in the habit of quenching its thirst at "Nick's Water-Pot,"—a well on the summit of Parlick. The great merit of this wonderful cow was, that to all comers she gave an abundant supply of milk. Hence her fame spread; and from the heights of Browsholme, the brows of Leagrim, the valley of Chipping—from lofty Bleasdale and lowly Thornley, from haughty Parlick and humble Goosnargh, came milk-seekers in plenty, and none went empty-handed away. No matter how large the pail, it was always filled to the brim. But judging from the size of the rib, the cow must have been of gigantic size—a very Brobdignagian beast! The rib is still about a yard in length, and several inches in thickness; but within the memory of many residing in the district, it was more than twice its present size. Besides the decay consequent on time and exposure to the elements, the rib has suffered greatly from the ruthless hands of relic lovers or despoilers, who have cut and carried off portions of the rib as memorials of the Old Dun Cow. In short, the rib in its pristine proportions must have been "very like a whale," as Polonius says—at least, a whale's jaw-bone. Can this have been the origin of the quaint ballad which runs thus?—
"Did you ever, ever, ever, ever, ever, ever, ever, ever, ever, ever, ever, ever, ever see a whale?"
"No I never, never, never, never, never, never, never, never, never, never, never, never, never saw a whale;
But I've often, often, often, often, often, often, often, often, often, often, often, often, often seen a cow,
Yes, I've often, often, often, often, often, often, often, often, often, often, often, often, often seen a cow."
To return to the legend of the Old Dun Cow; it may be conjectured that, with such ribs, and giving an ever-flowing, never-failing supply of milk, it must have needed a
