"Poietes. No one can be less disposed than I am to limit the powers of living nature, or to doubt the capabilities of organised structures; but it does appear to me quite a dream to suppose that a fish, pricked by the hook of the artificial fly, should transmit a dread of it to its offspring, though it does not long retain the memory of it himself.

"Halieus.-There are instances quite as extraordinary -but I will not dwell upon them, as I am not quite sure of the fact which we are discussing; I have made a guess only, and we must observe more minutely to establish it; it may be even as you suppose-a mere dream." (Pp. 221-2). At any rate, it is neither a dream nor a guess with young Turkey-chicks, to which we will now return. A sitting of wild Turkey's eggs does not often fall into the hands of an American gamekeeper, if such a person there be, but I am afraid he would find his brood more shy and troublesome than the shyest of Partridges or Pheasants.

The Turkeys, then, are hatched, and we are rearing them. Abundant food for the mother and her young, constant attention to their wants, are the grand desiderata. An open glade in a grove, with long grass and shrubs here and there, is the best possible location. A great deal is said about clear and fresh water for fowls; but I have observed that if left to their own choice, they will be as content and healthy with the rinsings of the scullery, or the muddiest pool, as with the purest spring. The long grass will afford them cover from birds of prey; the hen will herself drive off four-footed enemies with great courage. I have been amused with the fury with which a mother Turkey has pursued a squirrel, till it took refuge in the branches overhead: what instinctive fear urged her I know not. Insects, too, will abound in such a situation. When the little creatures are three or four days old, they will watch each fly that alights on a neighbouring flower, fix it with mesmeric intensity, and by slow approach often succeed in their final rush. But in the best position

you can station them, forget them not for one hour in the day. If you do, the little Turkeys will for a time loudly yelp "Ricordati di me," "O then remember me," in notes less melodious than those of a prima donna, and then they will be sulky and silent. When you at length bring their delayed meal, some will eat, some will not. Those that will not, can only be saved by a method at all other times unjustifiable; namely, by cramming: but it must be done most gently. The soft crumb of bread rolled into miniature sausages should be introduced till their crops are full. For drink, many would give wine. I advise milk. The bird wants material, not stimulant. It has been actually wire-drawn. It has grown all the hours you have neglected it, without anything to grow from. Like a young plant in the fine spring season, it will and must grow; but it has no roots in the fertile earth to obtain incessant nourishment. The roots which supply its growth are in its stomach, which it is your office to replenish. Prevention is better than cure. Such a case ought never to occur in a well cared-for poultry-yard.

Young Turkies are sometimes attacked by Fasciolæ, or worms in the trachea, but not so often as chickens. Cramp is the most fatal to them, particularly in bad weather. A few pieces of board, laid under and about the coop, are useful: sometimes rubbing the legs with spirit will bring the circulation back again.

When two hens hatch at or near the same time, the two broods may be given to one mother, and the other hen turned out to range. If kept from the sound and sight of her little ones for a few days, she will not pine like the common Hen, but will shortly recommence laying, and so produce a later hatch that will be very acceptable the following February and March. Sometimes two hens will choose to sit and lay in the same nest, like the wild birds mentioned by Audubon ; but it is better not permitted. They will not quarrel, but alternately steal each other's eggs, and run the chance of addling all. A

frequent practice is to hatch spare Turkeys' eggs under common Hens. This answers well in fine dry summers, but not in wet cold seasons. The Turkey-poults require to be brooded much longer than chickens ; the poor Hen will be seen vainly endeavouring to shelter and warm young Turkeys nearly as big as herself, till she gives up the task in despair, and leaves them to shift for themselves. It is better to transfer the chicks as soon as hatched to a Turkey, and give the Hen some Fowls' eggs to go on with another three weeks. The improved and less rambling disposition of Turkeys that have been reared by a Hen is, unfortunately, all imagination, notwithstanding what Cobbett has so beautifully written on the subject. There may now and then occur an occasional apparent exception, before the real innate propensities of the bird have had time to manifest themselves. But the instinct of the Turkey is no more altered by this mode of education than the migrations of the Cuckoo are checked by its being brought up by a Hedge-Sparrow. The only way to keep Turkeys from rambling, is to feed them well and regularly at home.

