On the day they vaccinated he came into the kitchen and told me he
would need me to help him name the "critters." So he and I "assembled"
in a safe place and took turns naming the calves. As fast as a calf was
vaccinated it was run out of the chute and he or I called out a name
for it and it was booked that way.

The first two he named were the "Duke of Monmouth" and the "Duke of
Montrose." I called my first "Oliver Cromwell" and "John Fox." The poor
"mon" had to have revenge, so the next ugly, scrawny little beast he
called the "Poop of Roome." And it was a heifer calf, too.

This morning I had the startling news that the "Poop" had eaten too
much alfalfa and was all "swellit oop," and, moreover, he had "stealit
it." I don't know which is the more astonishing, that the Pope has
stolen alfalfa, or that he has eaten it.

We have a swell lot of names, but I am not sure I could tell you which
is "Bloody Mary," or which is "Elizabeth," or, indeed, which is which
of any of them.

E.R.



IX

A CONFESSION