“Will you please tell me a story about sheep?” said the little girl.
“If you like a laughable story, I can tell you one which I was thinking of not a minute since. It illustrates their habit of imitation. It is often exceedingly difficult to drive a flock of sheep through a narrow passage to which they are unaccustomed; but if one of them can be got through, the rest follow without the slightest trouble.
“A butcher’s boy was driving some fat sheep through Liverpool; but they ran down a street where he did not wish them to go. The boy saw a man before him sweeping the street, and called loudly to him, —
“‘Stop them! Turn them about!’
“The man began to run from one side of the street to the other, always opposing himself and his broom to them when they tried to force a passage through; but the sheep became more and more excited, and pressed forward with increasing impetuosity.
“At last, one of them came right up to the man, who was stooping down, as if he were going to jump over him, which so frightened the fellow that, instead of rising, he seized the short broomstick, with one hand on either end, and held it over his head. He remained a few seconds in this position, when the sheep made a spring, and jumped fairly over him, without touching the broom.
“The first had no sooner done this, than another followed, and then another, in quick succession, so that the man, perfectly confounded, seemed to lose all recollection, and remained in the same attitude until the whole flock had jumped over him, not one of them attempting to pass on either side, though the street was quite clear.
“All this took place just after a wet day, so that the man was entirely bespattered with mud and dirt before they had all passed; and it would be impossible to conceive a more ludicrous appearance than the poor fellow made on that occasion.”
CHAPTER IV.
ATTACHMENT TO HOME
“That’s a real funny story,” exclaimed Minnie, her eyes sparkling with mirth, “only I can’t help pitying that poor man.”
“I can recall another, though a sadder incident,” continued Mr. Sullivan, “illustrating the same quality.”
“In 1808, an accident happened in England to some sheep belonging to Mr. Cooper, of Huilston Hall, who had intrusted them to the care of a boy for that day, in the absence of the shepherd, who was assisting in getting in the harvest.
“About the middle of the day, the sheep broke from their pasture, when the thoughtless boy drove them back in great haste over a narrow and deep ditch. The leading sheep fell in, and the remainder, passing over them, smothered twenty-five sheep and forty lambs, the whole being worth near four hundred dollars.
“In the same book, there is also an account of a flock near Guildford, consisting of more than eight hundred sheep, in one pasture. A dog one day jumped the hedge, and so frightened them that one of them jumped into an adjoining field, which was on a great descent, when the rest of the flock followed each other over the gap of the hedge so fast that one hundred and twenty-three of them were killed.”
“There is one quality or characteristic of the sheep which will interest you, Minnie,” said her father, “and that is their love of home. Perhaps Mr. Sullivan will tell you some stories about that.”
“I should be very glad to hear them, and about the little lambs.”
“A great deal can be said upon that,” returned the shepherd, cheerfully. “So strong is their attachment to the place where they have been bred, that I have heard of their returning to the Highlands of Scotland from a distance of three hundred miles. When a few sheep accidentally get away from their acquaintance in the flock, they always return home with great eagerness and perseverance.
“The most singular instance that I know of is that of a black ewe, that returned from a farm in the head of Glen Lyon to her home in Tweeddale, and accomplished the journey in nine days. She was soon missed by her owner, and a shepherd was despatched in pursuit of her, who followed her all the way to Crieff, where he turned and gave her up. He got intelligence of her all the way, and every one told him that she absolutely persisted in travelling on – she would not be turned, regarding neither sheep nor shepherd by the way.
“Her poor little lamb was often far behind, and she had constantly to urge it on by impatient bleating. She unluckily reached Stirling on the morning of a great annual fair, about the end of May, and judging it imprudent to venture through the crowd with her lamb, she halted on the north side of the town the whole day, where she was seen by hundreds, lying close by the roadside.
“But the next morning, a little before the break of day, when all was still, she was seen stealing quietly through the town, in apparent terror of the dogs that were prowling about the street. The last time she was seen on the road was at a toll bar near St. Ninian’s; the man stopped her, thinking she was a strayed animal, and that some one would claim her. She tried several times to break through by force, when he opened the gate for travellers; but he always prevented her, and at length she turned patiently back. She found some means of eluding him, however; for she reached home on a Sabbath morning early in June, having left the farm at Glen Lyon either on Thursday afternoon or Friday morning, a week and two days before.
“I suppose her former owner thought she had earned a right to remain on her native farm, for he paid the Highland farmer the price of her, and she remained with him till she at length died of old age, in her seventeenth year.”
At this moment, company was announced, who remained till evening, so that poor little Minnie, after waiting a long time for her stories, was obliged to go to bed without them.
“Never mind, dear,” whispered her father, noticing her look of disappointment; “I have a book with beautiful anecdotes of sheep and lambs, which I will read to you when I come home to-morrow night.”
In the morning, Mr. Sullivan found time to pay Nannie a visit, and pronounced her in a thriving condition. He recommended Mr. Lee to have her wool sheared off, as it was so long as to make her uncomfortable during the heat of summer.
Nannie was now a year old, and was a fine, large lamb, with her speckled face looking very bright and intelligent, and, as the gentleman said, did credit to the care of her shepherdess.
Soon after breakfast, Mr. Lee and his visitor went to the library on business, and Minnie did not see them again until just as they were getting into the carriage to drive away. She waited with some impatience for her father to return, and wished she knew what book her father referred to as having the stories in it, so that she might have it ready for him.
Her mother, finding that she was restless and discontented, advised her to apply herself to her letters, which she was beginning to learn.
If the truth must be told, the little girl was not fond of study; but when her mother reminded her that most children of her age could read and spell with ease, and that, if she was diligent, she herself would soon be able to read stories, and not be dependent on any one else, she thought it would be a good thing to learn. For half an hour, she forgot her desire for her father’s return in finding A’s and E’s in books to match letters on her cards.
Evening came at last, and Mr. Lee with it. He looked very smiling, and told his wife his sister was in the city, and was coming in a few weeks to visit them. The moment he saw Minnie’s expectant face, he told her he would be ready in five minutes to attend to her, and then invited Mrs. Lee to accompany them to the library, to hear some stories from the Shepherd’s Calendar, and other books.
In a few moments, Minnie was seated on her father’s lap, her whole countenance beaming with pleased anticipation.