The aegis & intelligencer. [volume] (Bel Air, Md.) 1864-1923, 1886-12-24
A Novel Bnn Eight.

wings
Emily II. miller, In Our Little oaes
A Novel Bnn Fight.
I remember o queer little incident
that happened while we were living in
Massachusetts. My father was lover
of fine cattle, and our farm could show
some OF the handsomest oxen aud COWS
to be found in the State. 1t was stu
ated on the north bank of the Charles
River, which swept along at the foot of
our broad pasture.
in the sultry summer days the twenty
or thirty kline would often stand for
hours in the water, cooling themselves,
and brushing off the flies with their
wet tails.
The river, although but few rods
wide, was very deep in the middle, so
that the animals never ventured to cross
it. 1t was spanned by bridge, across
which led the public highway, and by
this highway the pasture was bounded
at one end.
The road occupied an elevated piece
of ground, and the bridge w& some
twenty feet above the water.
have said that our cattle were very
handsome, but of all the fne-looking
herd the most remarkable was big
Holstein bull, which had twice taken
the highest prize at the State fair. He
weighed 1000 pounds, was perfect in
shape, and had rich, glossy coat that
it was delight to see. Like all the
Holsteins, he was black and white, the
white being like. snow, the black like
ebony. But with all his beauty, the
old fellow was no more to be trusted
than Bengal tiger. His large, full
eyes had an ugly roll whenever he was
approached by strangers; and the deep,
low below and ominous scrape of the
hoof would warn the curious visitor
against too great familiarity.
AS q general thing, he was kept in
his stall, secured by two halters, which,
being attached to ring in his nose,
and leading in opposite directions,
effectually prevented any dangerous
use of the short, sharp, glossy horns.
But at times he was allowed run in
the pasture, when his queer, hoarse
lowing, and kind of muttered thun-
der that he occasionally gave forth,
would attract the attention of those
who passed along the road.
Our farm was situated below the
bridge, as the river ran. On the other
side of the Charles, but above the
bridge, was the Wilson farm. Mr.. Will
son, its owner, was, like my father,
much interested in cattle, and he had q
large Jersey bull, of which he was very
proud.
The animal weighed but little less
than ours, and was nearly as handsome.
He had won the first prize for Jerseys,
and was, in fact, q superb creature.
Mr.. Wilson's pasture reached down
to the water, like our own, and though
not exactly opposite, was still very
near. Occasionally our neighbours bull
would be out at the same time with
ours, and then there would be music.
Although the intervening road which
crossed the bridge prevented them
from seeing each other, they would
still below defiance. Each would paw
the soft river bottom, throwing up an
abundance of mud and water that be-
spattered only his own handsome coat,
while he vainly longed for good, saw
age clinch with his enemy.
would not have met either of those
brutes in the middle of ten-acre lot
for the best farm in New England. In
fact, whenever ours was to be set free,
a convenient gate or fence easy to climb
always entered into the calculations of
the person who held the rod and halter;
and equal care was necessary when the
old king of the herd was to be re-
placed in his stall.
One day, when my father was alb
sent, an unusual amount of believing
was heard, and after time, We per-
ceived that it did not seem to come
from the direction of the pasture. We
children ran to find out what the mat
ter was, taking good care, however, not
to put ourselves in the way of danger.
A very brief examination told the
whole story. A cloud of dust was 60
ing up in one part of the highway, and
giving forth thunder very much in the
manner of other clouds. Under it we
could see some huge creature, which
might once have been black and white,
but which was now nearly of the color
of the dust itself. The discovery was
startling. Our big bull was out in the
road!
Our hired men came running to the
scene. but they were powerless in the
premises-no ono of them having the
least inclination to penetrate that thun-
der-cloud, or "head 1t of" from what
ever direction it might happen to take.
Just then the old stagecoach, which
ran regularly past our place, made its