t. Still, it will be desirable that
you should know how, in case he gets sick. You may come out with me
after supper and take your first lesson."

Frank ran for his hat with alacrity. This seemed like beginning in
earnest. He accompanied his father to the barn, and looked with new
interest at the four cows constituting his father's stock.

"I think we will begin with this one," said his father, pointing to a
red-and-white heifer. "She is better-natured than the others, and, as I
dare say your fingers will bungle a little at first, that is a point to
be considered."

If any of my boy readers has ever undertaken the task of milking for the
first time, he will appreciate Frank's difficulties. When he had seen
his father milking, it seemed to him extremely easy. The milk poured out
in rich streams, almost without an effort. But under his inexperienced
fingers none came. He tugged away manfully, but with no result.

"I guess the cow's dry," said he at last, looking up in his father's
face.

Mr. Frost in reply drew out a copious stream.

"I did the same as you," said Frank, mystified, "and none came."

"You didn't take hold right," said his father, "and you pressed at the
wrong time. Let me show you."

Before the first lesson was over Frank had advanced a little in the art
of milking, and it may as well be said here that in the course of a week
or so he became a fair proficient, so that his father even allowed him
to try Vixen, a cow who had received this name from the uncertainty of
her temper. She had more than once upset the pail with a spiteful kick
when it was nearly full. One morning she upset not only the pail, but
Frank, who looked foolish enough as he got up covered with milk.

Frank also commenced reading the Plowman, a weekly agricultural paper
which his father had taken for years. Until now he had confined his
readings in it to the selected story on the fourth page. Now, with an
object in view, he read carefully other parts of the paper. He did this
not merely in the first flush of enthusiasm, but with the steady purpose
of qualifying himself to take his father's place.

"Frank is an uncommon boy," said Mr. Frost to his wife, not without
feelings of pride, one night, when our hero had retired to bed. "I would
trust him with the farm sooner than many who are half a dozen years
older."

CHAPTER VII. LIKE FATHER, LIKE SON

"Well, father, I've got some news for you," said John Haynes, as he
entered