THE SHEEP AND THE SCAVENGER.
"Why, Minnie," said Mrs. Lee, one morning a few weeks later, "here is a
story very much like that of our pony and lamb. If Poll will stop
chattering, I will read it to you."
"In December, 1825, Thomas Rae, a blacksmith in Hardhills, purchased a
beautiful lamb, of the black-faced breed, from an individual passing
with a large flock. It was so extremely wild that it was with great
difficulty separated from its companions. He put it in a field in
company with a cow and a little white pony. It never seemed to mind the
cow, but soon manifested fondness for the pony, who showed the
friendship to be reciprocated.
"They soon became so attached that they were constantly to be seen in
company, whether the pony was used for the saddle or its small carriage,
exciting a smile from those who witnessed the unusual spectacle. When
the lamb was approached, she would run under the pony for protection,
when she would gaze around with looks of conscious security. At night,
the lamb always repaired to the stable, and reposed under the manger,
where it felt the pony's breath.
"When separate, which only happened as it was effected by force, the
little creature would raise the most plaintive bleatings, and the pony a
responsive neighing.
"On one occasion, they both strayed into an adjoining field, in which
was a flock of sheep. The lamb joined the flock at a short distance from
the pony; but as their owner removed him, it immediately followed,
without the least regard to its own species.
"Another time, when passing through a large flock, it followed its
favorite without showing any signs of a desire to remain with its
natural companions."
"Somebody must have known about Nannie, and put it in a book," cried
Minnie, greatly excited. "I wonder who it was."
"I presume there are many such cases," answered the lady, smiling; "but
you will be pleased to know that Mr. Sullivan will probably be here this
evening; and you can ask him as many questions as you wish."
The little girl clapped her hands, and then ran out to the kitchen, to
tell Anne the good news.
When her father returned, she looked anxiously into the carriage, to see
whether he had any one with him, and was pleased to find that a
dark-complexioned, black-whiskered man occupied the other seat.
"I have prepared Mr. Sullivan for a regular catechising," exclaimed Mr.
Lee, springing from the carriage, and kissing Minnie's glowing cheek.
"You may show him Nannie, too; and he will tell you how to manage her."
They were soon seated in the parlor, when Mr. Lee said,--
"I have often thought of that beautiful passage in which our Saviour
describes the Jewish shepherd: 'The sheep hear his voice, and he calleth
his own sheep by name, and leadeth them out; and he goeth before them,
and the sheep follow him, for they know his voice.'"
"It is astonishing," remarked the visitor, "what power a humane shepherd
has over his flock, when he has once acquired their confidence. This
method of giving names to the sheep, as well as to the leaders, is very
important. They soon learn the name given them, and will readily come at
the familiar call.
"I read lately an account given by a gentleman who had been travelling
in Greece, and he asked if it was customary there to give sheep names.
'Yes,' was the answer; and soon after he had an opportunity of seeing
for himself. Passing a flock, he asked the shepherd to call one. He did
so; and it instantly left its pasture and its companions, and ran up to
the shepherd with signs of pleasure, and with a prompt obedience which I
had never seen excelled in any other animal.
"I have heard, too, that an English shepherd knows every sheep in his
flock. By feeding the lambs from the hand, and other kind treatment, he
accustoms them to come at his call, and gradually to understand and
follow his directions, when the rest of the flock will immediately
follow.
"In France, the shepherd selects certain sheep from the flock, gives
them names, and teaches them to come by offering them a piece of bread.
When he wishes to lead his flock through a defile, or to make them
change the direction in which they are proceeding, he calls one of
these selected sheep. Those that are nearest follow immediately, and the
others are not very far behind; and so, by degrees, the whole flock is
disposed to obey the call of the shepherd."
"Since you were here last," rejoined Mr. Lee, "I have been reading
Youatt's admirable treatise on sheep. He has an instance very similar
concerning the flock of Messrs. Nowlan, Kilkenny. In 1820, they had six
hundred pure Merinos, all under the charge of one man. Not even a dog
was permitted; the whole care devolved on the shepherd.
"At the sound of his horn, all the sheep flocked around him if he
stopped, and followed him if he moved forward.
"Salt was the means by which this docility was acquired, a small
quantity of which he carried about with him, distributing a little as a
reward for their obedience to his call.
"The Kilkenny farm is divided by the King's River, which at times is so
rapid and impetuous as not to be fordable by the strongest horse. A
plank bridge, eighteen inches wide, and one hundred and ten feet long,
with a rail on one side, is thrown across for the convenience of those
who may be desirous of crossing the stream.
"When it is necessary to remove the sheep from one side of the river to
the other, the shepherd crosses the plank, sounding his horn, and each
individual of the flock passes regularly after him in single file. Even
in the highest floods, there has never occurred one single casualty."
"That reminds me," said Mr. Sullivan, "of the flocks in the Island of
Cyrnon, which, on the landing of a stranger, always flee away into the
interior of the country; but as soon as the shepherd blows his horn,
they scamper around him, and forget every fear.
"But all this time I am quite unmindful of my young friend, who has not
yet asked one question."
"I want to know whether it's easy to be a shepherdess," said Minnie,
blushing; "because I should like to be one; only I should want the kind
of sheep that would own their lambs, and love them."
Both Mr. Lee and his visitor laughed heartily.
"Sheep have one trait, and a very marked one," said Mr. Sullivan, "which
makes it difficult to keep them in order. That is, their habit of
imitation. On my farm, the boundary one side is a stone wall, and it
seems almost impossible to keep them from going over it. There is no
better feed in my neighbor's pasture; but for some reason the leader
runs over, and then the whole flock follow. They know better, and they
seldom attempt it when Moses, the dog, is in sight; for sheep soon learn
the exact boundaries of their enclosure: from being driven back so
often, they find how far they can roam, and remain in peace.
"So, Miss Minnie, unless you can run very fast, and like to keep on the
chase pretty much all day, I think you would find it easier to take care
of your pets at home than to be a shepherdess."
"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."