at Bertram House. Heaven
bless him, beloved angel!"

It is as sad as true that great natures are solitary, and therefore
doubly value the affections of their pets.

Southey wrote a most interesting biography of the cats of Greta Hall,
and on the demise of one wrote to an old friend: "Alas! Grosvenor, this
day poor old Rumpel was found dead, after as long and as happy a life as
cat could wish for--if cats form wishes on that subject. There should be
a court mourning in Cat-land, and if the Dragon wear a black ribbon
round his neck, or a band of crape, <i>a la militaire</i>, round one of the
fore paws, it will be but a becoming mark of respect. As we have not
catacombs here, he is to be decently interred in the orchard and catnip
planted on his grave."

And so closes this catalogue of Southey's "Cattery."

But, hark! my cats are mewing, dogs all calling for me--no--for dinner!
After all, what is the highest civilization but a thin veneer over
natural appetites? What would a club be without its <i>chefs</i>, a social
affair without refreshment, a man without his dinner, a woman without
her tea? Come to think of it, I'm hungry myself!

CHAPTER V.

STARTING A POULTRY FARM.

If every hen should only raise five broods yearly of ten each, and
there were ten hens to start with, at the end of two years they
would number 344,760, after the superfluous roosters were sold; and
then, supposing the extra eggs to have paid for their keeping and
the produce to be worth only a dollar and a half a pair, there would
be a clear profit of $258,520. Allowing for occasional deaths, this
sum might be stated in round numbers at a quarter of a million,
which would be a liberal increase from ten hens. Of course I did not
expect to do as well as this, but merely mention what might be done
with good luck and forcing.

ROBERT ROOSEVELT.

Having always heard, on the best authority, that there was "money in
hens," I invested largely in prize fowls secured at State fairs and
large poultry shows, buying as many kinds as possible to make an
effective and brilliant display in their "runs."

There <i>is</i> a good deal of money in my hens--how to get it back is the
present problem. These hens were all heralded as famous layers; several
did lay in the traveling coops on the journey, great pinky-brown
beauties, just to show what they could do if they chose, then stopped
suddenly. I wrote anxiou