The doctor's book on poultry had been announced again and again; but it did not make its appearance in the market, in consequence of his tardiness. Week after week, and month after month, pa.s.sed by, but still no Dr. Bennett's book could be found. I saw some of the proof-sheets finally, observed the fate of the ill.u.s.trations of _my_ fowls, and made up my mind what I would do. The book was at last announced positively to appear in three weeks.

I immediately called at a stereotype foundery, and asked how much time it would require to stereotype a work of one hundred and fifty pages for me. I was told that it would occupy three to four weeks to complete it.

"Can't it be done in _one_ week?" I inquired. The proprietor smiled, and said that this was impossible. I replied, "Well, sir, to-day is Tuesday.

I have engaged to deliver in New York city, on the morning of a week from next Sat.u.r.day, three thousand copies of a book _which I am about to write_. Is there _no_ way that you can help me out?" The gentleman looked at me incredulously.

I added, "Mr. ----, I have been in the newspaper business a good many years, and I have had the message of the President of the United States--a doc.u.ment occupying a dozen columns of solid brevier and minion--set up and put to press within forty-two minutes from the time it reached our office. _Anything_ can be accomplished, now-a-days, if we but will it."

"But, you say you _are about_ to write it. When will the 'copy' be ready?" said the stereotyper.

"I have thought of this," I replied, "but a few hours. The _t.i.tle_, even, is not yet decided upon. I will give you fifty pages of ma.n.u.script to-morrow morning, the next day I will add another fifty, and you shall have the whole in hand by Friday morning."

He kindly undertook to aid me. I engaged three engravers, who worked day and night upon the drawings and transfers of the fowls for my ill.u.s.trations; the paper was wet down on Monday and Tuesday; I read the final revised proof of my work on Wednesday night; the book went to press on Thursday; the binders were ready for it as it came up, the covers were put on on Friday morning, and I sent to the New York house (who had bespoken them), by Harnden's Express, on Friday evening, three thousand five hundred copies of the "NEW ENGLAND POULTRY-BREEDER,"

_ill.u.s.trated with twenty-five correct engravings_ of _my_ choice, magnificent, superb, unapproachable, pure-bred fowls.

This book had an extraordinary sale,--far beyond my own calculations, certainly. I got it out for the purpose of "doing justice" to my own stock, and calculated that it would prove a good advertising medium for me,--which it _did_, by the way. But the demand for the "New England Poultry-Breeder" was immense. And _thirteen_ different editions (varying from three thousand five hundred to one thousand copies each) were issued within as many weeks, and were sold, every copy of them. This is the true history of the "New England Poultry-Breeder."

By and by Dr. Bennett's book appeared. The market was now glutted with this kind of thing, and this work, though a good one, generally, dragged on the hands of its originators. I doubt if a thousand copies of this book ever found their way into the market, the author being too deeply engrossed with his then thriving trade, to trouble himself about urging the sale of his book, or of thinking about the interests of his publishers.

CHAPTER V.

THREATENING INDICATIONS.

Another meeting was now called at the Statehouse, which was even more fully attended than the first, and at which much more serious indications of enthusiasm were apparent.

Old men, and middle-aged farmers, and florists, and agriculturists, and live-stock breeders, from all parts of this and the neighboring states, congregated together on this eventful occasion, and entered into the debate with an earnestness worthy of so important and "glorious" a cause.

Some of the speakers had by this time got to be so elated and so ardent that they rehea.r.s.ed all they knew, and some of them told of a great deal more than themselves or anybody else had ever dreamed of, bearing upon the subject of poultry-raising. But, really, the subject was an exciting one, and the talkers were excusable; they couldn't help it!

Shades of morus multicaulis victims! Shadows of defunct tulip-growers!

Spirits of departed Merino sheep speculators! Ghosts of dead Berkshire pig fanciers! Where were ye all on that eventful night, when six hundred sober, "respectable" representatives of "the people" were a.s.sembled within the walls of our time-honored state edifice upon Beacon Hill, in serious and animated conclave, to decide the momentous question that "hens _was_ hens," notwithstanding, nevertheless!

"Mr. President," exclaimed one of these gentlemen (whose speech was not publicly reported, I think), "Mr. President, the times is propishus.

