CHAPTER IX.
_JUDGE TWIDDLER'S COW_.
For several months previous to last summer Judge Twiddler's familyobtained milk from Mr. Biles, the most prominent milk-dealer in thevillage. The prevailing impression among the Twiddlers was that Mr.Biles supplied an exceedingly thin and watery fluid; and one day whenthe judge stepped over to pay his quarterly bill he determined to makecomplaint. He found Mr. Biles in the yard mending the valve of hispump; and when the judge made a jocular remark to the effect that thedairy must be in a bad way when the pump was out of order, Mr. Biles,rising with his hammer in his hand, said,
"Oh, I ain't going to deny that we water the milk. I don't mind thejoking about it. But all I say is that when people say we do it frommercenary motives they slander the profession. No, sir; when I putwater in the milk, I do it out of kindness for the people who drinkit. I do it because I'm philanthropic--because I'm sensitive and can'tbear to see folks suffer. Now, s'pos'n a cow is bilious or something,and it makes her milk unwholesome. I give it a dash or two of water,and up it comes to the usual level. Water's the only thing that'll doit. Or s'pos'n that cow eats a pison vine in the woods; am I going tolet my innocent customers be killed by it for the sake of saving alittle labor at the pump? No, sir; I slush in a few quarts of water,neutralize the pison, and there she is as right as a trivet.
"But you take the best milk that ever was, and it ain't fit for thehuman stomach as it comes from the cow. It has too much caseine in it.Prof. Huxley says that millions of poor ignorant men and women aremurdered every year by loading down weak stomachs with caseine. Itsucks up the gastric juice, he says, and gets daubed all around overthe membranes until the pores are choked, and then the first thing youknow the man suddenly curls all up and dies. He says that out yer inAsia, where the milkmen are not as conscientious as we are, there arewhole cemeteries chock full of people that have died of caseine, andthat before long all that country will be one vast burying-ground ifthey don't ameliorate the milk. When I think of the responsibilityresting on me, is it singular that I look at this old pump and wonderthat people don't come and silver plate it and put my statue on it? Itell you, sir, that that humble pump with the cast-iron handle is theonly thing that stands betwixt you and sudden death.
"And besides that, you know how kinder flat raw milk tastes--kinderinsipid and mean. Now, Prof. Huxley, he says that there is only onething that will vivify milk and make it luxurious to the palate, andthat is water. Give it a few jerks under the pump, and out it comessparkling and delicious, like nectar. I dunno how it is, but Prof.Huxley says that it undergoes some kinder chemical change that nothingelse'll bring about but a flavoring of fine old pump-water. You knowthe doctors all water the milk for babies. They know mighty well ifthey didn't those young ones'd shrink all up and sorter fade away.Nature is the best judge. What makes cows drink so much water?Instinct, sir--instinct. Something whispers to 'em that if they don'tsluice in a little water that caseine'd make 'em giddy and eat 'em up.Now, what's the odds whether I put in the water or the cow does? She'sonly a poor brute beast, and might often drink too little; but when Igo at it, I bring the mighty human intellect to bear on the subject;I am guided by reason, and I can water that milk so's it'll have thegreatest possible effect.
"Now, there's chalk. I know some people have an idea that it's wrongto fix up your milk with chalk. But that's only mere blind bigotry.What is chalk? A substance provided by beneficent nature for healingthe ills of the human body. A cow don't eat chalk because it's notneeded by her. Poor uneducated animal! she can't grasp these higherproblems, and she goes on nibbling sour-grass and other things, andfilling her milk with acid, which destroys human membranes and inducescolic. Then science comes to the rescue. Professor Huxley tells usthat chalk cures acidity. Consequently, I get some chalk, stir it inmy cans and save the membranes of my customers without charging them acent for it--actually give it away; and yet they talk about us milkmen'sif we were buccaneers and enemies of the race.
"But I don't care. My conscience is clear. I know mighty well that Ihave a high and holy mission to perform, and I'm going to perform itif they burn me at the stake. What do I care how much this pump costsme if it spreads blessings through the community? What difference doesit make to a man of honor like me if chalk is six cents a pound solong as I know that without it there wouldn't be a membrane in thiscommunity? Now, look at the thing in the right light, and you'llbelieve me that before another century rolls around a gratefuluniverse will worship the memory of the first milkman who ever had apump and who doctored his milk with chalk. It will, unless justice isnever to have her own."
Then Mr. Biles rigged the sucker in the pump, toned up a few cans ofmilk, corrected the acidity, and went into the house to receipt thejudge's bill.
Mr. Biles' theory interested the judge, but the argument did notconvince him. And so the judge resolved to buy a cow and obtain puremilk, without regard for the alleged views of Professor Huxley.Accordingly, he purchased a cow of a man named Smith, who lives overat the Rising Sun. She was warranted to be fresh and a first-ratemilker. When Judge Twiddler got her home, he asked his hired man,Mooney, if he knew how to milk a cow, and Mooney said of course hedid. The animal, therefore, was consigned to Mooney's care. On thenext day, however, Mooney came into the house to see the judge, and hesaid,
"Judge, that man cheated you in that cow. Why, she's the awfullest oldbeast that ever stood on four legs Dry as punk; hasn't got a drop ofmilk in her. That's a positive fact. I've been trying to milk her forthree or four hours, and can't get a drop. Might as well attempt tomilk a clothes-horse. Regular fraud!"
"This is very extraordinary," exclaimed the judge.
