The Cecil Whig. [volume] (Elkton, Md.) 1841-current, 1873-05-10
OUR FULL.BLOODED COW.
BY REV. T. DE WITT TALMAGE, D. L

OUR FULL.BLOODED COW.
BY REV. t. DE WITT TALMAGE, D. D.
From Tile Methodist.
The man had not been able to paw his
debts. The mortgage on the farm had
been foreclosed. Day of sale had come
The sheriff stood on box reading the
terms of vendue. All payments to be
made in six months. The auctioneer took
his place. The old man and his wife. and
the children all cried, as the piano, and the
chairs, and the pictures, and the carpets,
and tho bedsteads, went at half their
worth. When the piano went it seemed to
the old people as if the sheriff were selling
all the fingers that had ever played on it,
and when the carpets were struck off
think father and mother thought of the
little feet that had tramped it, and when
the bedstead was sold it brought to mind
the bright curly heads that had slept on it
long before the dark days had come, and
father had put his name on the back of a
note signing his own death-warrant. The
next thing to being buried alive is to have
the sheriff sell you out when you have
been honest, and have tried always to do
right. There are SO many envious ones to
chuckle at your fall, and come in to buy
your carriage, blessing the Lord that the
time has come for you to walk and for
them to ride.
But to US the auction reached its climax
of interest when we went to the barn. We
were spending our Summer in the country,
and must have COW. There were ten or
fifteen sukies to be sold. There were reds
and piebalds, and duns, and browns, and
brindles, short horns, long horns, crumpled
horns, and no horns. But we marked for
our own COW that was said to be full
FLOODED, whether Attorney, or Durham, or
Galloway, or Ayrshire, will not tell lest
some cattle-fancier feel insulted by what l
write, and, if there is any grace that l
pride myself on, it is prudence, and a de-
termination always to say smooth things
How much is bid for this magnificent
full-bloodsd cow" cried the auctioneer.-
Seventy-five dollars" shouted some one.
| made it eighty. He made it ninety
Somebody else quickly made it hundred.
After the bids had risen to one hundred
and twenty-five dollars, got animated,
and resolved that l would have that COW if
it took my last cent. "One hundred and
forty dollars!' shouted my opponent The
auctioneer said it was the finest COW be had
ever sold, and not knowing much about
vendues, of course believed him. 1t was
good deal of money for a minister to pay,
but then, could get the whole matter off
my hands by giving ga note" In utter
defiance of everything cried out, Gone
hundred and fifty dollars.' "Gong at
that! once! twice! three time! gone! Mr..
Talmage has it," 1t was one of the proud
est moments of cur life. There she stood,
tall, immense in the girth, horns branch
ing, graceful as tree-branch, full-udder-
ed, silk coated, pensive-eysd.
We hired two boys to drive her home
while we rode in carriage. No sooner
had we started than the COW showed what
turned out to be one Of her peculiarities,
great speed of hoof She left the boys,
outran my horse, jumped the fence, fright
ened nearly to death a group of school
children, and by the time we got home we
all felt as if we had all day been out on a
fox chase.
We never had any peace with that COW.
She knew more tricks than iuggler. She
could let down any bars, open any gate,
outrun any dog, and. ruin the patients of
any minister. We had her a year, and yet
she never got over wanting to go to the
vendue. Once started out of the yard she
was bound to see the sheriff. We coaxed
her with carrots, and apples, and cabbage,
and sweetest stalks, and the richest bever-
age of Stops, but without avail.
AS mixer she was failure. "Mike,"
who lived just back of our place, would
come in nights from his Kerry cow"
scraggly runt that lived on the commons,
with his pail SO full he had to carry it
cautiously lest it spill over. But after our
full-blooded had been in clover to her eyes
all day, Bridget would 60 out to the barn
yard, and tug and pull for supply enough
to make two or three custards. I said,
Bridget, you don't know how to milk
Let me try. l sat down by the COW, tried
the full force of dynamics, but just at the
moment when my success was about to be
demonstrated, sudden thought took her
somewhere between the horns, and she
started for the vendue. with one stroke of
her back foot upsetting the small treasure
l had accumulated, and leaving me a mere
wreck of what once was.
She had, among other bad things NOR
bid appetite. Notwithstanding we gave
her the richest herbaceous diet, she ate
everything she could put her mouth on
She was fond of horse blankets and articles
of human clothing. found her one day
at the clothes-line, nearly choked to death,
for she had swallowed one leg of something,
and seemed dissatisfied that she could not
get down the other. The most perfect
nuisance that ever had about my place
was that full -blooded.
Having read in our agricultural journal
of cows that were slaughtered yielding
fourteen hundred pounds neat weight, we
concluded to sell her to the butcher. We
set high price upon her and got it-that
is, we took a note for it, which is the same
thing. My bargain with the butcher was
the only successful chapter in my bovine
experiences. The only taking.off in the