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Updated: May 20, 2025
When I asked her to let me help, she gave me hold, and we carried the bucket down the alley to a chicken-coop, where it had to be dumped, 'cause it was slops for the hens.
"And me kitchen," said Sundown, leading the way, "is Neeter's. She runs it. There's more good eats comes out of it than they is fancy crockery in it, which just suits me. And out here" and the party progressed to the back yard "is me new corral and stable and chicken-coop. I made all them improvements meself, durin' the winter.
Even the bark that once clung to the wood we use for fuel has been gnawed off and devoured by the captain's pig; and so long ago, too, that the pig himself has in turn been devoured. There is but one solitary tenant in the chicken-coop, once a gay and dapper young cock, bearing him so bravely among the coy hens.
The father brought him a cocoanut shell full, and before drinking Lumawig looked at it and said: "If I stay here with you, I shall become very strong." The next morning Lumawig asked to see their chickens, and when they opened the chicken-coop out came a hen and many little chicks. "Are these all of your chickens?" asked Lumawig; and the father assured him that they were all.
After the hunt was successfully over, the hunters came down to the front of the new, very new, administration building, already called the Wellesley Hencoop, where they were greeted by the ghosts and wraiths and other astral presentments of the vanished statues of College Hall, and where the roosters burst into an antiphonal chant: "Come see the Wellesley Chicken-coop, the Chicken-coop, the Chicken-coop.
The brief interval will perhaps be profitably employed in relating what progress I made in learning the duties of a sailor. After my heroic feat in loosing the main-skysail, the mate entertained good hopes of my becoming a rare mariner. In the fullness of his heart, he ordered me to turn over the superintendence of the chicken-coop to the Lancashire boy; which I did, very willingly.
Sometimes a weak cock-a-doodle-doo from a travelling chicken-coop announced the whereabouts of a helpless though still irrepressible rooster. Back yards had been visited, and oyster-cans, ash-barrels and unsightly kitchen debris brought to light. It was a mighty revolution where the dregs of society were no longer suppressed, but sailed in state on the top wave.
"We gets 'em into the ring, each in his own corner, squattin' on a bucket, the time-keeper bein' second to Hardenberg an' the referee being second to Strokher. An' then, after they has shuk hands, I climbs up on' the chicken-coop an' hollers 'Time' an' they begins.
I has ter watch mer own chicken-coop ter keep chick'ns 'nuff fer Sunday eatin'. I'll go en' git de w'eelborrow." Julius had a profound contempt for poor whites, and never let slip an opportunity for expressing it. He assumed that we shared this sentiment, while in fact our feeling toward this listless race was something entirely different.
He quit rolling up in his rabbit-skins and sleeping in the snow, and went to living in a chicken-coop. He lifted up his legs and quit walking and working, and took to existing on Martini cocktails and Scotch whiskey.
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