Joe would settle him, wouldn't you, Joe?" and Mr. Wood looked behind the log at me.
I got up and put my head on his arm, and he went on: "By and by, the Southdowns will be changed up here, and the Shropshires will go down to the orchard. I like to keep one flock under my fruit trees. You know there is an old proverb, 'The sheep has a golden hoof.' They save me the trouble of ploughing. I haven't ploughed my orchard for ten years, and don't expect to plough it for ten years more. Then your Aunt Hattie's hens are so obliging that they keep me from the worry of finding ticks at shearing time. All the year round, I let them run among the sheep, and they nab every tick they see."
"How closely sheep bite," exclaimed Miss Laura, pointing to one that was nibbling almost at his master's feet.
"Very close, and they eat a good many things that cows don't relish—bitter weeds, and briars, and shrubs, and the young ferns that come up in the spring."
"I wish I could get hold of one of those dear little lambs," said Miss Laura. "See that sweet little blackie back in the alders. Could you not coax him up?"
"He wouldn't come here," said her uncle, kindly, "but I'll try and get him for you." He rose, and after several efforts succeeded in capturing the black-faced creature, and bringing him up to the log. He was very shy of Miss Laura, but Mr. Wood held him firmly, and let her stroke his head as much as she liked. "You call him little," said Mr. Wood; "if you put your arm around him, you'll find he's a pretty substantial lamb. He was born in March. This is the last of July, he'll be shorn the middle of next month, and think he's quite grown up. Poor little animal! he had quite a struggle for life. The sheep were turned out to pasture in April. They can't
