TO DANVIS FARM LIFE 



sects; some, little balls of down, keeping near the 

 home threshold and mindful of the maternal call, 

 while Chanticleer saunters proudly among his 

 wives and children with no care but to keep an 

 eye out for those swoopmg pirates, the hawks. 

 The ducks waddle away in Indian file to the pond 

 which they share with the geese; and the turkeys, 

 silliest of fowls, wander far and wide, an easy prey 

 to fox or hawk. 



Night and morning a persuasive call, "Boss! 

 boss! boss!" invites the calves — those soft-eyed, 

 sleek-coated, beautiful idiots — to the feeding 

 stanchion in the comer of their paddock, where 

 they receive their rations of " skim " milk and 

 then solace themselves with each other's ears for 

 the lost maternal udders. 



In the placid faces of their mothers, as they 

 come swinging homeward from the pasture, there 

 is no sign of bereavement nor of its lightest 

 recollection. Happy beasts whose pangs of sorrow 

 kindly Nature so quickly heals! 



In the last of the blossom-freighted days of 

 May is one that each year grows dearer to us. 

 There is scarcely a graveyard among our hills but 

 has its Uttle flag, guarding, in sun and shower, the 

 grave of some soldier. Hither come farmers and 

 villagers with evergreens and flowers, no one so 

 thoughtless that he does not bring a spray of plum- 

 blossoms or cluster of lilacs, no child so poor that 



