THE THREE CALVES.
My little friend Max was on a farm, a whole week last May, and he likes to talk of the good time he had there.
He says there were no less than three calves in the great field; and he used to watch them and feed them two or three times a day.
They grew to be so tame that they would let him come up and pat them on the back, and feel of their budding horns. He gave them each a name.
One he called Daisy; one, Pink; and one, Rose. He said if he had been with them three weeks, he should have taught them to know their names.
He hopes to see them again next May; but I think they will be good sized cows by that time, for they grow very fast.
A. B. C.
