34 THE DAILY LIFE OF OUR FARM. 



witli white faces are good cows, darling ; only pappy- 

 had the shorthorns first, and doesn't care to chanofe." 

 So it is that the shorthorn obtains precedence among 

 the uninitiated by its variety of tint and shape. And 

 (a partial witness) I say no wonder. I have just been 

 through my sheds, and return with a sense of pleasure 

 that is only saddened by recollection of the dreaded 

 rinderpest. What lovely little things the calves are — 

 red, white, blue-roan — clustered picturesquely together 

 as a bed of tulips ! There is but one drawback. Would 

 that they were alvvays calves and yearlings, and never 

 grew to that advanced matronhood when in ordinary 

 breeding condition it requires more than the eye of the 

 passer-by to appreciate their points of beauty. But 

 our further discussion of cattle we must defer until at 

 least our next instalment. 



And here's the bailiff come for orders for to-morrow. 

 Why, really, I don't know what to say. Only Monday 

 last, it was so spring-like ; the air so warm, the sun so 

 bright, and the birds quite lively with their songs in 

 every thicket. But there are symptoms of renewed 

 bad weather, for listen how the wind howls already at 

 twilight through the trees ; and j ust now, as I cantered 

 home from my distant farm, I could not but note an 

 angry ripple rushing up the stream in foam, and a 

 tempestuous period only can be meant by that lovely 

 background of lemon-tint, which throws into such bold 

 relief the crest of pines upon yonder distant ridge of 

 hills. " Well, then, suppose you thrash out the barley 

 in the barn to-morrow : get the machine oiled early, 

 and I'll be down to look on." [Exit bailiff.] 



And now there's no good fretting, and in the supper 

 distance there is a delicious dish of richly-embrowned 



