"The 'canastrao'? Piffle!! A backward breed and very rank. My favorite is the Poland China. The Large Black is also good. But the Poland! What precocity! What a breed!"
Moreira, terribly ignorant on the subject, knowing only the famished skinny ones with out name or breed, that grunted in his own pastures, unconsciously opened his mouth in astonishment.
"As far as bovine cattle is concerned," continued Trancoso, I think that all of them from Barreto to Prado are entirely wrong. Completely wrong, I say. There should be no selection or inter-breeding. I advise the immediate adoption of the finer breeds; the Polled Angus and the Red Lincoln. We have no pastures? We'll make them. We'll plant alfalfa. Make hay, ensilage. Assis confessed to me once . . ."
Assis! the highest authorities on agriculture confessed to that man! He was intimate with them all—Prado, Barreto, Cotrim . . . and Ministers! "Now, I told Bezerra . . ."
Never was that house honored with a more distinguished gentleman, so well connected and so widely traveled.
He spoke of the Argentine and Chicago like someone who had just come from there. Marvelous!
Moreira's mouth opened and had almost reached the last degree of aperture allowed by the jaws, when a woman's voice announced breakfast.
Introductions. Zilda was the recipient of phrases never before dreamed of, which made
