THE RED COW 



was forced either to drink it or inhale it. One could 

 hardly treat a Cabinet Minister in that way, much 

 as he would like to. But to our calf. Once more 

 the lesson has been forced on me that when feeding a 

 calf one should not be arrayed in the glory of Solo- 

 mon, or in other words that he should not wear the 

 clothes he wore to the city especially if he ever ex- 

 pects to wear them there again. Even a commodious 

 pair of overalls is not a sufficient protection. The 

 boy who was hovering on the outskirts of the trou- 

 ble and pretending to help was properly dressed for 

 the occasion in a three-piece suit — shirt, pants, and 

 one suspender. When that calf gave a sporadic 

 bunt that squirted milk into my eye and variously 

 plastered me, I wanted to give him a six months' 

 hoist with the toe of my boot, but I restrained my- 

 self. (You will notice that Parliamentary phrases 

 stick in my vocabulary after a visit to Ottawa.) 

 However, I am glad to report that the calf is now 

 so much subdued that the boy in the three-piece suit 

 is able to attend to him. 



