92 THE DAILY LIFE OF OUR FARM. 



fat gardener attributes it to some frost he recollects. 

 I see some authorities write of whole plantations dying 

 off, and attribute it to "an electrical or pestilential 

 blast." It must have been the comet, I conclude. I 

 wish he'd fold his tail a little closer the next time he 

 approaches our earth. By the way, what can be the 

 language of the brutes ? Last week the young temers 

 had two joints each severed from their tail point. The 

 first one operated on yelped a wee trifle as he felt 

 the incision, but sadly, as the executioner applied a 

 touch of lunar caustic to help the healing of the 

 wound. The next brother tightly folded his tail be- 

 tween his legs underneath him on being brought 

 out, as the schoolboy spreads his hands to protect the 

 threatened part, having evidently learnt from his 

 brother's voice what was going on. He was pluckier 

 during the pruning, but winced and wailed under the 

 application of the caustic, kindly meant as was the 

 dressing on our part. 



Puppy number three was yet more enduring, and 

 only " weeked " once as the lunar was appreciated. 

 The nursery was horror-struck at the mutilation, and 

 stood aghast at the man's recital of the agonies en- 

 dured, which our careful bailiff judiciously enlarged 

 upon as being the fate, in one way or another, of all 

 naughty children. 



Another wrinkle for me, which, as it comes from my 

 better half, I am evidently bound to believe. The room 

 is deliciously perfumed with the lemon scent of a coro- 

 nella, of which I have despoiled the green-house show. 

 Moved to my room, I found it disappoint me in the 

 paucity of its fragi-ance. I concluded that it was vexed 

 by its transportation from its bright garden abode to 