The time when the Turkey-hen may be allowed full liberty with her brood, depends so much on season, situation, &c., that it must be left to the exercise of the keeper's judgment. Some, whose opinion is worthy of attention, think that if the young are thriving, the sooner the old ones are out with them the better, after the first ten days or so. A safer rule may be fixed at the season called "shooting the red," a "disease," as some compilers are pleased to term it; being about as much a disease as when the eldest son of the Turkey's master and mistress shoots his beard. When young Turkeys approach the size of a Partridge, or before, the granular fleshy excrescences on the head and neck begin to appear; soon after, the whole plumage, particularly the tail feathers, start into rapid growth, and the "disease" is only to be counteracted by liberal nourishment. If let loose at this time they will obtain much by foraging, and

still be thankful for all you choose to give them. Caraway seeds, as a tonic, are a great secret with some professional people. They will doubtless be beneficial, if added to plenty of barley, boiled potatoes, chopped vegetables, and refuse meat. And now is the time that Turkeys begin to be troublesome and voracious. What can you expect else from a creature that is to grow from the size of a lark to twelve or fourteen lbs. in eight or nine months? "Corn sacks, coffers for oats, barnswallowers, ill neighbours to peasen," are epithets deservedly earned. They will jump into the potato ground, scratch the ridges on one side, eat every grub, wireworm, or beetle that they find, and every half-grown potato. From thence they will proceed to the Swedes; before the bulbs are formed they will strip the green from the leaves, thereby checking the subsequent growth of the root. At a subsequent period they will do the same to the white turnips, and here and there take a piece out of the turnip itself. They are seldom large enough before harvest to make so much havoc among the standing corn, as Cocks and Hens and Guinea-fowl, or they have not yet acquired the taste for it; but when the young wheat comes up in October and November they will exhibit their graminivorous propensities, to the great disadvantage of the farmer. The farmer's wife sees them not, says nothing, but at Christmas boasts of the large amount of her Turkey-money. One great merit in old birds (besides their ornamental value, which is our special recommendation) is, that in situations where nuts, acorns, and mast are to be had, they will lead off their brood to these, and comparatively (that is all) abstain from ravaging other crops. It is, therefore, not fair for a small occupier to be overstocked with Turkeys (as is too often the case, and with other things also), and then to let them loose, like so many harpies, to devastate and plunder their neighbours' fields.

Soon after Michaelmas, it will be time to think of fatting a portion of them. Some families require Turkeys

very early in the season; but they are like every other immature production, inferior in quality. To eat Turkeypoults is a wasteful piece of luxury; those who order them are occasionally deceived by a small hen of the previous year. In the Roman markets hen Turkeys sell for a bajocco (halfpenny) a pound more than the cock; and there are Turkey-butchers of whom you may buy the half or a quarter of a bird. A hen will be five or six weeks in fatting a large stag, two months or longer, to bring him to his full weight. The

best diet is barley-meal mixed with water, given in troughs (see fig.), that have a flat board over them, to keep dirt from falling in. A

turnip with the leaves attached, or a hearted cabbage, may now and then be thrown down to amuse them. Some use plain oats, but barley-meal is preferable, acting more quickly. Cramming is unnecessary, though it may hasten the progress. In some parks, where there are immense quantities of mast, Turkies will get perfectly fat upon them; but this, although no doubt profitable to the gudewife, is by no means pleasant to every palate after the bird has been on the spit. Beech-mast, however, in small quantities, and as the substratum of fatting, rather improves the flavour than otherwise. The windfalls and gleanings of hazel-nuts, which they swallow whole, do not come amiss. When they have arrived at the desired degree of fatness, those which are not wanted for immediate use must have no more food given them than is just sufficient to keep them in that state, otherwise the flesh will become red and inflamed, and of course less palatable and wholesome. But with the very best management, after having attained their acmè of fatting, they will frequently descend again, and that so quickly, and without apparent cause, as to become quite thin. Cock-birds play this game oftener than hens. Turkey differs from the rest of our poultry in being fit for the table after its youth is past. Very few of the large

The