Nowadays we hardly
know what is meant by the expression, "Spring poor." It is a
sinister phrase, and tells a story of the old, cruel days when
farmers begrudged their cattle the little bite they ate in
wintertime, so that when the grass came again the poor creatures
would fall over trying to crop it. They were so starved and weak
that, as the saying went, they had to lean up against the fence to
breathe. They don't do that way now, as one look at the fine,
sleek cows will show you. A cow these days is a different sort of
a being, her coat like satin, and her udder generous, compared with
the wild-eyed things with burrs in their tails, and their flanks
crusted with filth, their udders the size of a kid glove, and
yielding such a little dab of milk and for such a short period.
Hear the dairymen boast now of the miraculous yearly yield in pounds
of butter and milk, and when they say: "You've got to treat a cow
as if she were a lady," it sounds like good sense.
Pigs are naturally so untidy about their persons, and have such
shocking table-manners that it seems difficult to treat a sow like
a lady, but that one in the pen yonder, with her litter of sucking
pigs, seems very interesting. Come, let's have a look. Aren't the
little pigs dear things? I'd like to climb in and take one of them
up to pet it; do you s'pose she'd mind it if I did? I can see
decided improvement in the modern hogs over old Mose Batcheller's.
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