THE FEVER WORKING.
About this time an ex-member of Congress, formerly from Pennsylvania,
was invited to deliver the address before one of the county agricultural
societies of that state (where the fever had now begun to spread with
alarming rapidity), who, in the course of his speech on that occasion,
delivered himself of the following pointed and forcible remark.
Speaking of poultry and the rare qualities of certain domestic fowls, he
said, "Ladies and gentlemen, next to a beautiful woman, and an honest
farmer, I deem a Shanghae cock the noblest work of God!"
Now, this expression might be looked upon, by some persons, as savoring
of demagogism, or, at the least, as an approach to "running this thing
into the ground" (or into the air); but the honorable gentleman no doubt
felt just what he said. I have seen many sensible men who felt worse
than this--a good deal--on this self-same subject; and who expressed
themselves much more warmly in regard to the characteristics and
beauties of domestic poultry; but, to be sure, it was _after_ they had
"gone through the mill," and had come out at the _small_ end of the
funnel.
In New England, especially, prior to the _second_ show of poultry in
Boston, the fever had got well up to "concert pitch;" and in New York
State "the people" were getting to be very comfortably interested in the
subject--where _my_ stock, by this time, had come to be pretty
extensively known.
The expenses attendant upon this part of the business, to wit, the
process of furnishing the requisite amount of information for "the
people" (on a subject of such manifestly great importance), the _quantum
sufficit_ in the way of drawings, pictures, advertisements, puffings,
etc., through the medium of the press, can be _imagined_, not described.
The cost of the drawings and engravings which I had executed for the
press, from time to time, during the years 1850, '51, '52, and '53,
exceeded over eight hundred dollars; but this, with the descriptions of
my "rare" stock (which I usually furnished the papers, accompanying the
cuts), was _my_ chosen mode of advertising. And I take this method
publicly to acknowledge my indebtedness to the press for the kindness
with which I was almost uniformly treated, while I was thus seriously
affected by the epidemic which destroyed so many older and graver men
than myself; though few who survived the attack "suffered" more
seriously than I did, during the course of the fever. For instance, the
large picture of the fowls which I had the pleasure of sending to Her
Majesty Queen Victoria (in 1852), and which appeared in _Gleason's
Pictorial_, the _New York Spirit of the Times_, _New England
Cultivator_, &c., cost me, for the original drawing, engraving,
electrotyping, and duplicating, _eighty-three dollars_.
All these expenses were cheerfully paid, however, because I found my
reward in the consciousness that I performed the duty I owed to my
fellow-men, by thus aiding (in my humble way) in disseminating the
information which "the people" were at that time so ravenously in search
of, namely, as to the person of whom they could obtain (without regard
to price) the _best_ fowls in the country.
This was what "the people" wanted; and thus the malady extended far and
wide, and when the fall of 1850 arrived, buyers had got to be as plenty
as blackberries in August, whilst sellers "of reputation" were, like the
visits of angels, few and far between. _I_ was, by this time, considered
"one of 'em." I strove, however, to carry my honors with Christian
meekness and forbearance, and with that becoming consideration for the
wants and the wishes of my fellow-men that rendered myself and my
"purely-bred stock" so universally popular.
Ah! when I look back on the past,--when I reflect upon the noble
generosity and disinterestedness that characterized all my transactions
at that flush period,--when I think of what I did for "the cause," and
how liberally I was rewarded for my candor, my honesty of purpose, and
my disingenuousness,--tears of gratitude and wonder rush to my eyes, and
my overcharged heart only finds its solace by turning to my ledger and
reading over, again and again, the list of prices that were then paid me
by "the people," week after week, and month after month, for my
"magnificent samples" of "pure-bred" Cochin-China chickens, the original
of which I had imported, and which were _said_ to have been bred from
the stock of the Queen of Great Britain.
But, the Mutual Admiration----I mean, the "Society" whose name was like
"Lengthened sweetness, long drawn out,"
was about to hold its second annual exhibition; and, as the number of
its members had largely increased, and as each and all of those who
pulled the wires of this concern (while at the same time they were
pulling the wool over the eyes of "the people") had plans of their own
in reference to details, I made up my mind, although I felt big enough
to stand up even in this huge hornet's nest of competition, to have
things to suit _my_ "notions."
I _now_ had fowls to sell! I had raised a large quantity of chickens;
winter was approaching, corn was high, they required shelter, the _roup_
had destroyed scores of fowls for my neighbors, and I didn't care to
winter over three or four hundred of these "splendid" and "mammoth"
specimens of ornithology, each one of which could very cleverly dispose
of more grain, in the same number of months, than would serve to keep
one of my heifers in tolerable trim.
Such restrictions were proposed by the officers of the Society with the
lengthened cognomen, that my naturally democratic disposition revolted
against the arbitrary measures talked of, and I resolved to get up an
exhibition of my own, where this matter could be talked over at leisure,
and which I did not doubt would "turn an honest penny" into my own
pocket; where, though I had done _well_ thus far, there was still room,
as there was in hungry Oliver Twist's belly, for "more."
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