‘Oh Lord! my butter’s lost!’ yelled Peter the Graybeard, as he rushed pell-mell up the steps, with the spigot in his hand.  What a spectacle was there! the churn upset, the cream spilt all over the floor, and the huge sow fairly wallowing in the rich and savory tide.

Now even a wiser man would have lost all patience; as for Peter, he rushed upon the brute, who, with piercing screams, strove to escape; but it was a hapless day to the thief, for her master caught her in the doorway and dealt her so well applied and vigorous a blow on the side of her skull with the spigot that the sow fell dead on the spot.

As he drew back his novel weapon, now covered with blood, Peter recollected that he had not closed the bung-hole of his cask, and that all this time his beer was running to waste.  So down he rushed again to the cellar.  Fortunately, the beer had ceased to run, but then that was because not a drop remained in the cask.

He had now to begin his morning’s work again, and churn some more butter if he expected to see any dinner that day.  So Peter visited the dairy-house, and there found enough cream to replaced what he had just lost.  At it he goes again, and churns and churns away, more vigorously than ever.  But, in the midst of his churning, he remembers—­a little late to be sure, but better late than never—­that the cow was still in the stable, and that she had neither food nor water, although the sun was now high above the horizon.  Away he runs then to the stable.  But experience has made him wise:  ’I’ve my little child there rolling on the floor; now, if I leave the churn, the greedy scamp will turn it over, and something worse might easily happen!’ Whereupon, he takes up the churn on his back and hastens to the well to draw water for the cow.  The well was deep, and the buckets did not go down far enough.  So Peter leans with all his might, in hot haste, on the rope, and away goes the cream out of the churn, over his head and shoulders, into the well!

‘Confound it!’ said Peter between his teeth, ’it’s clear that I’m to have no butter to-day.  Let’s attend to the cow; it’s too late to take her out to pasture, but there’s a fine lot of hay on the house-thatch that hasn’t been cut, and so she’ll lose nothing by staying at home.’  To get the cow out of the stable and to put her on the house-roof was no great trouble, for the dwelling was set in a hollow in the hill-side, so that the thatch was almost on a level with the ground.  A plank served the purpose of a bridge, and behold the cow comfortably installed in her elevated pasture!  Peter, of course, could not remain upon the roof to watch the animal; he had to make the mid-day porridge and take it to the mowers.  But he was a prudent man, and did not want to leave his cow exposed to the risk of breaking her bones; so he tied a small rope around her neck, and this rope he passed carefully down the chimney of the cottage into the kitchen below.  Having effected this, he descended himself, and, entering the kitchen, attached the other end of the rope to his own leg.