Chapter 11

He has wanted a Jersey cow for a good while and tried prayer, but it didn't seem to get to the central office. Last week he went to a neighbor who is a Christian and believer in the efficacy of prayer, also the owner of a Jersey cow.

"Do you believe that prayer will bring me a yaller Jersey cow?" said Johnny.

"Why, yes, of course. Prayer will remove mountains. It will do anything."

"Well, then, suppose you give me the cow you've got and pray for another one."

THE OLD CIDER MILL.

If I could be a boy again For fifteen minutes, or even ten, I'd make a bee-line for that old mill, Hidden by tangled vines down by the rill, Where the apples were piled in heaps all 'round, Red, streaked and yellow all over the ground; And the old sleepy horse goes round and round And turns the wheels while the apples are ground.

Straight for that old cider mill I'd start, With light bare feet and lighter heart, A smiling face, a big straw hat, Hum made breeches and all o' that. And when I got there I would just take a peep, To see if old cider mill John was asleep, And if he was I'd go snooking round 'Till a great big round rye straw I'd found; I'd straddle a barrel and quick begin To fill with cider right up to my chin.

As old as I am, I can shut my eyes And see the yellow-jackets, bees and flies A-swarming 'round the juicy cheese, And bung-holes; drinking as much as they please I can see the clear sweet cider flow From the press above to the tub below, And a-steaming up into my old nose Comes the smell that only a cider mill knows.

You may talk about your fine old Crow, Your champagne, sherry, and so and so, But of all the drinks of press or still, Give me the juice of that old cider mill, A small boy's energy and suction power For just ten minutes or quarter of an hour, And the happiest boy you ever saw You'd find at the end of that rye straw, And I'll forego forevermore All liquors known on this earthly shore.

--_Anonymous_