Ghe Swallow-Gailed Hen.

WO dear little girls went out to
play,
And mamma said, as
skipped away,
“Don’t go to the barn, now

 
 

they

mind!
For we’ve shut up the chickens that came
to-day,
From the nest old Swallow-tail hid in the
hay

That nobody ever could find;
And the mother is clucking with all her
might,
Clucking and strutting and ready to fight:
Why even the men
Are afraid of the hen!
Don’t go to the barn, I say.”

“No! no!” cried the good little girls; “Not
wel”
So out they scampered the world to see;
Such a great big place for play!
The bird and the bee flew far and free,
And the children followed, so full of glee
They never noticed the way;
They leaped the logs near the buzzing mill,
Went over the fence and under the hill,
Waded the pond
To the barn beyond,
And the grand old “acorn-tree.’

Oh, and the sun was warm that day!
The dear little girls were tired of play,
So down they sat in the shade.
“Just hear hear old Swallow-tail cluck!”
Fay;
“Come on! Let’s go in the barn,” said May.
“Tt’s silly to be so ’fraid!”
So up she ran and took out the pin
From the staple that fastens the chickens in;
“Oh, oh!” cried she;
“Do come and see!
Come into the barn, I say

said

{?

Right in went the bold little girlies then,
In spite of the fowl that fought the men—
That grave old, brave old bird.
They counted the little ones, “eight, nine,
ten.”
They kissed them over and over again,
But the hen said never a word.
Puzzled and bothered and filled with doubt,
She walked and stalked and circled about
All ’round the floor,
Till she reached the door,
Then off went the swallow-tailed hen.

“Good-bye! good riddance
with a frown;
And she tucked the birdies all up in her
gown—
Wee roosters and comical pullets!
Such dear little, queer little balls of down,
Puffy and fluffy and yellow and brown,
With eyes as round as bullets!
Set a thousand like them up in a row
Not one could cackle, or cluck or crow’
But out they’d pop
And away they’d hop.
Just cunning from claw to crown!

quoth May

“But Swallow-tail’s gone, she’s gone!” sighed
Fay;

‘She'll never come back, she’s gone to stay, -
The poor little chicks will die!’
“Oh, ho! what a goose to be frightened away
By two little, kind little girls!” laughed May,
“That never would hurt a fly.
We'll just run out and shoo her back in,
And shut up the door, and put in the pin

So nobody’ll know,

Then off we'll go

To the saw-mill yard and play.”

Now where had Swallow-tail gone,oh, where
They hunted here, and they hunted there,
But the fowl had hidden well;