order ruminantia; the latter term expressing the fact, that the animal chews its food after it has been received into the first stomach. When passing through a rich grazing district, we cannot fail to be struck with the peaceful beauty resting upon such a landscape. Even the painter, with his eye trained to a careful selection of striking views, often stops to transfer to his portfolio the almost poetic tranquillity and full happiness suggested by the sight of the distant herd, resting at sunset by the silently flowing waters of some midland river. A Moreland and a Landseer can find in such scenes a thousand graceful images to delight the imagination, and fill the mind with the richness of rural life. Perhaps whilst enjoying the pleasing quietude and luxurious influence of such feelings, the reader does not care whether the animals which contribute to the beauty of such scenery are placed in the Mammalia or not, nor does the fact of their ruminating at all interfere with the current of his pastoral emotions. As to their being classed amongst the long, middle, and short horned varieties, he may either give it no regard at all, or feel as if insulted by the intrusion of such market-like notions. Perhaps, however, in his more reflecting moments, when fancy ceases to flutter her wing in the eyes of reason, he feels that no pleasure is diminished, no gush of genuine feeling checked, by knowing the exact position occupied by the ox in scientific systems. have therefore recalled to the reader's attention the classification adopted by zoologists, and also the one more common amongst practical men. The former division is based, of course, on the structure and habits of the ox, in whatever region it may be found. The latter arrangement, that by the length of the horns, may seem a very uncertain rule by which to class animals subjected to all the various treatments of the farmer and the breeder. But the reader must remember that these hard projections preserve their form amid a thousand varieties of constitution and appearance.

We

A further classification also prevails, founded on the peculiar qualities which the care and skill of particular localities have produced in the ox. Hence we meet with the Alderney, Kerry, Ayrshire, Hereford, Devonshire, and Dutch breeds. The characteristics of these afford matter of deep interest to agricultural societies, and involve an amount of science and acquaintance with the laws of animal life, which would astonish many who little dream of the deep speculations which may have been connected with the rearing of a Christmas ox. The chemical labours of Sir Humphrey Davy, and the science of Liebig may have united with the skill of the farmer to produce certain qualities of fibre in that meat in which the general observer sees little beyond a common article of diet. The reader will therefore see that the ox receives no small share of human attention, and that the great object of all this care is, the production of a larger quantity and

better kind of food. Hence the classifications adopted by farmers are not wholly matters of mere curiosity, but conducive to the more effectual treatment of the animal as a producer of food.

This great importance attached to the ox has induced many to import foreign varieties, from which our breeds have been so improved, that the grazier of two hundred years ago would be sorely puzzled at the sight of the new kinds now luxuriating in the English pastures. Some idea of the value attached to a highly developed animal may be gained from the prices sometimes given for one. Thus 1000 guineas were obtained, in the year 1810, for one bull of the celebrated Tees water breed. Perhaps the friends of human happiness, and the patrons of the arts of peace would maintain that such attentions to the due training of this animal are more advantageous to man's interest than many of the more exciting pursuits.

We must also remember that the development of the ox engages the attention not of British farmers only, but of the continental breeders, who prize their Swiss, Polish, Danish, Norman, and Italian breeds; not one of these can vie with the varieties found in this island, whether the excellence of the meat or the quantities of the milk are considered. Indeed, those merry gentlemen who express their approbation in the words of the song beginning, "The roast beef of Old England," feel a supreme contempt for the greater part of the beef exhibited on the continent. Much of this depreciation may be justified by the demerits of this foreign meat; but into this subject we shall not further enter, having already called the reader's attention to the difference between the qualities of such beef and those of the meat which adorns our markets every Christmas. Nor do we feel in the least degree ashamed to have occupied a page or two with such remarks on so vulgar a subject as food. It may not be a romantic theme, and we admit that short, long, and middle horns have not a very poetic sound; but great are the practical results connected with the necessity of providing food for the populous multitudes of our huge modern cities. This it is which calls into powerful activity so large an amount of human effort, for which the manufacturer plans, the artisan toils, and the merchant extends his operations over the globe. "What shall we eat?" is indeed a more stirring question than even, "With what shall we be clothed?" and this is the strong necessity which presses upon the millions, however unfelt by the tens in the midst of their abundance.

Let us now consider those organisations which fit the ox for the mode of life appointed for the species, and enable the animal to yield supplies of food to mankind.

The reader must have often remarked the very great importance attached by zoologists to the teeth of animals, whether these belong to the fierce Carnivora of the desert, or the domesticated

ox.

and useful ruminants. From the form and structure of the teeth we are able to infer much respecting the habits of a beast, and its appointed mode of life. Do not the sharp tearing teeth of the tiger, and the crushing grinders of the elephant, declare at once the kind of food on which those animals chiefly exist? We therefore may expect to find the same great rule of fitness illustrated in the If the reader were to inspect the jaw of one of these animals he would at once see that the crushing predominate over the cutting teeth. This species was appointed to flourish on a vegetable diet; it has, therefore, no canine teeth, but their absence is compensated by twenty-four molars, which enable the quadruped to bruise and grind its food. The reader may here ask whether such teeth may be regarded as answering all the purposes of the ox; for how can these molars suffice for cropping grass, which certainly does not require a crushing, but rather a cutting apparatus?

Let us look at an ox feeding in its meadow; surely the grass is rapidly cleared away from the surface by something in that active mouth. There is indeed a sufficient power to accomplish this result; eight cutting teeth are found in the lower jaw, the sharp edges of which divide herbage, forming so large a portion of the animal's food. The powerful muscles of the upper lip press down the grass upon the sharp edges of the teeth, so that these divide the tender substance with ease. The tongue also aids in this work, sweeping the food into the hollow of the mouth, where the teeth and muscles of the lips immediately perform the cutting work. Thus the mouth of the animal is as well fitted to its work as those of the more interesting members of the zoological kingdom.

