CHAPTER XXXII.

A "CONFIDENCE" MAN.

Towards the close of this show in New York, a somewhat noted cattle-breeder (who was then absent in England) wrote home to an agent in this country, directing him to secure all the Grey Shanghaes obtainable, and further to contract for the raising of hundreds or thousands more, to be delivered during the following season.

At this late day, such an undertaking appeared (to the initiated) to exhibit a most extraordinary confidence in the reality of the hen-trade; but, to those who "had been there," it was very amusing to witness the new-born zeal of this curiously verdant purchaser, who invested so large an amount of money, in 1854, in this hum!

The most extravagant prices were paid by this person for Grey fowls, and large orders were given by the agent, to different breeders, in New England, for future supplies. Several hundred birds were then purchased, at rates varying from four or five dollars to fifty dollars _each_; and finally some twenty cages were filled, and consigned to London, to be disposed of (as it was supposed) at enormous figures.

This speculation was a total failure. The fowls were inferior, and sick, and worthless. An auction sale followed quickly upon their arrival in England, the proceeds of which failed to pay even their freight and expenses out from this country; and the "confidential" proprietor of the stock, who had not the slightest conception of the details of the trade, was the loser of hundreds of dollars by this foolish and reckless undertaking.

But his contracts with home breeders, who had raised for him one hundred, three hundred, or five hundred pairs of chickens, each, were yet in _statu quo_! Two or three thousand Grey chickens were awaiting this confident gentleman's orders, and in the mean time were devouring huge quantities of corn and meal, then ranging at from a dollar to a dollar and ten cents a bushel!

Sales were merely nominal; buyers of fancy fowls were _no_whar; grain continued on the rise; the chickens grew longer in the legs and necks, and devoured more corn than ever; cold weather approached, and the breeders had no conveniences for housing these thousands of monsters; and finally the victims became importunate.

The contractor didn't want the fowls. Of course he didn't. He had "put his foot into it" with a vengeance! But the parties who had raised these birds "to order" insisted upon the fulfilment of the contractor's promise to take them, at four, six and eight months old.

But the confident gentleman, who, in the spring of 1854, had made up his mind that the "hen fever had but just then made its appearance, in fact," _now_ discovered that the bottom had been shaky for a twelvemonth, at the least, and had at length fallen out altogether!

The folly of this enterprise was apparent to every fowl-raiser in New England, from the outset. But this man knew what he was about,--so he declared,--and he scouted the advice of those who, from long experience, were able to instruct and advise him better. It was but a single instance of its kind, however, and it served, for the time being, to aid in keeping up the excitement of the humbug which had cost so many men before him large sums of money, and months of labor and care, without the slightest subsequent compensation.

By the fall of 1854, the price of this "fancy stock" began to approximate towards its intrinsic level, somewhat, in consequence of its being thus overdone; and very fair birds were offered for five to seven dollars the pair, with but few purchasers.

In England, the fever had subsided. During the spring and summer, my own sales for that market had been continuously, and without any abatement, extremely liberal; but the prospect suddenly became clouded--the demand fell off--and I saw that the gate was about to be shut down.

The jig was nearly up, evidently, in December, 1854. In all the suburban towns of this state, and more especially throughout the entire length and breadth of Rhode Island and Connecticut, immense numbers of the Chinese varieties of fowls were being bred; and I saw, months before, that the market must of necessity be glutted, to the full, in the winter that was then approaching. Many of the experienced fanciers still clung to the hope that the trade would rally again, however,--but I was satisfied that the engine-bell had rung for the last time, and that the train was already now on the move.