California Agriculturist and Live Stock Journal, 



you cannot come in here alone without mon- 

 ey ?" 



Alas ! Minnie had forgotten, or was too 

 young to understaud, that money is power, 

 and is more necessary to make one's way 

 through the world than anything else. 



She was asked where her home was and 

 led to the returning car and sent back to 

 town. Heart-broken and almost crying aloud, 

 the little girl sadly took her seat and forgot 

 all about her fine clothes in her disappoint- 

 ment at not being allowed admittance into 

 her favorite resort. Woodward's Gardens. 



The car soon passed the corner where 

 Minnie lived, and the kind condnctor let her 

 out and smiled at the child's frankness in 

 acknowledging that she had no money or car 

 ticket. She stepped down and sheepishly 

 slipped into the house by the side gate. She 

 found the house in an uproar because Minnie 

 was gone, and when mamma espied the little 

 iigure entering the dining-room decked out 

 in borrowed finery, in spite of her anxiety 

 and annoyance, she threw herself backwards 

 upon the lounge and clasping her hands 

 laughed outright. 



Minnie stood on the threshold looking from 

 her mamma to nurse and then to the cook, 

 and never ventured to smile. Then, turning 

 on her heel, she lied upstairs, muttering to 

 henself, "cheated out of it this time, but the 

 first chance I get I'm going again, but I'll 

 take her pvirse next time and then nobody'U 

 know that I aint a lady; so there!" 



Letters From the Young Folks. 



Dear Uncle Ben: — Are you truly Uncle Ben 

 to all the boys and girls whoso fathers and 

 mothers take the Aqbiculturist? but you 

 can't be Uncle Ben to everybody, I guess, for 

 Johnny, a boy I know, says his Uncle Ned is 

 not uncle to anybody but him. I would not 

 be so mean if I was he, would you? And 

 what for do you ask us children to write you 

 a letter ? is it because you like children? 

 Haven't you got any of your own? If you 

 had I guess you would not care for any one 

 else's to bother you. . I cannot write very 

 good but mamma says I'm a master hand at 

 asking questions, and tire her out. How can 

 I help it, I should like to know. If folks 

 didn't ask questions how could they ever 

 know things that don't come in books. I 

 should never know anything, I do believe, 

 for I do not love to read very much. I sup- 

 pose that is because I always have to stop 

 and spell the big words, and that makes me 

 forget what it was all about. I don't know 

 how to write letters to anybody; but once our 

 girl got sister to write a letter to her mother 

 in Ireland and told her just what to say, and 

 it began this way — "I now take my pen in 

 hand to write to you," I thought that a 

 funny way to begin. Of course a body knows 

 that a letter written in ink must be written 

 with a pen in the hand. 



But I forgot what I was going to tell you 

 when I commenced this letter. First, I want 

 to tell you about a little girl I know named 

 Fanny, who has a little brother Jim. One 

 day they went out somewhere with their papa 

 and saw a little tiny man who was just like a 

 small boy cU'essed up in little men's clothes. 

 When Fanny came home she told her mother 

 about him like this: "And he had a little 

 coat and vest, and a little watch and chain, 

 and he had a little cane and a little stove-pipe 

 hat, and little boots and a little great coat, 

 and a cigar in his mouth. He was suck a 

 funny little man!" Then Jimmy came up and 

 said, " and he had a itty toat, and he had 

 itty pants, and he had itty boots on his feet, 



and he had a itty tane, and he had a itty hat 

 on lop of his head, and a shrc-pipc iti. Iiis 

 niuuf; such a funny itty man. Mammal" 

 How everybody laughed! I mean to get Fanny 

 to write to you some day, and tell you about 

 her littlo brother who makes us laugh so 

 much. 



I wonder if you are tall and slim, with 

 black beard like a shoebrush under your nose. 

 Maybe you are like Grandpa, without any 

 hair on your head or face except behind your 

 ears. I wish I could see you, for I do believe 

 you are real jolly and laugh all over when 

 you hear anything funny. I lilce jolly folks 

 who don't be cross to children. I often won- 

 der if some folks ever were little boys and 

 girls, they are so cross to little folks now. 

 But there's the dinner-bell so I miist run. Pa 

 says we must never be late to dinner, so good- 

 bye. From your niece you've never seen, 



Gekty W. 



Dear Uncle Ben: — I thought I would write 

 you a few lines about my home in Santa 

 Maria Valley and what we are doing. At pres- 

 ent I am out on vacation. I stay at home and 

 mother, and I run the ranch whie father is off 

 with his thresher. 



It would make you laugh to see me get on 

 the old mule to drive in the cows. We milk 

 eleven night and morning. But the funniest 

 part of all is to see me shoot gophers. The 

 first time I ever shot ofl' a gun I saw an old 

 gopher right in the middle of my flpwer-gar- 

 den. I went to the house and got the gun 

 and got all ready to shoot, when I thought it 

 might kick me over like it did father once ; 

 but then I did not care much, so I shut both 

 my eyes, commenced to shake, pulled the 

 trigger and shot the gopher. That gave me 

 courage to " try, try again," and I can shoot 

 them every time now. 



