Boswell, the friend and biographer of Johnson, when a young man, went to the pit of Covent Garden Theatre, in company with Dr Blair, and in a frolic imitated the lowing of a cow; and the universal cry in the gallery was, "Encore the cow! encore the cow!" This was complied with, and in the pride of success, Boswell attempted to imitate some other animals, but with less success. Dr Blair, anxious for the fame of his friend, addressed him thus, "My dear sir, I would confine myself to the cow."[271]
Adam Clarke and his Bullock Pat.
The Rev. Adam Clarke, LL.D., after one of his evangelical visits to Ireland, returned to his home at Millbrook. In writing to his sons he says—"Not only your mother, sisters, and brother, were glad to see me, but also my poor animals in the field, for I lost no time in going to visit them. I found the donkey lame, and her son looking much like a philosopher; it was strange that even the bullock, whom we call Pat, came to me in the field, and held out his most honest face for me to stroke it. The next time I went to him he came running up, and actually placed his two fore-feet upon my shoulders, with all the affection of a spaniel; but it was a load of kindness I could ill bear, for the animal is nearly three years old; I soon got his feet displaced; strange and uncouth as this manifestation of affectionate gratitude was, yet with it the master and his steer Pat were equally well pleased; so here is a literal comment on 'The ox knoweth his owner;' and you see I am in league with even the beasts of the field."[272]
Samuel Foote and the Cows Pulling the Bell of Worcester College Chapel.
Samuel Foote was a student at Worcester College, Oxford, and when there he practised many tricks, and soon found out what was ridiculous in any man's character.
His biographer[273] records one of these tricks which he played off on Dr Gower, the provost of the college. "The church belonging to the college fronted the side of a lane where cattle were sometimes turned out to graze during the night, and from the steeple hung the bell rope, very low in the middle of the outside porch. Foote saw in this an object likely to produce some fun, and immediately set about to accomplish his purpose. He accordingly one night slyly tied a wisp of hay to the rope, as a bait for the cows in their peregrination to the grazing ground. The scheme succeeded to his wish. One of the cows soon after smelling the hay as she passed by the church door, instantly seized on it, and, by tugging at the rope, made the bell ring, to the astonishment of the sexton and the whole parish.
"This happened several nights successively, and the incident gave rise to various reports, such as not only that the church was haunted by evil spirits, but that several spectres were seen walking about the churchyard in all those hideous and frightful shapes which fear, ignorance, and fancy usually suggest on such occasions.
"An event of this kind, however, was to be explored, for the honour of philosophy, as well as for the quiet of the parish. Accordingly the doctor and the sexton agreed to sit up one night, and on the first alarm to run out and drag the culprit to condign punishment. Their plan being arranged, they waited with the utmost impatience for the appointed signal; at last the bell began to sound its usual alarm, and they both sallied out in the dark, determined on making a discovery. The sexton was the first in the attack. He seized the cow by the tail, and cried out, 'It was a gentleman commoner, as he had him by the tail of his gown;' while the doctor, who had caught the cow by the horns at the same time, immediately replied, 'No, no, you blockhead, 'tis the postman, and here I have hold of the rascal by his blowing-horn.' Lights, however, were immediately brought, when the character of the real offender was discovered, and the laugh of the whole town was turned upon the doctor."
The General's Cow.
At Plymouth there is, or was, a small green opposite the Government House, over which no one was permitted to pass. Not a creature was allowed to approach save the general's cow. One day old Lady D—— having called at the general's, in order to make a short cut, bent her steps across the lawn, when she was arrested by the sentry calling out and desiring her to return. "But," said Lady D——, with a stately air, "do you know who I am?"—"I don't know who you be, ma'am," replied the immovable sentry, "but I knows you b'aint—you b'aint the general's cow." So Lady D—— wisely gave up the argument and went the other way.[274]