12 Turnaside Cottage.

 

the cow. My father announced that she was to be
my charge ; I was to follow her out to the common
every day, to guard her as she grazed, and to bring
her home in the evening. “For Reuben is getting
too old now,” said my father, “to idle away his
days as he has done up to this time.” TI felt very
proud when I heard this, and pleased, too, at the
prospect of unbounded liberty opened out to me.
It was, nevertheless, with a very trembling satis-
faction that I followed my father next morning to
the common, with the black cow shambling along
in front of us, and listened to his directions as to
where she might graze, and when I must drive her
home to be milked. My father cut me a stick
before he left me, and gave me a friendly nod at
parting ; but when he was fairly gone, all my new-
born manliness departed too. ‘The sense of my
desolate position was almost too much for me, and
I felt a great sob rising in my throat. Suppose the
big cow chose to go home again, or to walk off to
Rhydcwm, or Pembroke perhaps—for who could
tell what she might take it into her head. to do ?—
how was I to prevent her? Did she kick? Did
she bite? I had heard of cows tossing people—
killing them, even. Terror took possession of my
mind, as I hid myself behind a protecting thorn-bush
and watched the movements of my charge. Hap.