Strut was the name of a hen that lived on Father Nunn's farm, nine miles from Norwalk, Ohio. She was very vain; that is, she had a very good opinion of herself. She always would strut when walking. Indeed, it was hard for her to pick up grains of corn as other chickens did. I think she never saw her feet in her life: certainly she never looked where she stepped. Worse than all this, when she saw any person in the yard, instead of dodging away, as a modest hen should, she would strut right up to such a person, and look saucily in his face, as though asking, "Who are you? Where are you going? What for?" At last, however, Strut received a severe rebuke for her evil ways. Cousin William Bird, who is soon to be a doctor, was visiting at Father Nunn's. Having occasion to climb Sure enough, Strut started for Cousin William, and, stepping off the edge of the hole, fell fluttering, cackling, and frightened, to the floor beneath. She was humbled by her fall; for she never strutted again, but walked and ate afterwards like other chickens. Uncle Joe. Divider
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