Have you a cow?  People who live in cities very seldom indeed have one; but in the country, many, who are not rich, contrive to keep one; and a more gentle, quiet, patient animal is not to be found.  Jack’s mother was a poor Irishwoman, but she had two cows, and sold their milk to support her family.  I have often met her, stepping so stately and steadily, because she had a brim-full pail of milk balanced on her head, and never even put up her hand to support it.  Jack was very fond of his mother; and next after his parents, brother, and sisters, he certainly loved the cows.  It was his business, when quite a little fellow, to serve up to them the pail of hot potatoes in winter; and many a walk he took to the green fields where they pastured in summer, to see that all was safe and right about them.  Three years after his leaving home, we also kept a cow; and Jack insisted on having the care of it, and milking it himself.  It was quite a lesson to see how kind and thoughtful the dumb boy was about the poor cow:  and what a happy life she led under his management might be easily known by her being always good-tempered and fearless.  Often, when standing on the lawn, feeding my chickens, I have been surprised by finding her gently rubbing her horns against my shoulder, and asking to be petted, as every animal will ask when encouraged.  She gave a great deal more milk than any one expected—­for kind usage is a wonderful help in making any creature thrive; and I never shall forget the joyful looks of Jack, when, one morning, he came jumping and skipping to me, spelling as fast as he could, “Cow baby—­cow baby.”  He did not know the right name for a calf, and our cow had a very pretty one, born in the night.

Then Jack’s sweet disposition showed itself farther in the care that he took not to distress the poor creatures more than was necessary.  He did not ill-use the cow for being unwilling to leave her young one, and very eager to return to it again; nor did he frighten or hurt the tender little calf for crying and struggling to get to its mother.  In all these things there is opportunity for being merciful and kind:  and because Satan knows that the Lord hates cruelty, and will punish those who afflict his helpless creatures, there he chooses these occasions to tempt people into the wanton wickedness of offending the Most High by the abuse of such power as he has intrusted them with.  Jack knew it.  I have seen the colour rise to his face, with the effort that he made to overcome the impatience that was provoked by the eagerness of the animals to break through the fence which separated them; but he did overcome it, and said with a smile, “Poor baby cow!  Jack not hurt—­no; God see!” Ah, it is a happy and a blessed thing to be able to rejoice that God sees us!  Less than three years after that, Jack was called to appear before the Lord; and I am sure the recollection of having purposely given pain to others never disturbed the quietness of his