We're a-enterin' on a new ery. The _people_ is a-movin' in this 'ere great, and wonderful, and extraordinary--I may say, Mr. President, this 'ere soul-stirrin' and 'lectrefyin--branch of interestin' rural erconomy." (Applause, during which the speaker advanced a step or two nearer to the presiding officer's desk, wiped his nose fiercely upon a fiery-red bandanna handkerchief, and proceeded.)

"The world, Mr. President," he continued, "is a-growin' wiser ev'ry day,--I may say ev'ry hour, Mr. President! Ay, sir, ev'ry minute." (Loud applause, amid which one old gentleman in a bob-wig was particularly vociferous.)

"I say, Mr. President, the people is a-growin' wiser continu'lly; and by that expression, sir, I mean to convey the idee that they are a-gettin'

to know more, sir! Who will gainsay this position? Whar's the man--whar's the er--individooal, sir--that'll stan' up 'ere to-night, in this hallowed hall, under the shadder of this doom above our heads, sir, in view of the great American eagle yender,--that 'bird of promise,' sir,--and dispute the a.s.sertion that I now make, Mr.

President, as an American citizen, without fear and without reproach!"

(Deafening shouts of "n.o.body! n.o.body _can_ dispute it!")

"No, _sir_! I think not, I wot not, I ventur' not, I cal'k'late _not_! I say, Mr. President, it is no use for nun of us to contend agin the mighty ingine of progress; 'nless we'd like to get our crowns mashed in for our pains, sir. That's the way it 'pears to _me_; and I've no doubt that this 'nlitened ordinance now present, sir, will agree with me on _this_ p'int, and admit the truth that present indications, sir, p'int, with strikin' force, to the proberble likelihood that the deeds begun here to-night must be forever perpetooated hereafter, and that--a--they will--er--go down, sir, to our children, and our children's children, _a posteriori_, in the futur, forever!" ("Yes, yes!" and thundering applause.)

"But, sir, the p'int at issoo seems to me to be clear as the broad-faced sun on a cloudy day. I'm no speaker, sir. I am not the man, sir, that goes about to proclaim on tops of houses! I'm a quiet citizen, and calls myself one o' 'the people,' sir. But w'en the questions comes up of _this_ natur',--w'en it 'pears to me to be so clear and so transparent,--w'en the people goes abroad, sir, in their might, and--er--and can't stay ter home,--w'en _such_ things occurs, sir, then _I'm round_!" (Shouts of "Good! good! good!" the respectable old gentleman in the bob-wig creating a cloud of dust about him with his stamping and excited gestures.)

"Mr. President, I have a'most done----" ("No, no! Go on, go on!" from all parts of the house.)

"No, sir; as I've said afore, I'm no speaker, an' I make no pretenshuns to oraterry. I'm a plain man, sir; but I feel deeply interested in this subject." (n.o.body had yet ascertained what the "subject" was, because the gentleman hadn't alluded to any.) "And, sir, I feel that I should be unjust to myself and to this ordinance ef I did not say what I have, sir. I go in for the poultry-breedin', sir, all over! Sir,

I love 'em, I love 'em,--an' who shall _dar'_ To chide me for lovin' and praisin' them _'are_?

"I love 'em, sir,--chickens or poultry,--dead or alive. My father afore me loved 'em, sir; and I'm rejoiced to see the feelin's that's exhibited here to-night. And, 'less anybody should suspect that I have ventured upon these few remarks with mercenary motives, Mr. President (though _perhaps_ no such suppersishun would animate no man's bosom), I will state, sir, that I have no fowls to sell, sir,--none whatever. _No_, sir! not a fowl! I'm a buyer, sir,--I want to _buy_," shouted the excited man,--and he sat down amid the deafening plaudits of his a.s.sociates at this meeting, who fully appreciated his speech and his palpable disinterestedness.

(_Item._--I found this gentleman the next day, and informed him that I had heard of his dest.i.tution. I had understood that he had no poultry, but was in search of _pure-blooded_ stock. Before night I had fully supplied him with _genuine_ samples, at thirty dollars a pair, and no "discount for cash.")

Before this meeting concluded, the prices of fowls, and eggs, and feathers, were duly discussed, the details of which I will defer to the next chapter.

