No. 5. 



Dialogue bettveen a Fa/her and Son. 



139 



For the Farmers' Cabinet. 



Dialogue ticttvecn a Father and Son* 



Frank. — Father, I was yesterday assisting John 

 Lambert to drive his father's sheep to the ujiper pas- 

 ture, and I could not help thinking of our late conver- 

 sation respecting the most profitable breed of sheep for 

 a farmer. In his small flock you might find almost 

 every variety, from the short-wooled to the long wocjI- 

 ed, with legs and bodies of almost any lengfh, and 

 necks longer than either! John told me. the long. 

 necked animals were called Aldermens' sheep, for it is 

 a common idea in London, that on the day aftiT an 

 Alderman's dinner, necks of mutton rise in pricM, in 

 :onsequence of the number that are then required for 

 broth and thin soup, for those vvlio had gormandized 

 ;he day before! Some of these sheep certainly afford 

 i rare opportunity for the anatomical lecturer, for 

 iheir bones arc atiout as easily defined as those of a 

 :arcass fiesh from the hands of the Ravens. I now 

 lee the truth and justice of the remark, that "a pru- 

 len( man will advise with his land on the most prolit- 

 ible breed of sheep for a farmer." 



Father.— True ; that might be called a practical les- 

 ion, not easily to be forgotten. During a pretty long 

 ife, I have had opportunities of becoming acquainted 

 vith many of the different breeds of this most valuable 

 mimal, and, as it might afford you instruction as well 

 is amusement, I will endeavor to recollect some of the 

 nost remarkable features of their character, 



Frank.—" Features of character" — that reminds me 

 'f a paper in the No. for September, of our favorite 

 nontbly visitor, " 7'Ae Farmers' Cal>inct," under the 

 lead, "A Source of Comfort." I had no idea that we 

 vere so much indebted for our comforts, and even ne- 

 essaries, to the simple and common article, ^anne/.' 

 lut now, that the mornings and evenings grow cold, I 

 .m reminded daily of the gratitude which I owe, first, 

 " Him who doeth all things well," and ne.xt, to the 

 nteresting animals, who furnish us with the means of 



defying the storm. " I intend to copy the latier part 

 f that paper into my " book." It runs thus—" It is 



most remarkable property of flannel, that although 

 t prevents the ingress of cold, it seems, in a measure, 

 facilitate the egress of heat, and is, on that account, 

 dmirably calculated to form the clothing of thnt ani- 

 lal, on whom alone it might be said to he found, and 

 fhich, without this wise ordination of " Him who 

 oeth all things well," would be totally unable to 

 nove or e.xist in hot weather, under a covering from 

 Dur to nine inches long, of a substance which, of the 

 enure even of gauze, will enable a man to defy the 

 lements! It is truly a wonderful ordination of Nature, 

 rhich ought to call forth, every day of our lives, the 

 acritice of a grateful heart ! but the blessings of life, 

 oming in the humble guise of a flannel shirt, are very 

 pt to be overlooked— so true is it, that our greatest 

 lessings are of everyday occurrence, and so common 

 hat, like the air we br«atho, we might be said to re- 

 pire them— too often with careless and unthankful 

 eartsi" 



Father. — Good — And now, as you remember I said, 



a prudent farmer will advise with his land on tht^ 

 ubject of the best breed of sheep." I will relate a cir- 

 umstance which fell under my immediate observa- 

 ion. You have heard, that the Welsh mountains are 

 amous for feeding a small race of sheep, whose car- 

 asses always bring a very high price in the market, 

 t a certain season of the year. October, wh>'n they 

 re slaughtered without other feeding, their fle.sh par- 

 aking of the flavor of the finest venison, from their 

 aving fed on the wild thyme and heath, growing on 

 articular spots of these natural pastures : they are 

 ever slaughtered until four or five years old, when 

 he mutton is very dark colored and full of gravy of 

 he richest flavor — lit food for an Alderman ! 