We have a few horses, cows, sheep and 

 hogs which are all pets. AVhen we go in 

 the field where they are they all come to us 

 to be petted. Sometimes wo will take no no- 

 tice of them just to see the fun. Then the 

 horses will commence to pull oxir clothes, the 

 cows will rub around and the sheep pull at 

 our fingers, and they will keep it up till we 

 pet them. 



We have a nice school-house down here, 

 and have good times when we go to school. 

 We have a paper in school. It is called the 

 Youth's Assistance and all the scholars write 

 for it. 



And now, Uncle Ben, you must please ex- 

 cuse bad writing, for although I am fourteen 

 I have not had the advantages of school that 

 city girls have had, and I know I am a very 

 poor writer. 



If Jewell had not had so many receipts for 

 making bread I should have sent her one, for 

 I can make good bread. 



Next month I hope my letter will be more 

 interesting, for I wlU have more time. 



Ella. 



Dear Uncle Bcn:^l heard the folks say 

 you would like little boys and girls to send 

 you letters to put in print in the Agkicultce- 

 IST. I have to herd the cattle in the field. 

 We have fourteen cattle and I have got a Ut- 

 ile saddle to ride with. I know two girls that 

 are afraid of a hen, but I am not a coward. I 

 can ride on horsebrck. We have got a little 

 kitten that climbs up on our clothes. I have 

 got a little writing-desk, and I am in the little 

 spelling-class. I have a little looking-glass, 

 too. At school I study pretty hard and never 

 play. I have a tin water-cart and I play with 

 the greyhound. We have a barn full of hay 

 and the hens lay eggs in it. Goodbye. 



E0OENE WOODHAMS. 



The Leading Breeds of Cattle. 



BEEF BEEED3 THE SHOBT-HOENS. 



^T is unnecesary to give any detailed ac- 

 count of the origin and history of these 

 celebrated cattle. Wherever beef is con- 

 sumed — and where is it not? — they have 

 played an important part in supplying 

 the wants of man. They are known from 

 one end of the country to the other as the 

 Koyal Family among cattle; and no breed 

 dares dispute with them their merited posi- 

 tion at the head of the list. The Short-horn 

 has been termed the rich man's breed; and at 

 present prices the "fancy" of his kind could 

 hardly become the property of a poor man 

 without bankrupting him. There is a mania 

 just now for Dukes and Duchesses, and mat- 

 ter-of-fact farmers are disposed to discover 

 something fishy about the immense prices 

 realized, at recent sales for members of this 

 family. 



There is no reason, however, why we should 

 mark a man a fool because, for reasons best 

 known to himself, he chooses to invest a largo 

 sum of money in a small amouut of beef. 

 He may have Ughts before him which have 

 not shone upon us; and although we may not 

 choose to go and do likewise, we have no 

 special interest in the matter, and can act 

 upon our own instincts. We cannot indulge 

 ourselves in such expensive luxuries as Duch- 

 esses and Dukes; but we can, .at a small out- 

 lay, replace every scrub bull that ranges the 

 prairies with a well-bred yearling or two-year- 

 old Short-horn. That will commence the era 

 of reform from the time he steps among the 

 herd. 



The natural home of the Short-horn is on 

 the rich grass lands of the West. Here he 

 thrives amazingly. At two years old he has 

 so waxed in strength and fatness that he is 

 prepared for the shambles, when the scrub- 

 stock of the country is lingering between 

 beef and veal. That is what we want— apti- 

 tude to carry flesh and early maturity. With- 

 out these no man can raise beef at a profit. 



The modern Short-horn is not a milker, al- 

 though descended from the most noted dairy 

 cows of the last century, Bree<lers have so 

 entirely lost sight of the dairy quahties of 

 the animal in the eflbrt to secure symmetry 

 of form and a ijropeusity to fatten, that it is 

 now customary, among many of them, to 

 "nurse" their calves on cows kept for the 

 purpose, the mother not being able to afford 

 suflicient nourishment. These, however, are 

 fancy notions which are not expected to meet 

 with much favor on the prairies; and bulls 

 selected as breeders for the farmers "out 

 West," would seldom have time to brush up 

 for exhibition at the fairs, and the dams of 

 their young ones would have no difficulty in 

 suckling them, being neither of aristocratic 

 lineage or delicate constitutions. The graz- 

 ing portions of the State should be well-sup- 

 plied with good Durh.im b'ood ; and if it could 

 be gradually accomplished without too vio- 

 lent an interference with the rights of indi- 

 viduals, we would favor the castration of all 

 the little pestiferous, ill-shapen Texas bulls 

 that dare attempt to repe.at themselves. 



HBKEFOEDS, 



As their name indicates, came from Hereford- 

 shire, England, and are the only prominent 

 rivals of the Shorthorns in size ai^d aptitude 

 to carry flesh. They are a large, long-horned 

 cattle of peculiar color, white about the face, 

 belly and legs, the rest of the body being 

 bright red. They have not succeeded in ex- 

 citing much enthusiasm in the United States, 

 though recent sales show that small herds 

 have been carried as far west as Colorado and 

 seem to meet with favor. Their admirers 

 give statistics to show that they have, in 

 many instances, competed successfully in the 



