128 THE BOOK OF A NATURALIST 



old familiar rhyme wherever Mary went her little 

 lamb would go. But there was a little rift within 

 the lute which by and by would widen till it made 

 the music mute. The lamb was excessively playful 

 and frisky, but its mistress had her little lessons 

 and duties to attend to, and the lamb couldn't 

 understand it, and often after frisking and jumping 

 about to challenge the other to a fresh race in vain 

 it would run away to get up a race or game of 

 some sort with the youngest of the dogs. The 

 dogs were responsive, so that they were quite 

 happy together. 



We kept eight dogs at that time; two were 

 pointers, all the others just the common dog of the 

 country, a smooth-haired animal about the size of 

 a collie. Like all dogs allowed to exist in their own 

 way, they formed a pack, the most powerful one 

 being their leader and master. They spent most 

 of their time lying stretched dog-fashion in the 

 sun in some open place near the house, fast asleep. 

 They had little to do except bark at strangers 

 approaching the house and to hunt off the cattle 

 that tried to force their way through the fences 

 into the plantation. They would also go off on 

 hunting expeditions of their own. Strange play- 

 mates and companions for Libby, as she was 

 named, the pretty pet lamb with fleece as white 

 as snow; yet so congenial did she find the dogs' 

 society that by and by she passed her whole time 

 with them, day and night. When they came to 

 the door to bark and whine and wag their tails to 



