Henry E. Dixey met a friend one afternoon on Broadway.
“Well, Henry,” exclaimed the friend, “you are looking fine! What do they feed you on?”
“Chicken mostly,” replied Dixey. “You see, I am rehearsing in a play where I am to be a thief, so, just by way of getting into training for the part I steal one of my own chickens every morning and have the cook broil it for me. I have accomplished the remarkable feat of eating thirty chickens in thirty consecutive days.”
“Great Scott!” exclaimed the friend. “Do you still like them?”
“Yes, I do,” replied Dixey; “and, what is better still, the chickens like me. Why they have got so when I sneak into the hen-house they all begin to cackle, ‘I wish I was in Dixey.’”
By Jones
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