THE DAILY LIFE OF OUR FARM. 87 



nothing on his- feet but two pair of woollen socks, which 

 keep them dry and warm, a dodge he learnt in Canada. 



June, 1867. 



Well, it's over now ; but it was a sad job ! Two fine 

 bull-calves, one a rich roan, had to be taken away from 

 the Sir Charles Knightley's cow piecemeal, being locked 

 in an inextricable embrace. Luckily we have saved 

 the mother, but it is questionable whether she will be of 

 any use as a breeder again. So it is that, if disposed to 

 be sad, as I am now — having got up very early to finish 

 off some writing — one might exclaim with Moore, 



" Oh, ever thus from childhood's hour 



I've seen my fondest hopes de-caj. " 



* * * * 



** But when it came to know me well 

 And love me, it was sure to die.^' 



It is a bright sharp morniug, and the birds are very 

 busy arranging for the wedding. I see, however, that 

 a pair of starlings have taken violent possession of the 

 hole in the willow where our friend the nuthatch has 

 annually reared its youthful family. This cannot be 

 allowed ; but how to set matters straight is the ques- 

 tion, without shooting the enemy, which certainly must 

 not be done. We'll try what pulling out the cradle 

 continually will effect. 



I see my neighbour's hopeful returning from an early 

 walk with a victim in his mole-trap. He will not 

 believe me that the glossy little fellow could do him 

 any service, " Him was a mooting up the clover ; " and 

 now him will have to be skinned to make a purse for 

 our young acquaintance's occasional halfpenny. 



