CHICKEN ON THE BRAIN.

Globe, Volume VII, Issue 700, 16 September 1876, Page 3

CHICKEN ON THE BRAIN.

Near Erie there lives a coloured person by the name of James Stewart, whom the community, by common consent, have dubbed Commodore Stewart. He is a talented but eccentric individual, and has a weakness for chickens. On one occasion, being found near a poultry-yard under suspicious circumstances, he was interrogated rather sharply by the owner of the premises, as follows : • Well, Jim, what are you doing here ?' 'Oh, nuffin, nuffin, jess walkin' roun'.' ' What do you want with my chickens ?' ' Nuffin at all. I was only lookin' at 'em, day looks so nice.'

This answer was both conciliatory and conclusive, and would have been satisfactory had it not been for Jim's hat. This was a rather Avorn soft felt, a good deal too large for its wearer's head; and it seemed to have a motion entirely unusual in hats, and manifestly due to some remarkable cause. It seemed to contract and expand and move of itself, and clearly without Jim's volition. So the next inquiry was—- ' What is the matter with your hat ?' 'My hat ? Bat's an ole hat. I'se fond of dat hat.'

'Well, take it off and let's look at it.' ' Take off dis hat 1 No, sah. I'd ketch cold in my head, sartin. Always keep my hat on when I'm out o' doors.'

And with that Jim was about beating a hasty retreat, when, at his first step, a low ' kluk, kluk, kluk' was heard coming only too clearly from the region of his head-gear. This was fatal, and Jim was stopped and forced to remove his hat, when a plump, half-grown chicken jumped out and ran hastily away. The air with which the culprit gazed after it was a study for a painter ; it expressed to a perfection wonder and perplexity blended, but not a trace of guilt. Slowly he spoke, as though explaining the matter to himself, and accounting for so remarkable an incident.

' Well, if dat ain't de funniest ting I ebber did see. Why, dat dar chicken must have clum up de leg of my pantaloons.'