It was our Sussex brown cow who told me all this, so I am sure it is
true. If you had ever seen our Sussex brown you would know how very
truthful she is. I used sometimes to go to her house, and sit by the
door in the evening, after milking-time, and listen to the stories
she would tell me. She knew many very different stories but she was
most fond of this one. I will tell it to you just as she used to tell
it to me.
[Illustration: Cow in barn with girl]
“You know, my dear,” she would begin, “I did not always live at
this farm. I used to belong to a very rich farmer, who had a large
farm in Sussex. I was born and bred in Sussex—the best place for a
cow to be born in, I can tell you—and it was only three or four years
ago that I came to live here. Well, we used to be driven into one
field in the morning and taken back to our houses in the evening, and
in that field there was an old black horse. I believe he stayed there
night and day, for I never saw him taken into a stable. He was very
black and had no doubt been handsome in his day, but he was getting
very old, although he always pretended to be as young and gay as
ever. He would come up to us when we were grazing and start clearing
his throat. Did I hear you laugh, my dear?” she said suddenly looking
at me rather sadly out of her velvety-brown eyes. “Horses, like men,
clear their throats to draw attention when they are going to speak.”
“What did the horse do when he had cleared his throat?” I asked.
“Oh,” he said—‘Excuse me, ladies, but did I ever tell you that I come
of a very ancient Spanish stock?’
“Generally we just said ‘Yes, and went on eating, but it didn’t stop
his talk.’
“‘Oh, those were good old days!’ he would say. ‘I was ridden by a
toreador in those days.’ If there were a calf in the field the silly
little thing would say ‘What is a Toreador?’ and that was just what
the old horse wanted to be asked.
[Illustration: Cow head closeup]
“‘A toreador is a man who fights bulls,’ he would say proudly. ‘I and
my companions used to be ridden by these toreadors into the arena,
which is a large round place, like the thing that is called a circus
ring I believe. We didn’t wear harness as horses do here, but what
our toreadors called “trappings.” And these trappings were made
of bright red cloth. Our toreadors were dressed in scarlet, too,
and carried little pieces of red silk in their hands. Then someone
would open a door in the side of the arena and the bull would come
in. He was always rather stupid at first and used to stare about him
without seeing anything, until the toreadors galloped up with us and
shouted and waved their red flags. Then the silly old thing would get
angry, and try to run his horns into us, but we were always too quick
for him. At least, of course, some of the horses used to get hurt
sometimes, but _I_ never did. It only needed a little sense to keep
out of the way of such a stupid old noodle as a bull. And he always
got killed in the end by our brave toreadors.’
“‘_Brave_ toreadors, indeed!’ we used to say very angrily, because
of course it was very rude of him to come and talk of our relations
the bulls like that. Besides, we never really believed him at all. He
only made it up to annoy us.”
“Oh, no, Brownie!” I said, “there really are bull-fights you know.”
“Nonsense,” said Brownie “don’t try to teach _me_! I know more of
the world than you do, and I don’t believe it.”
“All right, Brownie dear,” I said quickly, “you _do_ know ever so
many things. Please, go on with the story.”
[Illustration: Cows and a horse]
“Well, perhaps we shouldn’t have minded so much if the old horse had
only told us this once, but he did it every day and we got tired of
him.
“So, one day, before he had come up to us, I said to the others,
‘Look here! Let’s see if he is as brave and as quick at bull-fights
as he says. We can’t give him a bull-fight but we can show him what
cows can do. In his bull-fights there were always a lot of horses and
only one bull. Well, in our cow fight there will be only one horse
and a great many cows. Now, all of you, when he comes to speak to us
this morning, put down your horns and run at him!’”
“Oh, Brownie, Brownie!” I said, “I thought you were always kind and
gentle. Poor old horse!”
[Illustration: Horse laying with cows]
“No, my dear, _not_ poor old horse! We had had quite enough of that
tiresome old creature and it was time we stopped his nonsense,”
said Brownie. “The others all agreed to do as I had told them, and
when the old horse came up to us we made a dash at him. He was
dreadfully frightened and ran away, but we chased him and chased him,
and wherever he turned he found a cow ready to try and toss him. Of
course, we never really touched him, but he was just as frightened
as if we had tossed him all to bits. At last, he began to beg us to
stop, and I said, ‘We will stop, if you will promise us something.’
“‘Oh—_anything_,’ he said, and sank down on the grass. We all lay
down around him and laughed and laughed. ‘Oh dear, oh dear!’ said our
Sussex Brown, beginning to laugh at the thought of it.
“Have you ever heard a cow laugh? If ever you do I am sure you will
laugh too, because it is much funnier than most things.
[Illustration: Horse and cow]
“At last,” Brownie went on, “when I had got my breath and was able to
stop laughing, I said, ‘You must promise never to talk of bull-fights
again. We are thoroughly tired of your boasting stories, and we know
just how brave you are now. If you can’t win a cow-fight I’m sure you
could never get the better of a bull.’
“‘I promise,’ said the old horse, ‘but you ought to have seen our
toreador when the bull was dead and they—’
“‘Get up!’ I called to the others, ‘he is ready for another
cow-fight. Down with your horns, my friends!’
“‘No, no!’ said the old horse, ‘I will never talk about it again,’
and he never did. But oh dear, my dear, I wish you could have seen
us chasing that horse all round the field? It was _so_ funny! And
our Sussex Brown began to chuckle and laugh so loudly that she did
not answer me when I said ‘Good-night,’ and went out of her house. I
could hear her still laughing to herself as I went into the farm.”