SIXTH ANNUAL YEAR BOOK — PART VIII. 667 



of his mind, so to say. in which the plans for the next season are culti- 

 vated and ripened for use, to the saving of time, and the very best 

 application of thought and experience for the use in the future. In fact, 

 no one who lives as he should can do his work, of whatever kind it may 

 be, without much thoughtful study of the conditions of it, and timely- 

 preparations for this doing of it in good season and the best manner. 



CLEAN SHEDS. 



There is an ancient story to the effect that a two-legged puppy once 

 asked a wise man what was the best kind of scent a gentleman should 

 carry about his person to make himself agreeable. He was told that 

 "a gentleman should have no scent about his person, at any time, or 

 under any circumstances." Now we may sometimes apply some things 

 to other circumstances, and so with this, apply it to the general care of 

 a flock in the winter, as to the sheds and feed pens for the sheep. It 

 is only a dirty sheep that can be detected by the strong odor from its 

 filthy fleece. The well kept sheep need have no smell at all, even in its 

 fleece, and the winter pens, properly littered, may be as free from dis- 

 agreeable odor as the shepherd's kitchen may be. The sheep is a clean 

 animal, and will not willingly lie down on filth. It may even be possible 

 to keep sheep in a pen all the time and keep them quite clean and yet 

 never clear it out all winter. This is truly so, for it has been the custom 

 with the writer, and the pet ewe has even had the entrance at times into 

 the kitchen, and has had its cake given by the hand of the mistress, and 

 departed without leaving a trace of disagreeable odor. The pen must be 

 kept quite dry, plenty of fresh short litter, forest leaves — the natural bed- 

 ding of sheep — make the best kind for the pen, and there will be no need 

 to clear the pen if plenty of fresh leaves are added often enough any 

 time during the whole winter. 



CLEAN FEET. 



The weakest part of a sheep is its foot. Speaking, we think quite 

 reasonably, this was not made for a domesticated sheep, but it is the 

 best possible foot for an animal which made its home on the inaccessible 

 rocks in mountain countries, where it was first established. We have 

 civilized the sheep, and now must take the best possible care of its feet 

 or it will not be able to do its best for us. 



If we study the sheep's foot we find it admirably made for the use of 

 a mountain climber, which it is naturally. The foot is cupped, and the 

 edges are sharp when the foot is naturally kept, for the sides of the hoof 

 are worn off as they reach the sole and the sharp edged cupped hoof can 

 walk on the most slippery places, and climb steeply sloping rocks, taking 

 firm foothold wherever it may leap. 



Now we take this mountain climber, and keep it in a damp soft 

 meadow. Or we may confine it in a shed, having a floor sodden with 

 urine and soft dung. What a contrast with the natural conditions! 

 How can we expect such a foot to keep its natural condition under 

 these unnatural provisions? Then we must come to the relief of the 



