and laid me sprawlin on the ground, and every one of the
flock went right slap over me, all but one--poor Brindle.
She never came home agin. Bear nabbed her, and tore her
most ridiculous. He eat what he wanted, which was no
trifle, I can tell you, and left the rest till next time.

"Don't talk to me. Squire. about merits. We all want a
lift in this world; sunthin' or another to lay hold on,
to help us along--_we want the cow's tail_.

"Tell your friend, the female widder, she has got hold
of the wrong cow by the tail in gettin' hold of you, for
you are nothin' but a despisable colonist; but to look
out for some patron here, some leadin' man, or great
lord, to clinch fast hold of him, and stick to him like
a leach, and if he flags, (for patrons, like old Mooley,
get tired sometimes), to recollect the ash saplin, to
lay into him well, and keep him at it, and no fear but
he'll carry her through. He'll fetch her home safe at
last, and no mistake, depend on it, Squire. The best
lesson that little boy could be taught, is, that of _the
Patron, or the Cows Tail_."




CHAPTER III.

ASCOT RACES.