he historic
fight of Captain Lovewell and his rangers with the Pequawket Indians in
1640, and the other to Norridgewock, where the devoted French
missionary, Father Sebastian Rasle, lost his life in 1724.
Owing to the constant press of farm labors, opportunity for setting off
had never yet fairly occurred. But the Old Squire always fully intended
to go; he was genuinely interested in the early history of our State
and, indeed, remarkably well posted as to it. Francis Parkman, the
historian, had once come to the farm for a day or two, on purpose to
inquire as to certain points connected with the massacre at
Norridgewock.
Nothing more was said that morning about our pictures, however, for both
the Old Squire and Addison were engrossed in the late disturbing news
concerning President Johnson.
"And father says," continued Thomas, "that I may go over to uncle
Gurney's with Addison and help him get the heifer home."
These, be it said, were the first Jersey cattle ever seen in that
vicinity. Gurney had bought four of them from a stock farm somewheres in
Massachusetts, and their arrival marked an era in Maine dairying.
Farmers were very curious about them. Opinions differed widely as to
their value.
The Jersey cow is now, to quote a certain witty Congressman, one of our
national institutions. Asked to name the five most characteristic
American "institutions," this waggish legislator replied, "The
Constitution, Free Public Schools, Railroads, Newspapers and the Jersey
cow!"
There is a spice of homely truth underlying the jest. For certainly the
greatest delicacies of our tables are the cream, the butter and the milk
that now come to us from our clean, well-managed dairies; and it is
hardly too much to say that we owe the best of these products to the
Jersey cow.
By careful breeding and feeding the Jersey has gained wonderfully in
size, temper and good appearance, until few handsomer animals can now
be found in the farmer's pasture or barn. But many of us can remember
the first Jerseys, and what a reproach their wizened bodies and piebald
hides were in any herd. It was admitted that their milk was yellow and
wonderfully rich in butter fat; but they were so homely, so
spindle-legged, so brindled along the withers, so pale-yellow down the
sides, so foolishly white in the flanks, down the fore legs and about
the jowls, yet so black-kneed and wildly touched about the eyes, that no
one could admire them.
"That a co
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