iry
farm. Pick out cows with naturally sweet and kindly dispositions. Make
nature fit nature. For instance, take a nice red cow and feed her on red
roses. Nothing but red roses. Her milk is specially bottled and sold as
rose milk. By and by, maybe, its color would be a beautiful red. It
would smell like red roses. White cows should have lilacs and lilies of
the valley. Yellow cows ought to be fed on daisies and such. Think of
the advertising possibilities. 'Try our Rose milk, or Lily of the Valley
milk or Daisy milk.' And say, what's the matter with feeding violets to
blue cows? Violet brand would of course be the favorite for blonde
women, and Rose milk for the brunettes. Make the cow's home surroundings
lovely. Don't shut her up in a filthy stall but give her a room, and a
nice bed, and pictures on the wall so she can have something to look at
besides the doggoned scenery she has to see during working hours, when
she's busy making milk and wishing the whistle would blow so she could
lay off her overalls and go home to her family. Cows, I tell you,
are----"

He turned towards his seat mate to find a vacant space and to discover a
man with wild eyes and hasty furtiveness making his way toward the door
of the other compartment, as if seeking safety.

"Well what do you think of that!" exclaimed Jimmy, sotto voice.
"Confound it. It's the darned farmers that need educating; not the cows.
I swear I believe cows have more sense of humor than some men. And I was
just beginning to get good, too!"

And then, chuckling, he consulted his watch, and began leisurely
collecting his belongings.

All his leisureliness vanished, however, from the moment when he issued
from his hotel, and he became as brisk and busy as a cricket intent on
ravaging an entire wheat field in a series of swift swoops.

"You seem to be in a mighty big hurry, Jim," complained one customer,
later in the day, "What's the rush?"

Jimmy, mopping his forehead, for the first time appeared a trifle
diffident, flushed like a school boy and then blurted, "Well, to tell
the honest truth I am in a hurry. I'm trying to clean up and catch the
six-thirty train east. You see--I don't know as there is anything to be
ashamed of--I've got to get home to my mother."

Observing that this statement provoked no ridicule, he expanded.

"I suppose I've got as fine a mother as ever lived. She's down in
Baltimore and she's due to have a birthday in just three days, and--you
k