106 MY FARM. 



have no more claim upon the maternal instincts of 

 the elder animals, than the drovers themselves. It is 

 sill a bald fiction ; the true offspring have gone to the 

 butchers months ago ; and if the poor, surcharged 

 brutes accept of the offices of the little staggering 

 foundlings, it is with a weary poke of the head, that 

 is damning to the brutality of the drovers. 



It would be too much to say that I have never 

 been deceived by these people ; too much to say that 

 honest old gentlemen of innocent proclivities did never 

 pass upon me certain venerable animals, with the tell 

 tale wrinkles rasped out of their horns. One of this 

 class, of a really creditable figure, high hip bones, 

 heavy quarters, well marked milk veins, I was incau 

 tious enough to test by a glance into her mouth. 

 Not a tooth in her old head ! 



I looked accusingly at the rural owner, who was 

 quietly cutting a notch in the top rail of his fence. 



&quot; Waal, yes kinder rubbed off; but she bites 

 pooty well with her gooms.&quot; 



Among the early purchases, and among the ani 

 mals that promised well, was a dun cow, which it was 

 found necessary, after a few weeks of full feeding, to 

 cumber with a complicated piece of neck furniture, to 

 forbid her filching surreptitiously what properly be 

 longed to the pail. Self-milkers are not profitable. I 

 have faith in the doctrine of rotation, and the quick 



