DANVIS FARM LIFE 67 



from the cover of the woods, her faded, ragged, 

 whitey-yellow fur is in sorry contrast with the 

 beauty of her dress when days were cold and cares 

 were hght. The farmer imitates the squeak of a 

 mouse. The sound, though shght, catches her ear 

 at once, and she draws nearer and nearer the 

 stump from which it proceeds, stopping fre- 

 quently to listen, with cocked head, till, when 

 within short range, she is cut down by a heavy 

 charge. 



In his first days the Merino lamb is one of 

 the homeliest of young things, pink-nosed, lean, 

 wrinkled, and lop-eared, and stumbling about in 

 uncertain fashion on its clumsy, sprawling legs. 

 But a month or six weeks of life give him prettiness 

 enough to make amends for the ugliness of his 

 early infancy. There is no prettier sight to be seen 

 on the farm than a party of them at play, toward 

 the close of the day, running in a crowd at the top 

 of their speed from one knoll to another, then 

 frisking a moment in graceful gambols, and then 

 scampering back again, while the staid matrons of 

 the flock look on in apparent wonder at their antic 

 sport. 



When the ditches are dark green with young 

 marsh marigolds, "good for greens," it is a pleas- 

 ant outing on a warm day, for goodwife and chil- 

 dren to go picking "cowslips," as they are sure to 

 call them. 



