HAPPY HOLLOW FARM 145 



cockleburs out of the brush of a cow's tail. 

 The first shake out of the box after we brought 

 the beasts home an angry neighbor had me in 

 town before a justice of the peace because my 

 goats had jumped the fence and eaten his 

 young apple orchard clear down to the ground. 

 Once, when they got out and wandered up to 

 the house, they ate up most of a bundle of red- 

 wood shingles. One of them ate the tail off a 

 Leghorn cockerel that Laura meant to exhibit 

 at the county fair; and another stole a sack of 

 tobacco from my hip pocket and ate it up, bag 

 and all. They ate all the bright red paint off 

 the wheels of a brand-new farm wagon. But 

 when it comes to staying decently in their pas- 

 ture and eating sprouts, they simply aren't 

 there. I've thought of hobbling them with ball 

 and chain, but most likely it wouldn't do any 

 good; they'd eat it off. I've read lately that 

 some genius has invented a jumpless goat, but 

 I don't believe it. That's one of the things 

 that's too good to be true. 



Do I seem to be jesting? Believe me, I'm 

 not jesting for the mere jest's sake. We've 

 fallen into the way of getting a laugh when- 

 ever we can out of our discomfitures, and I 

 don't mind telling you what we found to laugh 



