THE DAILY LIFE OF OUR FAEM. 95 



ogg. Whether the bird was pleased with the attention 

 paid it, and wished to gratify its mistress, or happened 

 to be caught at the right moment, I cannot say ; only 

 what did actually happen, as a faithful historian, I 

 record. 



"I'll bet all papa's Shorthorns," uttered in a most 

 indignant tone, was an exclamation that startled me 

 the other morning as I descended from my dressing- 

 room. "And pray what are you going to bet my Short- 

 horns for?" "Oh! papa, only that I could lace my 

 own boots ever since I was five years old." The fact 

 was, there were a pair of them busy putting on their 

 boots, seated on the lowest step of the staircase ; and 

 upon our young French friend declaring that he must 

 go and get his laced by the housemaid, who pets him, 

 he got rebuked as above by his more independent 

 sister. 



To go on with Shorthorns, however, there was much 

 food for instructive reflection at the sale to which. I 

 referred. The herd, numbering some fifty head, con- 

 sisted of very various elements. There were old cows 

 of great value, but very different in appearance, which 

 had been picked up at long figures at some of the cele- 

 brated north-country sales, and which this day the 

 representatives of very eminent breeders had travelled 

 many hundred miles to recover, at whatever cost. 

 There was a grand red bull, bred in Yorkshire, oi 

 wonderful style and quality, and meat to the hocks, 

 with the very important defect, however, of being 

 rather short-quartered and high over the tail — a defect 

 inherited by almost every one of his stock, which is 

 one proof more, if such were needed, of the impres- 

 siveness, as regards likeness, of long-descended cattle, 



