A GARDEN IN VENICE 



in the milk jug. And we, enduring what 

 could not be helped, were sometimes constrained 

 to accept a work of Art we did not care for 

 in the place of a product of Nature that was 

 good for us. One day a fine yacht, Mr. Gordon 

 Bennett's Namouna, came into harbour to lay up 

 for the summer, and I was told that she had on 

 board a cow for sale — a splendid cow shipped 

 from one of the ports of Switzerland. I went to 

 see, and bought her. Namouna, as we called 

 her, was pleased at first with the garden, but 

 soon missed her sailors. In vain we walked her 

 about, and added to her corn and hay and 

 grass tempting dishes of pea halm and cabbages. 

 She would not be comforted until we got 

 her a companion. Some friends then who, 

 tasting at our house Namouna's milk, pre- 

 ferred it to milk and water, had other friends 

 of like tastes, and to content and supply them I 

 bought other cows, until we have fifteen, 

 brought down from the Italian and Austrian 

 mountains. Two distinct breeds — one which 

 gives much milk, one which gives much cream, 

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