r tried the plan of chaining up
the animal on Saturday evenings, but it soon became very cunning, and
would get away whenever it had the chance. On one occasion it was
temporarily fastened to a fence-rail about mid-day on a Saturday. By
repeated jerks it loosened the rail from the mortice-holes, and dragged
it away. Upon search being made, this resolute but unfortunate dog was
found drowned, still fast to the chain and rail, in a stream about two
miles away in the direction of its old haunts. The gentleman who owned
the other dog is in England now, and went over the details of the facts
herein stated with me quite recently.

ALFRED DURELL.

A COW'S JEALOUSY OF A DOG.

[_April 30, 1892._]

As a subscriber to and constant reader of the _Spectator_, I have
derived much pleasure from the anecdotes of animal instinct, sagacity,
and emotion, which from time to time have appeared in your columns.
Perhaps you may like to publish the following instance of jealousy in a
cow; it is, at any rate, a story at first-hand, as I myself was an actor
in the affair.

A few years ago, I had a quiet milch-cow, Rose, who certainly was fond
of Thomas, the man who milked her regularly, and she also showed an
aversion to dogs even greater than is usual in her species. One night,
for what reason I now forget, I had tied up a young collie dog in the
little cowshed where she was accustomed to be milked. The following
morning, I had just begun to dress, when I heard the puppy barking in
the cowshed. "Oh!" thought I, "I forgot to tell Thomas about the puppy,
and now the cow will get in first and gore it." The next minute I heard
a roar of unmistakable fear and anguish--a human roar. I dashed down to
the spot, and at the same moment arrived my son, pitchfork in hand.
There lay Thomas on his face in a dry gutter by the side of the road to
the cowhouse, and the cow butting angrily at him. We drove off the cow,
and poor Thomas scuffled across the road, slipped through a wire fence,
stood up and drew breath. "Why, Thomas," said I, "what's the matter with
Rose?" "Well, sir," said Thomas, "I heard the pup bark and untied him,
and I was just coming out of the cowhouse, with the pup in my arms, when
'Rose' came round the corner. As soon as she see'd the pup in my arms,
she rushed at me without more ado, knocked me down, and would have
killed me if you hadn't come up." Thomas had indeed had a narrow escape;
his trousers were ripped