OUR RURAL DIVINITY 133 
caught as I turned for a parting glance, went to my 
heart! 
Her stall was soon filled, or partly filled, and this 
time with a native,—a specimen of what may be 
called the cornstalk breed of Virginia; a slender, 
furtive, long-geared heifer just verging on cowhood, 
that in spite of my best efforts would wear a pinched 
and hungry look. She evidently inherited a humped 
back. It was a family trait, and evidence of the 
purity of her blood. For the native blooded cow of 
Virginia, from shivering over half rations of corn- 
stalks in the open air during those bleak and windy 
winters, and roaming over those parched fields in 
summer, has come to have some marked features. 
For one thing, her pedal extremities seem length- 
ened; for another, her udder does not impede her 
traveling; for a third, her backbone inclines strongly 
to the curve; then, she despiseth hay. This last is 
a sure test. Offer a thorough-bred Virginia cow hay, 
and she will laugh in your face; but rattle the husks 
or shucks, and she knows you to be her friend. 
The new-comer even declined corn-meal at first. 
She eyed it furtively, then sniffed it suspiciously, 
but finally discovered that it bore some relation to 
her native ‘“‘shucks,” when she fell to eagerly. 
I cherish the memory of this cow, however, as 
the most affectionate brute I ever knew. Being 
deprived of her calf, she transferred her affections 
to her master, and would fain have made a calf of 
him, lowing in the most piteous and inconsolable 
manner when he was out of her sight, hardly forget- 
