"
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 bear confinement as well as the cows, and as they bite
closer they can be turned out earlier, and get on well by having good
rations of corn in addition to the grass, which is thin and poor so
early in the spring. This young creature was running by his mother's
side, rather a weak-legged, poor specimen of a lamb. Every night the
flock was put under shelter, for the ground was cold, and though the
sheep might not suffer from lying out-doors, the lambs would get
chilled. One night this fellow's mother got astray, and as Ben neglected
to make the count, she wasn't missed.
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