158 THE DAILY LIFE OF OUR FARM. 



and we found — what, I wonder? Why, no more, no 

 less, than simply a death-watch beetle. 



Heresy and insubordination in the camp ! " You 

 must indeed tell us when the calf is going to be killed, 

 poor dear little thing. It is so tame and so pretty," 

 with an air of coy indignation our eldest bom little 

 girl remonstrated, sitting up in her cot, as I went to 

 give her the regular good-night kiss. " Such a sweet," 

 coaxingly added another little puss, also leaning out 

 from behind her curtain with a remonstrativeness of 

 pouted lip that was pretty to behold. " I declare I 

 won't touch veal for ever so long," said her sister in 

 chorus. This was all in reference to a fawn-tinted 

 gazelle-eyed Alderney calf that was unfortunately born 

 of the masculine gender, and had consequently to make 

 way for cream and butter. As if they hadn't quite 

 enough of pets already ! enough forsooth to ruin any 

 farmer. There's the old faithful canter-on-three-legs 

 Breadalbane terrier, with three fat long-tailed puppies 

 in her wake, as slow-paced as herself There are no 

 end of bantams, although ultimately I had to send all 

 the poultry from the stable premises to the bailiff's 

 wife at the farm, as the poor hens prone to incubation 

 had been frequently left to their fruitless sitting with- 

 out even an egg under them, \mtil it was difficult to 

 say which were the barest, their hapless bosom or the 

 board that served them in lieu of nest. Talk of the 

 discomfort and attaching agonies of a seat in Parlia- 

 ment ; they are for not a moment to be compared to 

 the occasional sufferings of a brooding fowl in a child's 

 hen-house ! Then on the list of pets come cats and 

 kittens in hopeless measure. Woe betide either them . 

 or the young pheasants ere long ! A curious incident 