The stomach is divided into four compartments; the first, called the rumen, receives the food as it is masticated, and it remains there till ready for the second chewing, or ruminating process. The next stomach is usually termed the honeycomb, or, in Latin, the reticulum, a term signifying a net or little bag. It may be regarded as a continuation of the first stomach, and the food remains in those two receptacles till it swells and ferments, upon which it attempts to escape, either back towards the gullet, or forwards in the direction of the third stomach. But, as the entrance to the latter is small, and the opening into the former more capacious, nearly all the food returns towards the mouth, where it is again more fully masticated. After this operation it is received into the third stomach, which is so formed that the nourishment undergoes in it an additional preparation. The further reduction of the raw vegetable is effected by the rough and strong coats of this stomach, which grasp and knead that portion of the food not yet digested. This receptacle is called, from its numerous folds, the manifold, or by some the manyplus, and performs a most important part in the animal economy. Here the vegetable substances which have passed the animal's mouth are prepared

for the final operations in the fourth stomach, called the abomasum. In this the chyle is extracted from the various matters which have been reduced to a pulp in the other receptacles. Thus, before the first elements of nutritive diet can be formed, the workings of four stomachs are necessary. The reader will perhaps smile if we talk of the history of a piece of beef; yet such an organic substance has required for its production the concurrence of so many causes, that to trace minutely the exact results of each would be a work requiring the highest degree of science. Such a review would be a history, and a curious one too, giving us strange glimpses into the mysterious workings of animal life. This supposed account of all the causes which have combined to produce the nutritive flesh of the ox, would indeed involve matters more puzzling to the philosopher than the laws of the planetary system. Nor will such a statement startle those who are acquainted with the experiments which have been recently made on this interesting subject. The researches of Liebig have opened to physiologists some view, however dim at present, of such mysteries, and have convinced the most unreflecting, that many an astounding fact is involved in the production of those fibres which we call meat. All who have pondered over this writer's work, entitled "The Chemistry of Food," will readily admit that a world of the wonderful is thrown open by experiments on such subjects as albumen, the colouring matter in flesh, the animal crystals found in muscle, the acids, and other substances existing in every piece of meat. All these elements of the animal's life are of course closely connected with the operations of the different stomachs of the ox, all four of which are absolutely required in that animal for the production of meat. Every reader who is able to examine, as Liebig has done, all the ingredients in ten pounds of flesh, will feel that the above remarks are not out of place in this account of an animal from which so large an amount of human food is derived. Even those who are utterly ignorant of such experiments, and of the manner in which they are conducted, may not regret having had their attention directed to facts so hidden from general view, and so little likely to be suggested by the sight of so common an animal.

However useful the ox may have been to men, its origin has shared the fate which belongs to that of the dog and the horse. If the question, From what species did the domesticated oxen spring? were proposed to a society of zoologists, the whole body would probably divide into three parties. The first might point to the buffalo, and bid us see in those shaggy brutes of the waste the original stock of our numerous modern breeds. Another division of the philosophers would support the claims of those wild cattle which inhabit the desolate regions of Poland, and the north-east of Germany. A third party would probably discard all references to an existing wild variety, and deduce the

origin of the ox from an extinct species; at least so far extinct as to be no longer found in its native and unsubdued state. The great supporter of this last opinion is the celebrated Baron Cuvier, whose authority would perhaps lead many to the adoption of the same conclusion. A fourth class of writers would, however, only admit the opinion, that all the wild ancestors of the tame ox have perished, with some modification. A breed of halfwild cattle are found in some parks in Scotland, where the variety is carefully preserved, as the only remaining type of the ancient Scottish ox. This creature, which may once have trampled the heather in the times of the Romans, and have wandered over the Grampians in the age of Galgacus, is now found also in some English parks in our northern counties, where their forms and habits have been noted by amateurs. These animals are whitish, and some have a short mane, resembling in this particular the wild bulls described by the ancient writers. Those who have examined these creatures in their retreats report, that their whole aspect is that of animals untamed by the yoke of man, whom they regard with feelings partaking both of dread and hostility.

The singular manner in which they prepare to attack those who approach them, by a series of retreats and advances before they finally close upon the supposed foe, is thus described by an observer:- "At the first appearance of any person they set off in full gallop, and at the distance of two or three hundred yards make a wheel round and come boldly up again, tossing their heads in a menacing manner; on a sudden they make a full stop, at the distance of forty or fifty yards, looking wildly at the object of their surprise; but upon the least motion being made, they all again turn round and fly off with equal speed, but not to the same distance; forming a shorter circle, and again returning with a bolder and more threatening aspect than before, they approach much nearer, probably within thirty yards, when they make another stand, and again fly off; this they do several times, shortening their distance and advancing nearer, till they come within ten yards, when most people think it prudent to leave them, not choosing to provoke them further; for there is little doubt but in two or three turns more they would make an attack."

These wild cattle are not admitted by all to be the descendants of the ancient British stock; some even asserting that the originals were brought from Italy.

From such disputes it is clear that it is not a very easy matter to trace our domesticated varieties to any distinct race; we must therefore leave the history of the ox in uncertainty, contenting ourselves with the advantages derived from the species as it now exists. These will be deemed by many a sufficient compensation for the obscurity which hangs over the progress of the animal from its wild to its civilised state.

Whilst

upon this

part of the subject, it will be proper to notice