ducks, geese, pigs, bees, and of a fussy and exacting old gray
mare. And the habit of servitude, I find, has worn deep scars
upon me. I am almost like the life prisoner who finds the door
of his cell suddenly open, and fears to escape. Why, I had almost
become ALL farmer.

On the first morning after I left home I awoke as usual about
five o'clock with the irresistible feeling that I must do the
milking. So well disciplined had I become in my servitude that I
instinctively thrust my leg out of bed--but pulled it quickly
back in again, turned over, drew a long, luxurious breath, and
said to myself:

"Avaunt cows! Get thee behind me, swine! Shoo, hens!"

Instantly the clatter of mastery to which I had responded so
quickly for so many years grew perceptibly fainter, the hens
cackled less domineeringly, the pigs squealed less insistently,
and as for the strutting cockerel, that lordly and despotic bird
stopped fairly in the middle of a crow, and his voice gurgled
away in a spasm of astonishment. As for the old farmhouse, it
grew so dim I could scarcely see it at all! Having thus published
abroad my Declaration of Independence, nailed my defiance to the
door, and otherwise established myself as a free person, I turned
over in my bed and took another delicious nap.

Do you know, friend, we can be free of many things that dominate
our lives by merely crying out a rebellious "Avaunt!"

But in spite of this bold beginning, I assure you it required