not have the cow in the grounds. He said, "All right, boss;" but
he did not go away. I asked him to clear out. The man, who is a French
sympathizer from the Republic of Ireland, kept his temper perfectly. He
said he wasn't doing anything, just feeding his cow a bit: he wouldn't
make me the least trouble in the world. I reminded him that he had been
told again and again not to come here; that he might have all the grass,
but he should not bring his cow upon the premises. The imperturbable man
assented to everything that I said, and kept on feeding his cow. Before
I got him to go to fresh scenes and pastures new, the Sabbath was almost
broken; but it was saved by one thing: it is difficult to be emphatic
when no one is emphatic on the other side. The man and his cow have
taught me a great lesson, which I shall recall when I keep a cow. I can
recommend this cow, if anybody wants one, as a steady boarder, whose
keeping will cost the owner little; but, if her milk is at all like her
voice, those who drink it are on the straight road to lunacy.

I think I have said that we have a game-preserve. We keep quails, or try
to, in the thickly wooded, bushed, and brushed ravine. This bird is
a great favorite with us, dead or alive, on account of its tasteful
plumage, its tender flesh, its domestic virtues, and its pleasant
piping. Besides, although I appreciate toads and cows, and all that sort
of thing, I like to have a game-preserve more in the English style.
And we did. For in July, while the game-law was on, and the
young quails were coming on, we were awakened one morning by
firing,--musketry-firing, close at hand. My first thought was, that war
was declared; but, as I should never pay much attention to war declared
at that time in the morning, I went to sleep again. But the occurrence
was repeated,--and not only early in the morning, but at night. There
was calling of dogs, breaking down of brush, and firing of guns. It is
hardly pleasant to have guns fired in the direction of the house, at
your own quails. The hunters could be sometimes seen, but never caught.
Their best time was about sunrise; but, before one could dress and get
to the front, they would retire.

One morning, about four o'clock, I heard the battle renewed. I sprang
up, but not in arms, and went to a window. Polly (like another 'blessed
damozel') flew to another window,--

"The blessed damozel leaned out
From the gold bar of heaven,"

and reconnoiter