it ceased to be
conservative at all, but became revolutionary to the last
degree,--utterly subversive, in fact, of the existing order of things.
Why, the calves got in overnight and turned everything topsyturvy. Their
hoofs crushed in the walls and roof, and the walls and roof between them
crushed the tomatoes, so that architecture and horticulture were
involved in a common ruin. We knew it was the calves, because their
juvenile tracks were all about. Besides, there were the calves. It
turned out to be of no account, for that proved to be a bad year for
tomatoes, so we should have had none in any event, and were saved all
the trouble of cultivating them, while the calves had a free frolic,
poor things. To be sure, they have a fine court-yard for exercise, a
vestibule for noon-day lounging, and snug quarters for sleep and
shelter; but, as it was in the beginning, is now, and ever shall be,

"Fredome is a noble thing!
Fredome mayss man to haiff liking:
Fredome all solace to man giffis:
He levys at ess, that frely levys!
A noble calf may haiff nane ess,
Na ellys nocht that may him pless,
Gyff fredome failyhe: for fre liking
Is yharnyt our all othir thing.
Na he, that ay hass levyt fre,
May nocht knaw weill the propyrte,
The angyr, na the wrechyt dome,
That is cowplyt to foule thyrldome.
Bot gyff he had assayit it,
Than all perquer he suld it wyt;
And suld think fredome mar to pryss,
Than all the gold in warld that is."

And if these wayward children of the earth could find any way of escape
from their gilded fetters, and wander out under the beautiful star-sown
heavens into the wilderness of night to taste the sweets of liberty,
and, if you please, of license, who can find it in his heart to blame
them? Farmers ought not to restrict their thoughts to human motives. We
should endeavor sometimes to look at things with the eyes of a cow, an
ox, a chicken, and so learn to have more consideration for and sympathy
with these younger brethren of ours, these children of a common Father.
The earth is theirs, as truly, if not as thoroughly, as it is ours. The
good God makes grass to grow for the cattle, as well as herb for the
service of man. All the beasts of the field are His. Undoubtedly He
enjoys the happiness of every lamb frisking on the hill-side; and not a
blue-bird flashes through the morning, not a swallow twitters on his
spray, but the Creator