Now, it so happened, that a very lariio tract of this 

 I'ild mountain land came into the hands of a first rate 

 armer, from one of the deep feeding counties in Eng- 

 and, who could not bear the idea of rearing sheep, 

 ven by the thou.ir.nd, to weigh no more than si.x or 

 even pounds per quarter, and he therefore resolved to 

 ntroduce the improved South Down breed, of si.xteen 

 r eighteen pounds a quarter — determined, as he ex- 

 pressed it, " that they shall do." Now, the climate of 

 his part of Wales is wet, ahnost incessantly ; and the 

 Velsh breed of sh'-ep, expressly calculated for such a I 



climate, are covered with a loose and rather long wool, 

 which, separating along the back, falls over the sides, 

 carrying off the rain, and preventing it from penetrat- 

 ing to the skin. I'lio South Downs, on the contrary, 

 have e.xtremely thick, close and fine fleeces ; not suf- 

 ficiently long in the .staple to divide and fall over; so 

 that, in such long and continued rains, as are experi- 

 enced in Wales, their wool becomes full of water, 

 which penetrates to the skin, and soon causes the dis- 

 order called the Pelt rot, in which, if you take the 

 sheep by the back, the wool will separate from the 

 skin, and come off by haiidsful — their fleeces are so 

 close and thick, they cannot shake the water from 

 them in rainy weather; whilst the native breed will 

 relieve themselves in this manner, most readily. 



I remember this flock of South Downs, aliout two 

 thousand in number, and the finest sheep of that breed 

 I ever saw, coming to the mountains about Michael- 

 mas, when the hills were covered with grass, of which 

 there was no fear of want, even in the longest winter ; 

 and the owner had not, therefore, made any prepara- 

 tion for feed during that season, e.xcept, in mowing a 

 portion of the long grass of the mountain, during the 

 suminor. From the first day of their arrival, it was 

 apparent to every one, that these sheep would starve 

 before they would eat a herbage, so entirely diffi^rent 

 from that sh.ort and sweet bite, which they had left on 

 the Chalk Hills of Sussex, where, it is a proverb, "a 

 sheep will grow fat on an egg shell full of grass in the 

 day ;" and on turning them into a pasture of five hun- 

 dred acres, 1 do not think they ever stepped foot on fifty 

 acres of the whole: unfortunately, too, the weather set 

 in wet, before they had recovered from a journey of 

 one hundred and fifty miles ; and sick and weary, they 

 lay down amidst the long wet grass of the pasture, 

 from which they could not be roused but by th» dogs ; 

 while the rain, falling incessantly, would oftentimes 

 form pools of water under them, in which they would 

 lie and soak I In a very short time the wool began to 

 separate from the skin, and many died, even before 

 they had lost much of their good plight, which they 

 had brought from their native hills. 



Fiatik. — But ought not the owner immediately to 

 have removed them, when he foresaw the certain de- 

 struction of the flock ? 



Father. — Undoubtedly, he ought— but his pride would 

 not allow him to do so. The Welsh farmers had fore- 

 told the event, from the moment they arrived in the 

 country, aii^ were hovering around the dying flock, 

 like carrion crows, enjoying the frightful catastrophe, 

 and laughing contemptuously at the Englishman, who 

 thought he knew so much more than they, of the cli- 

 mate and country, of which they and their forefathers 

 had been the possessors forages; and the owner of 

 the flock had been heard to declare, he would lose every 

 one f)f them, before he would remove them ; adding, 

 " they -will and they shall do." In a very short time, 

 they began to die by hundreds, and the shepherds had 

 more than they could do, to skin the dead animals ; at 

 last, their xkins were no longer worth the labor of tak- 

 ing off, and they were then tumbled into holes, dug to 

 receive them, as fast as they died! I remember, after 

 a dreadfully stormy night, I went to see the flock early 

 in the morning, and I shall never forget the horrid 

 scene — thirty five had died during the night, and twice 

 that number never again rose from their dying bisds of 

 long, wet grass! many of these last, were lying under 

 the dead sheep, still breathing; and the stench which 

 arose from their putrid bodies, even before their death, 

 was terrible. [ could not bear the sight or smell of 

 mutton for a long time after. 



Frank. — Horrible ! but what was the end of all this 

 misery ? 



Father. -\t only ceased with the end of their lives; 

 I do not believe that a single sheep escaped. On the 

 morning above mentioned, I was struck with the dif- 

 ference, which then appeared between this flock, and 

 one of native home-bred Welsh sheep, in the same 

 pasture— these last had found shelter in the glens, an I 

 behind the rocks of the mountain, and on my approach- 

 ing them, they would bound out of their hiding places, 

 shake the water from their fleeces and set off on the 

 gallop, to regain their companions, all life and vigor I 

 and one of them having been left on this side a 

 brook, which had become swoln to a torrent by the 

 night rain, on running to it, hesitated a moment, and 

 the next, plunged into it, and swam over to join hia 

 fellows, only stopping to shake the water from his 



