The Blithedale Romance by Nathaniel Hawthorne Chapter 24 Page 12

were open, but with no more signs of life than in a dead man’s unshut eyes. The barn-door was ajar, and swinging in the

breeze. The big old dog, — he was a relic of the former dynasty of the farm, — that hardly ever stirred out of the yard, was nowhere to be seen.

What, then, had become of all the fraternity and sisterhood? Curious to ascertain this point, I let myself down out of the tree, and going to the edge of the wood, was glad to perceive our herd of cows chewing the cud or grazing not far off. I fancied, by their manner, that two or three of them recognized me (as, indeed, they ought, for I had milked them and been their chamberlain times without number); but, after staring me in the face a little while, they phlegmatically began grazing and chewing