t give in to the master
cow. It's not her size, nor strength, bless you, it's her spirit. As
soon as the question is once settled, she's as mild as a lamb again.
Gives us eighteen quarts of milk a day."

We were surprised to hear of so great a quantity, but this was something
abated by a consideration of the rich, varied, and abundant supply of
food afforded to these cows, besides the air, attendance, and other
favorable circumstances. For their food they have mangold-wurtzel, both
the long red and the orange globe sorts, parsnips, turnips, and
kohl-rabi (Jewish cabbage), a curious kind of green turnip, with cabbage
leaves sprouting out of the top all round, like the feathery arms of the
Prince of Wales. Of this last mentioned vegetable the cows often eat
greedily; and sometimes endeavoring to bolt too large a piece, it sticks
in their throats and threatens strangulation. On these occasions, one of
the watchful keepers rushes to the rescue with a thing called a _pro
bang_ (in fact a cow's throat ramrod), with which he rams down the
obstructive morsel. But, besides these articles of food, there is the
unlimited eating of grass in the pastures, so that the yield of a large
quantity of milk seems only a matter of course, though we were not
prepared to hear of its averaging from twelve to eighteen and twenty
quarts of milk a day, from each of these two or three hundred cows.
Four-and-twenty quarts a day is not an unusual occurrence from some of
the cows; and one of them, we were assured by several of the keepers,
once yielded the enormous quantity of twenty-eight quarts a day during
six or seven weeks. The poor cow, however, suffered for this
munificence, for she was taken very ill with a fever, and her life was
given over by the doctor. Mr. Wright, the proprietor, told us that he
sat up two nights with her himself, he had such a respect for the cow;
and in the morning of the second night after she was given over, when
the butcher came for her, he couldn't find it in his heart to let him
have her. "No, butcher," said he, "she's been a good friend to me, and
I'll let her die a quiet, natural death." She hung her head, and her
horns felt very cold, and so she lay for some time longer; but he nursed
her, and was rewarded, for she recovered; and there she stands--the
strawberry Durham short-horn--and yields him again from sixteen to
eighteen quarts of milk a day.

Reverting to the "master cow," we inquired whether her supremac