But all the indications at this convention were really of a threatening character; and it would have required the strength of several stout men to have held certain of the speakers as they got warmed up, and rattled away, for dear life, upon the advantages that must accrue to the nation, in a thousand ways, from the encouragement of this epidemic, and the certain, inevitable losses that must be sustained by "the people" if they didn't go into this thing with a rush.

Most of these speakers, however, had fowls _for sale_!

CHAPTER VI.

THE EPIDEMIC SPREADING.

While all this was transpiring, my "splendid" Cochin-China fowls had arrived from England, and I had had a nice house arranged, in which to keep and exhibit them to visitors.

The pullets began to lay in January, 1850, and immediately afterwards my trade commenced in earnest, which continued, without interruption, up to the close of the year 1854.

Among the "monstrosities" presented at the second meeting at the Boston Statehouse were several propositions that were suggested by gentlemen-amateurs and farmers in regard to the price that should be fixed on, by members of the Society with the elongated t.i.tle, for _eggs_ sold for incubation.

One man thought that _two_ dollars a dozen for most of the fancy kinds would pay well. This gentleman (I do not remember who he was) probably calculated to furnish fancy eggs as a certain agricultural concern had been doing for some months: that is, by first purchasing them at a shilling a dozen from the eastern packets, or in Quincy Market. The next man thought that _three_ dollars per dozen would be fair. Another member believed that _one_ dollar was enough for twelve eggs, "but he didn't know much about it," he acknowledged; which was pretty evident from his remarks. At any rate, he had never fed a "laying hen" long enough on good corn to ascertain how much she would devour while she was furnishing him with the said twelve eggs, I imagine! One gentleman, more liberally disposed, probably, ventured to express his willingness to pay _five_ dollars a dozen for what he wanted. I understood he got home safely after the meeting, though it was feared he would be mobbed for his temerity in making this ridiculous offer!

I had already fixed _my_ price for the eggs that were to be dropped by my "extraordinary and superb" Cochin-China fowls, which by this time had got to be "the admiration of the State" (so the newspapers said). I had the _best_ fowls in this world, or in any other; this being conceded by every one who saw them, there was no necessity of "talking the subject up" to anybody. I charged _twelve_ dollars a dozen for my eggs--and never winked at it!

And why shouldn't I have the highest price? Were not my fowls the "choicest specimens" ever seen in America? Didn't everybody so declare?

Didn't the press and the poultry-books concede this, without an exception? Well, they did! And so, for months, I obtained one dollar each for my Cochin-China fowls' eggs; and I received order after order, and remittance after remittance, for eggs (at this figure), which I could not _begin_ to supply.

And I didn't laugh, either! I had no leisure to laugh. I filled the orders as they came,--"first come, first served,"--and for several months I found my list of promises six or eight weeks in advance of my ability to meet them with _genuine_ eggs.

I was not so well informed, then, as I was afterwards. I think all the eggs that were then wanted _might_ have been had. But, as the boy said, when asked where all the stolen peaches he had eaten were gone, "I donno!"

Will it be credited that, during the summer of 1850, I had dozens of full-grown men--gentlemen--but enthusiastic hen-fanciers (who had contracted the fever suddenly), who came to my residence for Cochin-China eggs, at one dollar each, and who, upon being informed that I hadn't one in the house, would quietly sit down in my parlor and wait two, three, or four hours at a time, _for the hens to lay them a few_, that they might take them away with them? Such is the fact, however it may be doubted.

I subsequently sold the eggs at ten dollars a dozen; then at six dollars; and finally, the third and fourth years, at five dollars. This paid me, because I sent off a great many.

But they didn't hatch well after having been transported away and shaken over in the hands of careless and ignorant or reckless express agents.

Thus the buyers came again. Many of the early fanciers tried this experiment over and over again, but with similar ill-success; and when they had expended ten, twenty, or thirty dollars, perhaps, for eggs, they would begin at the _beginning_ aright, and purchase a few chickens to rear, from which they could finally procure their own eggs, and go forward more successfully. But all this took time to bring it about.

And meanwhile _somebody_ (I don't say who) was "feathering a certain nest" as rapidly as a course of high-minded and honorable dealing with his fellow-men would permit.