When, at last, the young emigrants had filled their little crops, and become weary, the old hen gathered them under her wings. There is nothing in all nature more pleasing than a hen brooding her chickens. The little creatures themselves are marked with a singular smoothness, beauty and look of innocence. Those which are most weary bury themselves deep in the plumage of their mother’s breast, and here, cherished by a genial warmth, embedded in down, and every want and fear appeased, they fall to sleep. Those which are not yet so drowsy, peep out their heads from their mother’s feathers, and look around; or they linger outside and pick among the gravel for food; or they nibble at the old hen’s beak; or perchance they smooth some bit of their delicate plumage that is ruffled; or possibly climb up the old hen’s back. The look of innocence, peace and happiness displayed by the chickens, and the mingled aspect of care and content borne by Mistress Biddy, afford a touching and delightful picture. Who can witness it and not feel that the God of love is the author of what we call _nature_? All these things were noted by Jack, and after he had observed them a long time, he went for his aunt. He found her quite busy, but he could not be contented till she left her work and went with him to see the hen and her chickens. After looking at them a long time, they went to the house, and some days after the following conversation took place: _Jack._ Pray tell me, aunt Betsey, why the hen that has chickens always keeps _clucking_? _Aunt Betsey._ So that the chickens may always know where she is. The chickens are continually running about, and sometimes they go to a considerable distance, but as the hen is always clucking, they can at any time find her. But for this they would inevitably get lost. If the Creator had forgotten to teach hens to cluck, and had neglected to make any other adequate provision, a brood of chickens could never have been raised. _J._ Well, why do the chickens always keep peeping? _Aunt B._ So that the hen may know where they are. You will observe that if two or three chickens are wandering together, away from the hen, their peeping is usually faint and low; but if one is straying alone, his tones are loud and distinct. They seem to feel confidence when several are together, but if one is alone, he feels that it is necessary to speak out. The clucking of the hen may be considered as continually calling to her scattered brood, “Here I am, chicks――here I am,” and the peeping of the chickens may be considered as saying, “Here I am, mother――here am I.” In this way, a communication is kept up even while the brood is scattered over a wide space, in search of food. Almost all birds have natural cries, which answer the same purposes with them, as the clucking of the hens and the peeping of the chickens with these.