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366 civilized country. One might well fear to wander deep into it, for it seemed endless and pathless, and fitted only for the lair of wild beasts. And then there were wild beasts in it, which had perpetuated their race from pre-historic times. They were the genuine wild cattle of the old British breed, a kind of white buffaloes which, doubtless, in their day and generation, had supplied the Druids with raw beef-steaks. They were in a word just such looking animals as you would expect to find on such pasturage: and I am not sure that it would not in the end turn civilized cows into like barbarism in a few generations. They are quite untameable, and spurn the advances of human interest. Their keepers must keep at a respectful distance from their long horns; for they still, with all their wildness and independence, are glad of a little human help and attention. But the touch of the human hand is utter abomination to them. They prefer death to such a familiarity. We were told that they often drop their calves far out in the cold, stormy wilderness. The little things would frequently perish if not brought to shelter; but their mothers would abandon them for ever if the keeper touched them with his hand. So, to avoid giving them this unpardonable offence, a couple of men run two fork-handles under the calf, and, one behind and the other before, carry