_Sheep-Shearing._
The following day being appointed for sheep-shearing, a number of men and
boys assembled at an early hour in the great barn. Arthur and Charles
went with their grandpapa to see the process, and were greatly pleased
with the hurry and bustle of the scene. The sheep were penned in a fold
close to the barn, and were fetched away by the lads one by one, as fast
as the shearers were ready for them. A few days before, they had all
been washed at a mill-pond, so that their fleeces were beautifully white,
and they were so thick as to make the animals appear almost twice as
large as they really were.
[Illustration: _Page 28._
_Sheep Shearing._
_London. Published by W. Darton Junʳ. Octʳ. 5, 1815._]
Arthur observed with surprise, that the poor creatures were perfectly
quiet during the time of their being shorn; although they struggled with
terror when they were first brought out, and bleated piteously as soon as
they were set at liberty.
He wondered at the ease with which the men laid them on the ground, and
afterwards turned them over from side to side, as was necessary in the
course of the shearing. After watching one of the shearers for some time,
he began the following conversation with him:—
_Arthur._ Good man, does not it hurt the sheep to be pulled about in that
way?
_The Man._ They do not like it; but I try to hurt them as little as I can.
_Arthur._ Are you not afraid of cutting them with the shears, when you
put them down into the middle of the wool?
_The Man._ We take care to feel our way, but now and then they get an
unlucky snip. That man there, that stands by the door, has some tar that
he puts to them if they chance to be hurt.
_Arthur._ Poor things! how cold they must feel when they lose such a
quantity of wool!
_The Man._ It is time they should be shorn now, master. This is their
winter coat, as one may say; and if it was left much longer, by little
and little it would fall off of itself.
_Arthur._ Then why don’t you let it come off of itself, instead of taking
all this trouble, and teasing the sheep?
_The Man._ My service to you, sir! What, are we to lose the wool, or to
follow the sheep from place to place wherever they choose to stray, in
order to gather it after them? No, no; they may suffer a little at first,
but if the weather is warm they soon get over it.
_Arthur._ How many can you shear in a day, good man?
_The Man._ Why, fifty, more or less. The quickest hands can finish one in
ten minutes.
Charles during this time was helping a little girl to pick up the loose
locks of wool that were scattered over the floor. His brother turned
round, and saw how he was employed. What should _he_ do? Every one was
busy besides himself, and he could not bear to be the only idle person.
A message came to fetch away one of the women, whose task it was to
roll up the fleeces and pile them together on a heap. Arthur offered to
take her place; and, after a few trials, he learned to tie them up very
dexterously. He continued at this employment for some time, and rejoiced
to find himself of some use.
Mr. Mansfield at length called the two boys to go away. They immediately
obeyed; and Charles, taking hold of his grandpapa’s hand, asked him if he
did not think a sheep-shearing was a most charming thing.
_Grandpapa._ It does very well in its season, my dear boy. Wool is so
useful, that the shearing-time always gives me pleasure.
_Arthur._ What shall you do with it, grandpapa?
_Grandpapa._ I shall sell it to the wool-stapler; and, after it has
passed through the hands of different manufacturers, you may perhaps meet
with it again in some shop, though so altered as not to be known for the
same. It will then be in the shape of flannel, worsted, cloth, or perhaps
some kind of stuff.
“That is all very droll,” said Charles. “But when will there be another
sheep-shearing, grandpapa?”
“Not till this day twelvemonth, my dear,” returned Mr. Mansfield. “Wool
does not grow very fast. In two or three weeks you will see the sheep
covered with a little short wool; and the traces of the shears will then
be worn away. As winter comes on, it grows thicker and longer; but that
is not a time to rob them of their fleece. At last the year will come
round, and then they will be again ready for the shearer.”
“I am fond of sheep,” said Arthur; “and I like little lambs, they look so
innocent.”
_Grandpapa._ They are gentle, timid creatures, and require the care of
man more than almost any other animal; as they have neither strength to
defend themselves when attacked by their enemies, nor swiftness to run
from danger.
_Arthur._ And they pay us for the care we take of them, by letting us
have their wool?
_Grandpapa._ Indeed they do, Arthur; but not by their wool alone, for
they are useful in more ways than one. Mutton, which you know is the
flesh of the sheep, is one of the most wholesome meats we have; some
parts of the fat are melted down to make tallow. The skin is sometimes
made into parchment, and sometimes into leather, for gloves, shoes, and
other things: and parts of the guts are twisted into strings for musical
instruments.
_Charles._ What enemies have sheep, grandpapa? You have said they can’t
defend themselves against their enemies.
_Grandpapa._ Wherever there are wild beasts, Charles, they have many
enemies, as they all prey upon the sheep. Eagles will attack young lambs;
so will foxes; and even dogs, if they are fierce, and not properly
trained.
_Arthur._ But I have often seen a dog along with a flock of sheep.
_Grandpapa._ Yes; the breed that is called the shepherd’s dog is very
useful in managing them. They seldom bite, but will fetch those back
that have gone astray; and by barking at them alone, guide the whole
flock much more easily than a man can do. When they have done their
business, you may see them come back to the shepherd, and follow him as
quietly as possible.
In the evening a supper was provided to refresh the shearers after their
hard day’s work, consisting of legs of mutton, and plum-puddings, with
plenty of good ale. All was jollity and mirth. During the day a constant
buz of many voices might have been heard even at some distance from the
barn; but the business they were engaged in did not allow time for much
talk. At night, on the contrary, they had nothing to do but to divert
themselves, and every tongue was heard. They told merry stories without
end, sang songs, and drank to the health of their kind master. Mr.
Mansfield himself staid with them for some time, encouraging them to be
cheerful, and walked about to see that every body was helped. At length,
he left the party, followed by his grand-children, who immediately
retired to rest, highly satisfied with the pleasures of the day.