OUR RURAL DIVINITY 123 



her and those that have not, but yielded their alle- 

 giance without crossing. I remember such a one 

 among my father's milkers when I was a boy, — 

 a slender-horned, deep-shouldered, large-uddered, 

 dewlapped old cow that we always put first in the 

 long stable, so she could not have a cow on each side 

 of her to forage upon; for the master is yielded to 

 no less in the stanchions than in the yard. She 

 always had the first place anywhere. She had her 

 choice of standing-room in the milking-yard, and 

 when she wanted to lie down there or in the fields 

 the best and softest spot was hers. When the herd 

 were foddered from the stack or barn, or fed with 

 pumpkins in the fall, she was always first served. 

 Her demeanor was quiet but impressive. She never 

 bullied or gored her mates, but literally ruled them 

 with the breath of her nostrils. If any new-comer 

 or ambitious younger cow, however, chafed under 

 her supremacy, she was ever ready to make good 

 her claims. And with what spirit she would fight 

 when openly challenged ! She was a whirlwind of 

 pluck and valor; and not after one defeat or two 

 defeats would she yield the championship. The 

 boss cow, when overcome, seems to brood over her 

 disgrace, and day after day will meet her rival in 

 fierce combat. 



A friend of mine, a pastoral philosopher, whom 

 I have consulted in regard to the master cow, thinks 

 it is seldom the case that one rules all the herd, if 

 it number many, but that there is often one that 

 will rule nearly all. "Curiously enough," he says. 



