United States or Australia ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
De rain fall so saf' in de long dark night, Twel you hatter hol' yo' han' for a sign, But de drizzle w'at sets de tater-slips right Is de makin' er de May-pop vine. In de mellerest groun' de clay root 'll ketch En hol' ter de tongue er de plow, En a pine-pole gate at de gyardin-patch Never 'll keep out de ole brindle cow.
Over in the pasture a cow was wearing a cowbell. Every time the cow moved her head the bell said "Tonk! Tonkle! Tonk! Tonkle!" Robert Robin could hear the cowbell making the noise to let the farmer know where his brindle cow was. But Robert Robin kept hearing another sound. "Tonkle! Tonkle!" Then he heard some one talking, and he saw two little girls coming into the woods.
When brindle Great Danes are continuously bred together, it has been found that they get darker, and that the peculiar "striping" disappears, and in that case the introduction of a good fawn into the strain is advisable. The constant mating of harlequins has the tendency to make the black patches disappear, and the union with a good black Great Dane will prevent the loss of colour.
During the rest of the journey a silence fell upon them. Kennedy's brindle bull, scenting a friend, capered madly for a word from Tess, but the squatter paid no heed to her dog chum. She took her hand from Frederick's to unfasten the door and light the candle. While they were walking the tracks, the woman in her had tried to remember in what condition she had left the hut.
Of course there were underhand attempts in plenty and, at least once, open violence a sudden rush from opposite sides, a growling and spitting like sparks from a smithy; and then, with ears laid flat, two ill-favoured beasts clawed blindly at each other, and a sly and tigerish brindle made away with the morsel.
Pigs and cows roamed at large, and were only known to be home at supper-time, when old brindle, in more instances than one, might have been seen peering through the front window with a covetous look upon the family group around the table. Marked improvements are now to be observed in every direction.
He had come like a ghost from the antique past, with his old bones straddling neither horse nor mule, but seated sidewise on a brindle bull, and to reach the place where he was to discourse music he had made a "soon start" yesterday morning and had slept lying by the roadside over night.
"Then on they jogg'd; and since an hour of talk Might cut a banter on the tedious walk, As I remember, said the sober mouse, I've heard much talk of the Wits' Coffee-house; Thither, says Brindle, thou shalt go and see Priests supping coffee, sparks and poets tea; Here rugged frieze, there quality well drest, These baffling the grand Senior, those the Test, And there shrewd guesses made, and reasons given, That human laws were never made in heaven; But, above all, what shall oblige thy sight, And fill thy eyeballs with a vast delight, Is the poetic judge of sacred wit, Who does i' th' darkness of his glory sit; And as the moon who first receives the light, With which she makes these nether regions bright, So does he shine, reflecting from afar The rays he borrowed from a better star; For rules, which from Corneille and Rapin flow, Admired by all the scribbling herd below, From French tradition while he does dispense Unerring truths, 'tis schism, a damned offence, To question his, or trust your private sense."
"Henry, don't you be a fool," his mother had replied. She had then covered her face with the quilt. There was an end to the matter for that night. Nevertheless, the next morning he had gone to a town that was near his mother's farm and had enlisted in a company that was forming there. When he had returned home his mother was milking the brindle cow. Four others stood waiting.
He could not seriously think that this was the cow, because she went along so quietly, behaving just like any other cow. Evidently she neither knew nor cared so much as a wisp of hay about Cadmus, and was only thinking how to get her living along the wayside, where the herbage was green and fresh. Perhaps she was going home to be milked. "Cow, cow, cow!" cried Cadmus. "Hey, Brindle, hey!
Word Of The Day