in fact, I receive a morning greeting from
all the live-stock about the place. I am nearly knocked down by the big
sheep-dogs; the calves come rushing with awkward gambols towards me for
a bit of the fowls' bread, whilst the dogs look out for a bone; but,
in the midst of the confusion, the poultry hold their own; indeed, an
anxious hen eager to secure a breakfast for her chicks will fly at a
big dog, and beat him away from a savoury morsel. I think I ought not to
omit mentioning the devotion of a small pig; it is an exact illustration
of the French proverb which speaks of the inequality of love, for I am
quite passive and do not respond in the least to the little beastie's
affection, which is the most absurd thing you ever saw, especially as
it proceeds from so unromantic an animal. Late in the spring (that is to
say, about November last) we were all returning from a great pig-hunting
expedition, when I saw one of the party coming down a steep hill near
the house with a small and glossy-black wild pig under each arm; he was
very proud of his captives, placed them in a box with some straw, and
fed them like babies out of a bottle. We laughed at him very much; but
when he went away he begged so earnestly that the pigs should be reared
that we promised to keep them. In a few days they became perfectly tame,
and were very handsome little creatures; and one of them attached itself
to me, following me all about, even into the house (but _that_ I really
could not stand), accompanying me in all my walks, and, as far as it
could, in my rides. Many a time have I seen poor little piggy carried
down a creek by the current, squealing piteously, but it was evidently a
case of "many waters cannot quench love," for a little further on piggy
would appear, very much baked, but holding out gallantly, till sheer
exhaustion compelled him to give in, when he would lie down under a
tussock, apparently dying; but, as we were coming home in the dusk,
Helen, my pretty bay mare, has given many a shy at piggy starting up
from his shelter with gambols and squeals of joy.

It is always a great temptation to loiter about in the lovely fresh
morning air, but I have to be dressed in time for prayers and breakfast
at nine; directly after breakfast I go into the kitchen; sometimes, it
is only necessary to give orders or instructions, but generally I find
that practice is much better than precept, and I see to the soup myself,
and make the pudding--the joi