CHAPTER II.
THE LITTLE LAMBS.
Anne was standing on some high steps, putting up clean curtains in hermistress's room; and Minnie stood watching her, and wondering how soonshe would be done, so she could tell about the lambs. At last shesaid,--
"Anne, if I stand up in a chair, I could hold the nails and give them toyou."
"That's true for you, miss," answered the girl; "and it's a much betterway than kapeing them in my mouth."
"And you can talk better," urged Minnie, with a roguish look.
Anne laughed outright. "Ah, it's the story ye're after, I see; and sureye're welcome to all I can tell you.
"You know my mother was English, and my father Irish. I was born in thegreat city o' Dublin; but after my father died, which was long enoughbefore I could tell my right hand from my left, I went with my mother toher home in England. Of coorse, I knew nothing of that except byhearsay, which is no evidence at all; but well I can remember, when Iwas old enough, I was sent out on my grandfather's farm, to mind thesheep; I had a dog, Rover, to go with me, and a little crook, becauseI was a shepherdess, you know; and I used to carry dinner enough in mypail for Rover too, for he had to work hard, poor fellow!
THE YOUNG SHEPHERDESS.]
"I liked it very well at first, for the lambs looked so pretty, skippingaround the dams; and the air was so fresh and bright; but I was a verylittle girl; so I soon grew tired, and left all the care of the sheep toRover. He flew from one end of the field to the other, chasing themaway from the hill where they used to wander and get lost.
"When I saw the lambs drinking their mother's milk, I thought it must bevery nice; and so I lay down on the grass, and drank some too; and Iliked it so well that I used to drink every day, until grandfather foundit out, and forbid me, because the lambs would not have enough.
"By and by I grew up to be a big girl, and then, what with tending thesick sheep, and bringing up the cossets, I had plenty to do. Grandfatherhad five hundred ewes. He was a rich man, and every body thought well ofhim. When the lambs began to come, there were some of the ewes thatwould not own them."
"I know about that, Anne," said Minnie; "mamma told me."
"Well, when there are two, this is often the case; or sometimes theshepherd finds the mother has not milk enough for two, even if she wouldlike them. Did your mamma tell you that some kinds of sheep are muchbetter nurses than others?"
"No, I think she did not know that. She says she don't know much aboutsheep."
"Very likely, as she was not brought up with them. There is a kindcalled Merinos, which are very bad nurses. Grandfather wouldn't havethem on that account, though they have very fine wool, which sells for agood price. Out of a hundred lambs, they wouldn't bring up more thanhalf.
"They are poor, tender little things, any way. Well, I mind the timewhen there was a great storm, and grandfather had to be up all night,housing the poor craturs; for the lambs were coming fast. A little pastmidnight, mother called me, and there we sat till morning, before ablazing fire, warming up one and another, as he brought them in. I satdown on a cricket, and took two or three in my lap at once, and huggedthem up to my bosom. When they began to twitch, and we found they mustdie, we put them on the great hearth rug, and took more. Sometimesthey'd just lie down and go to sleep, and when we had time to look atthem, they'd be stiff and cold; and then again they would cry out like ababy. It used to make my heart ache to hear them."
Anne had now finished her work, and came down from the steps.
"I don't think I should like to be a shepherdess," said Minnie,sighing.
"O, yes, you'd like it mightily. Such a time as that only comes once ina great many years. And then, when it's warm summer weather, and thelambs frisk and frolic about their mothers in the field, and you justsit down and play on the accordeon, while the dog keeps the flock inorder,--O, there's no work so pleasant or so healthy as that!"
When Mr. Lee returned from the city, Minnie was ready with herquestions about sheep.
"I want to know all I can about them," she exclaimed.
"There are few stories that can be told about sheep," he answered,cheerfully; "for it must be confessed that they are far inferior to thehorse, dog, and many other animals, in intelligence and sagacity. Thesheep has few marked traits, except its meekness, and its naturalaffection for its young. Still, when I remember that the lamb wasselected before all other animals for sacrifice, and as a type of Himwho is called 'the Lamb of God,' and who is to take away the sins of theworld, I feel a deep interest in its welfare.
"The sheep, too, is one of the most useful animals, its fleece or woolbeing used as a covering to man, and its flesh for food. It was onlyyesterday I read the well-established fact that, from one pound ofsheep's wool a thread was spun so fine that it reached to the almostincredible distance of ninety-five miles, while one of ordinary finenessreached twenty-six miles. This covering grows so thick in winter that itenables them to bear cold which would be fatal to other animals. Theyappear to know, too, when a storm is approaching, and take refuge undera sheltering hill or some projecting cliff.
"One very curious thing is, that they can live under the snow for a longtime. Mr. Sullivan, who is a shepherd, you know, told me a circumstancewhich occurred in his own experience.
"There was every appearance of a storm, and he, with his men, drove thesheep early into the fold. In the morning, on counting them, he foundthere were seven valuable ewes missing. It had snowed all night, and wasstill snowing, when he started out in search of them. But nowhere couldthey be found. The storm continued four days, and the snow had reached adepth very uncommon; but day after day the search was renewed. At last,however, it was given up; when one day a woodcutter, in going over astone wall which lay almost entirely concealed, fell through the snow,and found himself in the midst of the lost sheep. Their breath hadrendered the crust, which was firm enough to bear his weight in otherplaces, so thin here that it would not sustain him. They seemed livelyand well, having found enough dead grass under the snow to sustain life.
"There is an instance very similar to this in one of my books, which Iwill find and read to you."
"In the winter of 1800, a sheep was buried in the snow near Kendal, andremained there thirty-three days and nights, without the possibility ofmoving, and yet survived.
"In the same winter, a sheep near Caldbeck, in Cumberland, was buriedthirty-eight days; when found, it had eaten the wool completely off bothits shoulders, and was reduced to a skeleton; but with great care itrecovered."
"Mr. James Hogg, the Ettrick Shepherd, gives a most interesting accountof eight hundred ewes that were buried in the snow. Some of them he andhis fellow-servants succeeded in getting out the first day; but thesecond there were but few of them to be seen, except the horns of somestragglers. The men went about, boring with long poles, but with littlesuccess, until their dog found out their difficulty, and flying to aspot, began to scrape away the snow. From this time, by his keen scent,he marked faster than they could get them out, and by his skill savedtwo hundred, though some were buried in a mountain of snow fifty feetdeep. They were all alive, and most of them recovered their strength."