The papers are publishing accounts of the arrival east of a train of
palace cattle cars, and illustrating how much better the cattle feel
after a trip in one of these cars, than cattle did when they made the
journey in the ordinary cattle cars.
As we understand it the cars are fitted up in the most gorgeous manner,
in mahogany and rosewood, and the upholstering is something perfectly
grand, and never before undertaken except in the palaces of the old
world.
As you enter the car there is a reception room, with a few chairs, a
lounge and an ottoman, and a Texas steer gently waves you to a seat with
his horns, while he switches off your hat with his tail. If there is
any particular cow, or steer, or ox, that you wish to see, you give your
card to the attendant steer, and he excuses himself and trots off to
find the one you desire to see. You do not have long to wait, for the
animal courteously rises, humps up his or her back, stretches, yawns,
and with the remark, “the galoot wants to interview me, probably, and
I wish he would keep away,” the particular one sought for comes to the
reception room and puts out its front foot for a shake, smiles and says,
“Glad you came. Was afraid you would let us go away and not call.”
Then the cow or steer sits down on its haunches and the conversation
flows in easy channels. You ask how they like the country, and if they
have good times, and if they are not hard worked, and all that; and they
yawn and say the country is splendid at this season of the year, and
that when passing along the road they feel as though they would like to
get out in some meadow, and eat grass and switch flies.
The steer asks the visitor if he does not want to look through the car,
when he says he would like to if it is not too much trouble. The steer
says it is no trouble at all, at the same time shaking his horns as
though he was mad, and kicking some of the gilding off of a stateroom.
“This,” says the steer who is doing the honors, “is the stateroom
occupied by old Brindle, who is being shipped from St. Joseph, Mo.
Brindle weighs 1,600 on foot--Brindle, get up and show yourself to the
gentleman.”
Brindle kicks off the red blanket, rolls her eyes in a lazy sort of way,
bellows, and stands up in the berth, humps up her back so it raises the
upper berth and causes a heifer that is trying to sleep off a debauch
of bran mash, to kick like a steer, and then looks at the interviewer
as much as to say, “O, go on now and give us a rest.” Brindle turns her
head to a fountain that is near, in which Apollinaris water is flowing,
perfumed with new mown hay, drinks, turns her head, and licks her
back, and stops and thinks, and then looking around as much as to say,
“Gentlemen, you will have to excuse me,” lays down with her head on a
pillow, pulls the coverlid over her and begins to snore.
The attendant steer steers the visitor along the next apartment, which
is a large one, filled with cattle in all positions. One is lying in
a hammock, with her feet on the window, reading the Chicago _Times_
article on “Oleomargerine, or Bull Butter,” at intervals stopping
the reading to curse the writer, who claims that oleomargarine is an
unlawful preparation, containing deleterious substances.
A party of four oxen are seated around a table playing seven-up for the
drinks, and as the attendant steer passes along, a speckled ox with one
horn broken, orders four pails full of Waukesha water with a dash of
oatmeal in it, “and make it hot,” says the ox, as he counts up high,
low, jack and the game.
Passing the card players the visitor notices an upright piano, and asks
what that is for, and the attendant steer says they are all fond of
music, and asks if he would not like to hear some of the cattle play. He
says he would, and the steer calls out a white cow who is sketching, and
asks her to warble a few notes. The cow seats herself on her haunches on
the piano stool, after saying she has such a cold she can't sing, and,
besides, has left her notes at home in the pasture. Turning over a few
leaves with her forward hoof, she finds something familiar, and proceeds
to walk on the piano keys with her forward feet and bellow, “Meat me in
the slaughterhouse when the due bill falls,” or something of that kind,
when the visitor says he has got to go up to the stock yards and attend
a reception of Colorado cattle, and he lights out.
We should think these parlor cattle cars would be a success, and that
cattle would enjoy them very much. It is said that parties desiring to
charter these cars for excursions for human beings, can be accommodated
at any time when they are not needed to transport cattle, if they will
give bonds to return them in as good order as they find them.