OUR RURAL DIVINITY 127 
eow, and that is how to get into your garden. She 
catches glimpses of it over the fence or through the 
pickets, and her imagination or epigastrium is in- 
flamed. When the spot is surrounded by a high 
board fence, I think I have seen her peeping at the 
cabbages through a knothole. At last she learns 
to open the gate. It is a great triumph of bovine 
wit. She does it with her horn or her nose, or may 
be with her ever-ready tongue. I doubt if she has 
ever yet penetrated the mystery of the newer patent 
fastenings; but the old-fashioned thumb-latch she 
can see through, give her time enough. 
A large, lank, muley or polled cow used to annoy 
me in this way when I was a dweller in a certain 
pastoral city. I more than half suspected she was 
turned in by some one; so one day I watched. Pres- 
ently I heard the gate-latch rattle; the gate swung 
open, and in walked the old buffalo. On seeing me 
she turned and ran like a horse. I then fastened 
the gate on the inside and watched again, After 
long waiting the old cow came quickly round the 
corner and approached the gate. She lifted the 
latch with her nose. Then, as the gate did not 
move, she lifted it again and again. Then she 
gently nudged it. Then, the obtuse gate not taking 
the hint, she butted it gently, then harder and still 
harder, till it rattled again. At this juncture I 
emerged from my hiding-place, when the old villain 
scampered off with great precipitation, She knew 
she was trespassing, and she had learned that there 
were usually some swift penalties attached to this 
pastime. 
