94 Old Bays on the Farm 



ing, I'd turn them loose to graze about the prairie 

 bluffs. Sometimes the team would be difficult to 

 find when the time came to resume work. I used 

 to attach a bell to the neck of one of my horned 

 "critters." After feeding for a time they'd 

 search out some secluded place in the long grass, 

 or in a chump of willows, and remain absolutely 

 motionless, so not the faintest tinkle of the bell 

 would be made. They'd endure the torments of 

 "bulldog" flies and mosquitoes rather than be- 

 tray their hiding-place. And yet some folks use 

 this expression, "the stolid ox." "The thought- 

 ful ox" sounds truer to me. 



WHEN THE BUTTER WOULDN'T "cOME" 



Now, what does a man know about butter-mak- 

 ing or butter, I hear some former dairymaid say. 

 All he knows is that it's to be spread on bread. 

 But stay, that's not so in the case of some men 

 and your humble servant is one of these. I kept 

 "bach" out West when it was referred to as "wild 

 and woolly," milked the gentle cow, skimmed the 

 cream, churned the churn and spanked the butter. 

 There now, haven't I a right to tell what I know 

 about dairying? 



Josh Billings raised a hill of cucumbers and 

 corn in his back yard and then wrote a book on 

 what he knew about farming ; Bill Nye helped herd 

 the potato-bug off the family patch when a boy, 

 and, later, delivered lectures on "My Experiences 



