playing together, frisking, dancing, leaping, butting, and crying
in the young voice, which is so pretty a diminutive of the full-grown
bleat. How beautiful they are with their innocent spotted faces, their
mottled feet, their long curly tails, and their light flexible forms,
frolicking like so many kittens, but with a gentleness, an assurance of
sweetness and innocence, which no kitten, nothing that ever is to be a
cat, can have. How complete and perfect is their enjoyment of existence!
Ah! little rogues! your play has been too noisy; you have awakened your
mammas; and two or three of the old ewes are getting up; and one of them
marching gravely to the troop of lambs has selected her own, given her
a gentle butt, and trotted off; the poor rebuked lamb following meekly,
but every now and then stopping and casting a longing look at its
playmates; who, after a moment's awed pause, had resumed their gambols;
whilst the stately dame every now and then looked back in her turn, to
see that her little one was following. At last she lay down, and the
lamb by her side. I never saw so pretty a pastoral scene in my life.*

*I have seen one which affected me much more. Walking in the Church-lane
with one of the young ladies of the vicarage, we met a large flock of
sheep, with the usual retinue of shepherds and dogs. Lingering after
them and almost out of sight, we encountered a straggling ewe, now
trotting along, now walking, and every now and then stopping to look
back, and bleating. A little behind her came a lame lamb, bleating
occasionally, as if in answer to its dam, and doing its very best to
keep up with her. It was a lameness of both the fore-feet; the knees
were bent, and it seemed to walk on the very edge of the hoof--on
tip-toe, if I may venture such an expression. My young friend thought
that the lameness proceeded from original malformation, I am rather
of opinion that it was accidental, and that the poor creature was
wretchedly foot-sore. However that might be, the pain and difficulty
with which it took every step were not to be mistaken; and the distress
and fondness of the mother, her perplexity as the flock passed gradually
out of sight, the effort with which the poor lamb contrived to keep up
a sort of trot, and their mutual calls and lamentations were really
so affecting, that Ellen and I, although not at all lachrymose sort of
people, had much ado not to cry. We could not find a boy to carry the
lamb, which was