A Cow. 27 



solves unless &quot; something were done, and that short 

 ly,&quot; whenever I went into the yard to appease her. 



What to do was not very clear. When my dog 

 howls I go out and whip him, and he appears to think 

 that is the right thing to do, and stops ; but a cow is 

 such a big thing to whip, and she did not seem to be 

 in the least mollified by a few strokes of a stick that 

 I tried. Gratitude for my good opinion should have 

 induced that cow to take a hint from her equine 

 friends and put a &quot; bridle on her tongue,&quot; but, instead 

 of doing so, she gave free vent to her feelings, and, 

 in spite of petting or Hogging, abusing or praising, 

 made &quot; the air musical.&quot; My exalted admiration for 

 her race diminished as sleep fled from my pillow, 

 and murderous thoughts possessed my soul. I seem 

 ed to see a dagger &quot;with its handle to my hand,&quot; 

 which looked much like a butcher s knife, and there 

 was an estrangement springing up between us that 

 might have terminated fatally had not the Celtic he 

 roine of the turnip adventure reappeared. With the 

 energy peculiar to that sympathetic race, the lady of 

 the kitchen announced, &quot; It was starving, the poor 

 baste was ; and if the master would let her feed the 

 crayture all she wanted, there would be no more 

 noise at all, at all.&quot; That consent was not long with 

 held ; one more roar removed all scruples of dignity, 



