When Edward was eight years old, his mother told him he might go with
John, the hired man, to drive the cows from the pasture. How happy the
little boy was!
Every day he would be ready as soon as John gave the word; and off they
would go, through the woods, over hills and rocks, and gurgling brooks,
wherever the ding-dong of the distant cow-bells pointed the way.
Sometimes they had a long search before they could find all the cows;
for the pasture was very large, and the cows would wander about in
every part of it, to find the best feeding-places.
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On the way home, Edward would run ahead of the cows, and open the bars;
and sometimes he would sit on the wall, and pat each cow as she came
through.
When the cows reached the barnyard, Edward would help milk. There was
one old cow which he called his own, and which he named Carrie. She
always stood very still while being milked, and that was one reason why
he liked her better than any of the rest.
After milking, he helped John to carry in the milk, and his mother often
gave him a mug full. Oh, how nice it was!