The Black Swans 



We now approach, a pasture. The 

 grazing still is good, and in a corner 

 near the road a group of dairy cows, 

 some standing, some lying down, chew 

 their cud complacently, and turn big 

 eyes and ears my way as I come near. 

 They are mostly Jersey grades and 

 friendly. I stop and visit with them 

 for a time. One of the younger set in 

 particular seems sociably inclined. She 

 comes up to the fence, and I speak to 

 her. She may be of the pure blood. 

 Her fawn-like features show some 

 breeding at any rate, and her shapely 

 udder and well-placed appendages 

 thereto are full of promise. Is it any 

 wonder people become attached to 

 and fond of well-bred animals? As 

 old Jorrocks of fox-hunting fame used 

 to say, "Give me a bit of blood, 

 whether it be in a 'orse, a 'ound or a 

 woman!" Surely it tells. Across the 

 way there is another bunch of cattle 

 of the genus "scrub." Poor things! 

 They are not to blame for their own 

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