“Papa” is now the name of our college rooster, his hereditary name, however, having been the “Duke of Wellington,” since he always claimed that he descended from renowned English stock. Be all that as it may, he is a handsome bird of portly proportions and of deep orange and golden plumage. He sports a superb mural crown and has brilliant eyes ever on the watch for the welfare of his numerous family of wives and children. Altogether he is a domestic hero and steps as proudly as ever Hector trod the plains of ancient Troy, while his clarion voice wakes the morning echoes for miles around. Now, the reason why our big rooster is called Papa springs from quite a novel circumstance all his own and which has been for some time the town talk among the Four Hundred of our poultry social circles. The curious affair was strictly in this wise: Late last fall, or, to be more definite, about the middle of November, one of our little hens, “Biddy the Bantam,” stole her nest, as old housewives would put it, in the adjoining thicket, and in the fullness of time brought off an even dozen as bright, cherry chicks as ever gladdened the heart of a mother partlet. As soon as the chickens could nimbly walk the provident hen led them to the rear of the college kitchen to be properly fed. Now it may suffice to enhance the interest of our story and perhaps make several points more clearly understood by the casual reader to say, or rather to delicately intimate, sub rosa, of course, that Biddy the Bantam was not the real mother pure and simple of all the chickens she had so industriously hatched and brought off her fern embowered nest. As it often happens in the best regulated poultry yards, several other and bigger hens had smuggled their own eggs into Biddy’s nest; a fact which would certainly have been a foregone conclusion in a few days from the difference in size of the chickens if for no other reason. I am sorry to say, however, that when the truth leaked out it was an every day scandal from one end of the poultry yard to the other. But Biddy the Bantam, like the brave little mother she was, pondered these things in her heart, lived down the wicked calumny and raised her family despite the alleged illegitimacy of three or four of the longer legged youngsters. It was determined by the college authorities that everything should be done for the comfort of the rather untimely brood notwithstanding the lateness of the season and the threatened cold weather. To this end mother and chicks were put into a nice warm dry goods box with plenty of soft hay for a bed, and the whole establishment placed under the south veranda of our main building.