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Updated: June 21, 2025
"Once upon a time it was the village fair week, when, as you know, every one eats and drinks as much as he possibly can, and consequently a great many animals are killed, the farmer's cook came into the fowlyard, and after carefully looking over all the chickens, remarked that seven of them would be twisting merrily on the spit next morning.
The China geese responded from their corner of the fowlyard, and amid the reveille of the poultry Hannah rose, crept stealthily to the table and extinguished the lamp.
'No; but he is so ugly and awkward no one can put up with him, answered the stranger. And though the duckling did not understand the meaning of the words, he felt he was being blamed, and became more uncomfortable still when the old Spanish duck who ruled the fowlyard struck in: 'It certainly is a great pity he is so different from these beautiful darlings.
The best of them considered themselves discharged if not of the debt, at least of the obligation of gratitude by the present of a hare they had killed, or a basket of eggs from their fowlyard, which they would come and offer to the banker on the day of the great fair of the year.
There was in this quiet fowlyard scene something so innocent, so peaceful, that it was inexpressibly soothing and attractive to the man who stood beneath the lilac boughs, jaded with unremitting study, and laden with wearying schemes of future labour.
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