122 BIRDS AND POETS 
could hardly have managed her “‘ High Tide” with- 
out ‘ Whitefoot” and “Lightfoot” and ‘Cusha! 
Cusha! Cusha! calling;” or Trowbridge his “ Even- 
ing at the Farm,” in which the real call of the 
American farm-boy of “‘Co’, boss! Co’, boss! Co’, 
Co’,” makes a very musical refrain. 
Tennyson’s charming ‘‘ Milking Song” is another 
flower of poesy that has sprung up in my divinity’s 
footsteps. 
What a variety of individualities a herd of cows 
presents when you have come to know them all, 
not only in form and color, but in manners and dis- 
position! Some are timid and awkward, and the 
butt of the whole herd. Some remind you of deer. 
Some have an expression in the face like certain 
persons you have known. <A petted and well-fed 
cow has a benevolent and gracious look; an ill- 
used and poorly-fed one, a pitiful and forlorn look. 
Some cows have a masculine or ox expression ; others 
are extremely feminine. ‘The latter are the ones for 
milk. Some cows will kick like a horse; some 
jump fences like deer. Every herd has its ring- 
leader, its unruly spirit, —one that plans all the 
mischief, and leads the rest through the fences into 
the grain or into the orchard. This one is usually 
quite different from the master spirit, the “boss of 
the yard.” The latter is generally the most peace- 
ful and law-abiding cow in the lot, and the least 
bullying and quarrelsome. But she is not to be 
trifled with; her will is law; the whole herd give 
way before her, those that have crossed horns with 
