Rensselaer Republican, Volume 18, Number 11, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 19 November 1885 — The Broncho Cow. [ARTICLE]

The Broncho Cow.

When I 'was young and used to roam ■around over the country, gathering watermelons in the dark of the moon I used to think I could milk anybody’s cow, but Ido not think so now. Ido not milk a cow unless the sign is right, and it hasn’t been right for a good many years. The last cow I tried to milk was a common cow, born in obscurity; kind of a self-made cow. I remember her brow was low, but she wore her tail high, and she was haughty, oh, so haughty. I made a commonplace remark to her, one that is used in the very best of society, one that need not have given offense anywhere. I said “So”—and she “soed.” Then I told her to “histe”— and she histed. But I thought she overdid it. She put to much expresjsjOK in it. Jist then I heard something crash through the* window of the barn and fall with a dull, sickening thud on the outside. The neighbors came to see what it was that caused the noise. They found that I had done it in getting through the window. I asked the neighbors if the bam.was still standing. They said it was. Then I asked if the cow was injured much. They said she seemed quite robust. Then I requested them to go in and calm the cow a little and see if they could get my plug hat off her horns. lam buying all my milk now of a milkman. I select a gentle milkman who will not kick, and I feel as though I could trust him. Then if he feels as though he could trust me it is all right. —Bill Nye, in Chicago limes.