The Cow-Bell Symphony of Old Seattle

Mr. Joskins told a resident of this city that he lives in a quiet neighborhood, and all of Mr. Joskins' neighbors keep and fear a bell. And, with an instinct worthy of the family, each neighbor has selected a cow-bell of a different key and tone from any of the others, in order that he might know the cow of his heart from the other kine of the district. So that Mr. Joskins' nights are filled with music, and he has learned so exactly the tone of every bell and the habits of each corresponding cow that the voices of the night are not an unintelligible jargon to him. When the first moments of his slumber are broken by a resonant 'ka-lum, ka-lum,' Mr. Joskins knows the widow Burberry's old crumple-horn is looking for an open gate. Then, when he is called up from his second doze by a lively serenade of clanking bells, he knows that Mr. Throstlewaite's young bundle is in his garden, and that Throstlewaite is mailing around after her in a pair of slippers and a night shirt. He knows which cow is browsing on the sidewalk, which is skirmishing down the alley, and which cow has lost the clapper out of her bell and keeps up an intermittent 'oo-oo-ali-ah' to supply its loss. And although it has murdered his dreams of a quiet home, it has given him an opportunity to cultivate habits of intelligent observation, and has induced him to register a vow that if he is ever rich enough he will keep ten cows, trained to sleep all day, so as to be ready for duty all night, and he will live in the heart of the city with them, and make them wear four bells apiece, just for the pleasure of his neighbors.