The Troubles of Biddy A pretty little story

Excerpt

The Troubles
of Biddy

"Oh dear," sighed old Biddy, just under her breath,
"I really am troubled and worried to death!
For months I have thought of a family, dear,
To gladden my heart, and to live with me here.
"But daily I find that my plans are upset,
And all I can do is to sit here and fret—
I haven't a sign of an egg in my nest,
Though some I have laid are as good as the best.
"I scolded last night when my mistress came near,
But though she was bitten, she seemed not to fear;
She only said, 'Biddy, what are you about?'
And then through the doorway she simply passed out.

"I don't understand it; I cannot see why;
For surely to be a good mother I'd try;
Although I would see that they did as I said!"
And Biddy, in sorrow and grief hung her head.

So deep was the longing of poor Biddy's heart,
She felt that with life she was ready to part;
But glancing about in her trouble and pain
She saw that her mistress was coming again;

And noting the basket she held in her hand
Old Biddy thought quickly "she can't understand,"
And "what is she doing?" exclaimed in surprise;
For out of the nest Biddy felt herself rise.
As Biddy stood resting her poor weary legs,
She saw that the basket contained shining eggs;
And mistress with care placed them all in the nest
For Biddy to snuggle beneath her warm breast.
Now Biddy was happy; her burden was gone,
Her troubles had vanished, she felt she had none:
And, planning away in her little straw bed,
No thoughts of complaining came into her head.

She looked from the window each morning at dawn,
And pictures of rapture were constantly drawn,
For, out on the lawn near a little old shed,
Were dishes and troughs where the chickens were fed.
And Biddy thought wisely, "These things I shall use;
The largest and neatest are what I shall choose."
But never a thought did this wise mother take
Of danger, or trouble, in St. Mary's lake.
How happy she was when the first sounds were heard,
And the bright downy heads her soft feathers stirred!
"But what is the matter with each little nose?"
She said in amazement, "And what ails their toes?"

"They are not like chickens at all, I am sure!
I wonder whatever such strange things will cure?"
And Biddy once more was in trouble most deep;
For none of her children could really say peep.

"I think that my babes for a walk ought to go;"
One morning said Biddy, "I'll lead them just so;
I'll watch every minute lest danger arise:
For they'll not be safe when from under my eyes."

At the word every downy ball hustled about,
And ere Biddy knew it, they all had jumped out
Of the nest, and were darting about in the sun,
For bugs, and for grass blades, and simply for fun.
Biddy watched for a time and then softly said,
"I ought to be dusting my feathers and head;"
So off to the roadside she hastily went,
And there in the soft sand, a few moments spent.

What was it made Biddy's heart quiver and leap?
It wasn't the sound of a young chicken's peep—
But the splashing of water and flutt'ring of wings—
And leaving the road side she screamed, "Of all things!"
Her babies were all in the watering trough,
Regardless of sickness, disease, and of cough....