attracted by a choice tuft of grass. And then I "came the
Julius Caesar" over them, if you will allow me to use such a slang
expression, a liberty I never should permit you. I don't know that
Julius Caesar ever drove cattle, though he must often have seen the
peasants from the Campagna "haw" and "gee" them round the Forum (of
course in Latin, a language that those cattle understood as well as ours
do English); but what I mean is, that I stood up and "hollered" with all
my might, as everybody does with oxen, as if they were born deaf, and
whacked them with the long lash over the head, just as the big folks did
when they drove. I think now that it was a cowardly thing to crack the
patient old fellows over the face and eyes, and make them wink in their
meek manner. If I am ever a boy again on a farm, I shall speak gently
to the oxen, and not go screaming round the farm like a crazy man; and I
shall not hit them a cruel cut with the lash every few minutes, because
it looks big to do so and I cannot think of anything else to do. I never
liked lickings myself, and I don't know why an ox should like them,
especially as he cannot reason about the moral improvement he is to get
out of them.

Speaking of Latin reminds me that I once taught my cows Latin. I don't
mean that I taught them to read it, for it is very difficult to teach
a cow to read Latin or any of the dead languages,--a cow cares more
for her cud than she does for all the classics put together. But if you
begin early, you can teach a cow, or a calf (if you can teach a calf
anything, which I doubt), Latin as well as English. There were ten cows,
which I had to escort to and from pasture night and morning. To these
cows I gave the names of the Roman numerals, beginning with Unus and
Duo, and going up to Decem. Decem was, of course, the biggest cow of the
party, or at least she was the ruler of the others, and had the place of
honor in the stable and everywhere else. I admire cows, and especially
the exactness with which they define their social position. In this
case, Decem could "lick" Novem, and Novem could "lick" Octo, and so on
down to Unus, who could n't lick anybody, except her own calf. I suppose
I ought to have called the weakest cow Una instead of Unus, considering
her sex; but I did n't care much to teach the cows the declensions of
adjectives, in which I was not very well up myself; and, besides,
it would be of little use to a cow. People who devote themselve