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 reconnoitered from behind the blinds.

"The wonder was not yet quite gone
From that still look of hers,"

when an armed man and a legged dog appeared in the opening. I was
vigilantly watching him.

. . . . "And now
She spoke through the still weather."

"Are you afraid to speak to him?" asked Polly.

Not exactly,

. . . ."she spoke as when
The stars sang in their spheres