's coronet.

He had received the cap as the reward of good conduct in the neighbouring Sunday school ; but, for all that, he was not a pious boy, and much preferred playing at odds-and-evens in church to listening to the gushing sermons. Directly he caught his master's eye, the boy withdrew from the combatants, put his hands in his pockets, and began to whistle, innocently, and to look at the sky. v Mr Bull threw up the window. "Benjy!" " Yes, master." « ' Pull off that turkey at once, or there'll be murder done. Look sharp !" But by thi3 time the little cock had sht ikon himself free. Bloody from head to root, he stood on tiptoe, stretched out his tiny throat, began to crow, "How did it begin, Ben?" asked his master.

Ben cast an angry look in the direction of the cock. "The little 'un began it," he replied ; "they're that aggravating these bantams. I ace him — pointing to the cock — strutting up and down before the turkey's face, and before I knew what was up had sprung up and pricked him with his spurs. The poor old turkey's badly hurted, sir, and I'd like to wring the little brute's neck."

Ben is, of course, the farmer's boy. He is described as rather a mischievous youth, fond of excitement and fine clothes. He has supplanted William, a boy of a very different stamp, noted for his good character, and his love of books. There is much argument between Mr Bull and his wife, as to what should be done with the turkey. A solemn conference is held on the subject, and William proposes that the Russian pig should be let "loose and set upon the turkey. This is how Mr Bull sums up the conference, and decides the question :—: —

Mr Bull threw himself into a chair, and for a long time remained plunged in deep cogitation. The two boys stood by, watching him with eager eye, while Mrs Bull, knowing her husband's temper, quietly busied herself with household matters.

Finally, the honest man looked up with no very amiable expression of countenance.

"It's a bad thing," he said, "that matters can't go on peaceably, especially at Christmas time. Look here, William, I suppose you've heard that Christmas k the time for peace on earth, good-will to all things?" "Except turkey," said William, smiling. "Exceptnothing/'saidMrßull. "Bah! you're a bit of a prig, William !"

"Thank you, sir." "And as for you, Ben, you're not much better, and if you don't conduct yourself in a more becoming way, you and I shall quarrel. The fact is, lam pleased with neither of you. You're only trying to serve your own ends, and not thinking about my interest at all. One has to make an angel of the turkey, the other glorifies the pig, and both ought to know better."

So saying Mr Bull was going to leave the room, when his wife cried out eagerly : " But, Mr Bull, you haven't decided at all what's to be done with the turkey." The farmer turned savagely, his face as red as the turkey's comb. "I tell you what it is," he cried, "I'm sick of the whole business. If peace is not kept in the farmyard, I'll astonish the whole lot of you. For the time being, the turkey will be let alone and closed tight in his coop, and Vie pig will be shut

up in his sty ; and I look to you, Ben, to see this done. If ever this fuss begins again — "

John Bull paused as if preparing to take a great oath.

"If ever it begins again — mark my words — before next Christmas, old as the turkey is and tough, I'll eat him." William smiled. Ben looked dejected. "But, mind you, when the day comes that I do sat him, he'll be served up in the usual way, with a string of sausages around him, and these sausages — " " Yes, yes," cried Mrs Bull. " Will be the very last you'll see of the pig." — Dundee News.