"Yes, sir; and she's wicked. I never saw such a disposition in a cow.Why, while I was working with her she kicked like a flint-lock musket;butted and rared around. I'd rather fool with a tiger than with a cowlike that."
So the judge drove over to the Rising Sun to see Smith about it; andwhen he complained that Smith had sold him a worthless and viciousbeast, and a dry cow at that, Smith said there must be some mistakeabout it. He agreed to go back with the judge and investigate thematter. When they reached the judge's stable, Mooney was not about,but Smith descended from the wagon, approached the cow, and, tothe astonishment of the judge, milked her without the slightestdifficulty, the cow meantime remaining perfectly quiet, and evenbreaking out now and then into what the judge thought looked likesmiles of satisfaction. And then the judge went out to hunt up hishired man. He said to him,
"Mooney, what did you mean by telling me that our cow was dry andugly? You said you couldn't milk her, but Mr. Smith does so withoutany difficulty, and the cow remains perfectly passive."
"I'd like to see him do it," said Mooney, incredulously.
Then Smith sat down and proceeded to perform the operation again. Whenhe began, Mooney exclaimed,
"Why, my gracious! that isn't the way you milk a cow, is it?"
"Of course it is," replied Smith. "How else would you do it?"
"Well, well! and that's the way _you_ milk, is it? I see now I didn'tgo about it exactly right. Why, you know, I never had much experienceat the business; I was brought up in town, and, be George, when Itackled her, I threw her over on her back and tried to milk her with aclothes-pin. I see now I was wrong. We live and learn, don't we?"
THE JUDGE'S COW]
So Smith went home, and the cow remained, and the judge's man waxesstronger in experience with the mysteries of existence daily.
But the cow was not a perfect animal, after all. Among other things,Smith assured the judge that she had a splendid appetite. He said thatshe was the easiest cow with her feed that he ever saw; she would eatalmost anything, and she was generally hungry.
At the end of the first week after she came, Mrs. Twiddler concludedto churn. The hired man spent the whole day at the crank, and aboutsunset the butter came. They got it out, and found that there wasalmost half a pound. Then Mrs. Twiddler began to see how economicalit was to make her ow
n butter. A half pound at the store cost thirtycents. The wages of that man for one day were one dollar, and so thebutter was costing about three dollars a pound, without counting thekeep of the cow. When they tried the butter, it was so poor that theycouldn't eat it, and they gave it to the man to grease the wheelbarrowwith. It seemed somewhat luxurious and princely to maintain a cowfor the purpose of supplying grease at three dollars a pound for thewheelbarrow, but it was hard to see precisely where the profits camein. After about a fortnight the cow seemed so unhappy in the stablethat the judge turned her out in the yard.
The first night she was loose she upset the grape-arbor with her hornsand ate four young peach trees and a dwarf pear tree down to theroots. The next day they gave her as much hay as she would eat, andit seemed likely that her appetite was appeased. But an hour or twoafterward she swallowed six croquet-balls that were lying upon thegrass, and ate half a table-cloth and a pair of drawers from theclothes-line. That evening her milk seemed thin, and the judgeattributed it to the indigestibility of the table-cloth.
During the night she must have got to walking in her sleep, forshe climbed over the fence; and when she was discovered, she wasswallowing one of Mrs. Twiddler's hoopskirts. That evening she ran dryand didn't give any milk at all. The judge thought the exercise shehad taken must have been too severe, and probably the hoopskirt wasnot sufficiently nutritious. It was comforting, however, to reflectthat she was less expensive, from the latter point of view, when shewas dry than when she was fresh. Next morning she ate the spout offthe watering-pot, and then put her head in the kitchen window anddevoured two dinner-plates and the cream-jug. Then she went out andlay down on the strawberry-bed to think. While there something aboutJudge Twiddler's boy seemed to exasperate her; and when he came overinto the yard after his ball, she inserted her horns into his trowsersand flung him across the fence. Then she went to the stable and ate alitter of pups and three feet of the trace-chain.
The judge felt certain that her former owner didn't deceive him whenhe said her appetite was good. She had hunger enough for a drove ofcattle and a couple of flocks of sheep. That day the judge went afterthe butcher to get him to buy her. When he returned with him, she hadjust eaten the monkey-wrench and the screw-driver, and she was tryingto put away a fence-paling. The butcher said she was a fair-enoughsort of cow, but she was too thin. He said he would buy her if thejudge would feed her up and fatten her; and the judge said he wouldtry. He gave her that night food enough for four cows, and sheconsumed it as if she had been upon half rations for a month. When shefinished, she got up, reached for the hired man's straw hat, ate it,and then, bolting out into the garden, she put away the honeysucklevine and a coil of India-rubber hose. The man said that if it was hiscow he would kill her; and the judge told him that he had perhapsbetter just knock her on the head in the morning.
During the night she had another attack of somnambulism, and whilewandering about she ate the door-mat from the front porch, bit offall the fancy-work on top of the cast-iron gate, swallowed six loosebricks that were piled up against the house, and then had a fit amongthe rose bushes. When the judge came down in the morning, she seemedto be breathing her last, but she had strength enough left to seize anewspaper that the judge held in his hand; and when that was down,she gave three or four kicks and rolled over and expired. It cost thejudge three dollars to have the carcase removed. Since then he hasbought his butter and milk and given up all kinds of live-stock.
Elbow-Room: A Novel Without a Plot Page 11