News and citizen. [volume] (Morrisville, Vt. ;) 1881-current, 1905-10-04

known throughout the Iowa blue grass
belt as Skinhint Zeb. surveyed wrath
fully in the dim dawnlight the damage
wrought in his cherished vegetable
garden by the predatory COW of his de-
tested neighbor, "Uncle Benny" Wray.
"Sence thct calf o. her'n died O tn
scours she's gotter be tn breechiest
critter in tn hull county. Blame f she
amt broke tn top board off'n tibet
fence jumpin' in! Hey, thar!'
And he brandished the empty tin
milk pals he was carrying toward the
intruder. She calmly munched the
heart out of a succulent head of cab
bage and switched her tail by way of
reply to the irate salutation.
"iIey. Outer tharw Zeb advanced
warily in her rear. Old Red had also
developed "hooky" tendencies since her
recent bereavement and must be APP
preached Dramatically. She wheeled
suddenly and paved up dusty chal,
lenge from the cabbage patch. The old
man retreated precipitately to the safe
ty of the adjoining COW yard.
THAR goes another head" he groan-
ed, peering through the fence with
sordid despair in his little bleared eyes.
can l could sell ever one O them cab
bidges fer a cent apiece! Gosh jam tn
pesky critter!" His irascible temper
exploded in his favorite eXpletive.
which was as near to the ragged edge
of profanity as his stanch "Methody"'
principles would allow.
In his veXation he changed the tin
pals together smartly to brighten the
trespasser, though he would have
thrashed his boy Naphthali for such
wicked thoughtlessness. Changing them
might make them leak, and milk pals
cost s cents apiece. This action, even
more than the half profane eXpletive,
evidenced the depth Of old Zeb's men,
tai perturbation. Few things in the
heavens above or the earth beneath
would have tempted him to lay sacri-
legious hands on anything that "cost
money"
"Ill make OF Benny Wray pay dear
fer them cabbidges," he growled in
helpless rage, turning his back on the
sickening sight in the garden. "Wull,
hyur be a-wastin' time on thet ornery
OF COW, an them thrashers a-comin'
at sunup An me with all tibet milk
in ter do yit, s willis tn stable chores.
Seems g eff everything happens ter put
me back ever time them thrashers
comes-an' me a-payin' 'em by the day!
Nv all times fer tibet good fur nothin'
kid O. mine ter go an stuff hisse'f with
green apples-an' it tn day fore
thrashin'r'
Old Zeb hated to milk. That task
was usually performed by young
"Naph," age fourteen, at this pres
ent rising hour Of a. m. wrestling with
cholera morbus, aided by chicken giz-
ard tea and his faithful old sister Phi
lura, the directing angel of Skintiint
Zeb's meager household. The mother
was an invalid-from overwork and
too much stinting said the county Cos
sips.
"Sook, COW! Sock, boss! Soo-oo-oo"-
"A cunning idea entered the old mans
avaricious mind and stopped his COW
call in the middle.
thoughts wull milk OF Red, too,
now she's hyur. 'Er bag'll cake fore
night if l leave it."
Chuckling, he turned back toward
the smokehouse, leaving the COW yard
gate open as he passed. Just inside
the smokehouse door stood the salt
barrel. He dipped out handful and
put it in the battered crown of his wide
straw hat.
Thus fortified with his flag of truce,
he advanced cajolingly toward the en-
envy in the garden. She stopped mid
way in her pleasant occupation of alb
sorbing green things and glared at him
with the misanthropic eye Of one who
held the entire universe responsible for
the loss of her offspring.
He held out the hat with its tooth
some bait. She snuffed the air, shifted
the salt and stepped toward it. Care
fully moving backward, the old work
er of this rustic bunko game edged to-
ward the open gate, with the bovine
victim of misplaced confidence follow
ing gingerly. He led her safely through,
then quickly closed the gate and car
ried the salt back to the barrel in the
mo use N wastin' good salt on other
folks cows" he said as he returned
to his milking.
"Sook, COW. Soo-oo-ookr he calico |
again down the green slope of the cow
lot beyond the barn, where the robins |
were just turning up, and the awak- |
ened kline rose lazily and swung uE |
the hill, dew Tapped in red clover.
Three fat black cats, hearing the |
call, came down with a soft thud from |
their fragrant bed on the high ledge |
of the half cut hayrick and seated |
themselves haunchwise in a dignifed |
row near him, waiting for the milking |
process to begin.
Every morning when the boy Naph |
appeared with the pals the cats wait |
ed their turn for the well directed |
white streams which came from the |
mixers hand, whizzing and guzzling |
down their bewhisEered, |
wide onen mouths.
But though they implored gently in
their best meows for the accustomed |
Iibo tion nnna was forthcoming This