Rensselaer Journal, Volume 11, Number 37, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 20 February 1902 — FOR THE LITTLE ONES. [ARTICLE]

FOR THE LITTLE ONES.

What Happened to the Chick That Tried to Go It, Alone. “Cluck, cluck!” said Mother Hen, calling very loudly to her little ones, for it was getting dark and the nights were cold. It was quite time for her large family to go straight to bed. Very obediently the little chicks came running to her call and snuggled up under her wings. There were ten of them altogether, but Mother Hen only counted nine. “Why, where’s Pecky?” she said. “What a naughty child she is! She never will go to bed when she’s called.” “If you please, mother,” said Tawny, the eldest of the chicks, who was always sent out to mind the others, “Pecky heard you call, but she wouldn’t come. She said she was growing up and it was too early to go to bed.” “Oh, did she!" said Mother Hen. “Well, let her be. She will soon be frightened at being out alone.” But Pecky was in no hurry. She marched up and down the farmyard very independently and took no notice at all of her mother’s calls. “Ridiculous,” she said. “Why, it’s quite light. Any one would think I was a baby a few days old. I shall go for a stroll and see how my friends the ducklings are.” But when Pecky came to the duck pond she found it was quite deserted, and a muffled quack from a neighboring house told her that all the little ducks, too, had gone to bed. “They certainly are a lot of sleepy heads,” said Pecky. “Oh, well, I must enjoy myself alone. I expect I shall catch it, but it’s absurd of mother to think I must obey her at my age. I’m going to do just as I like.” ' But Pecky had forgotten all her mother’s warnings about the enemies that might lurk about, and just as she turned the corner by the barn an enormous old rat in search of a meal came dashing out. Oh, poor Pecky! You can guess what happened to her, for her mother never saw her again. And this was all through being disobedient.