eight in the morning
Yesterday I heard her tell-tale note about noon , and the day before just as I was eating my breakfast . I knew that it would be so ! The serpent has entered Eden . That fowl has laid before eight in the morning for three weeks without interruption , and she has now entered upon a career of wild and reckless uncertainty which compels me to eat eggs from twelve to twenty-four hours old , just as if I were in London . Alas for the rarity Of regularity Under the sun ! A hen , being of the feminine gender , underestimates the majesty of order and system ; she resents any approach to the unimaginative monotony of the machine . Probably the Confederated Fowl Union has been meddling with our little paradise where Labour and Capital have dwelt in heavenly unity until now .