SHEEP.

PERHAPS the most striking characteristic of

sheep is that which the Lord describes in

John. Speaking of the shepherd, He says,

"The sheep hear his voice, and he calleth his own sheep by name, and leadeth them out. And when he putteth forth his own sheep, he goeth before them, and the sheep follow him; for they know his voice: and a stranger will they not follow, but will flee from him: for they know not the voice of strangers."

The Lord spoke of Himself and His Church, in language and imagery that were familiar to His disciples. The shepherds of the East give a name to each member of their flocks, which the sheep soon learn, and to which they instantly respond.

In the dry season many shepherds with their flocks meet at regular times around the wells. The flocks mingle at the troughs, drinking. But

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when all are satisfied, the shepherds move off in different directions, calling their sheep, which immediately follow, every one its own shepherd, with scarcely the possibility of a mistake. regard to their drinking, it is worthy of notice that sheep need very little water. When the herbage is juicy, and especially when the morning dew is abundant, sheep want no other water for weeks together. But when fed upon hay, or in the hot season in Eastern countries, when the herbage is dry, they need frequent watering.

It is not uncommon in our country for single lambs to receive names and be petted, when they become models of trustful obedience toward their · master, but remain timid towards a stranger.

Our sheep, however, rarely have a shepherd's care, being confined by walls and fences. Instead of a shepherd, they attach themselves to one of their own number, who acts as their leader, and whom they follow as trustfully as they would their master. With neither shepherd nor leader, they are distracted, and scatter in every direction.

It is a peculiarity of sheep that while they are so easily led by one whom they know, they are driven with difficulty. They huddle together as if frightened, and the more they are pressed, the more frightened they seem; but if the leaders start forward, the flock follows.

Another noteworthy trait is their memory of kindness. They never forget a little present of salt or grain, or a kind act of protection from danger; every benefit they repay with affection, confidently expecting renewals of it. Sheep are remarkable also for their mutual affection. They love to feed with their heads close together, two or three of them frequently keeping their heads so close as to seem like parts of one animal. The sudden start of a single member of a flock affects the whole, as if they were connected by nerves of mutual affection. When accidentally separated from its companions, the cries of a sheep or lamb, as it runs anxiously about, are piteous.

Affection for their shepherd is stronger than their mutual love. Him they will follow away

from their friends, and, I believe, even from their young. Their affection for their young, also, is stronger than their love for one another. The sounds of affection which a mother-sheep makes over her little lamb are of the tenderest kind. A human mother can hardly express more tender feeling.

Another characteristic of sheep is patience. When a sheep is caught by the shearer, at first there is a short struggle, till she finds that she is firmly held and cannot get away. Then she gives up entirely. Even if she be hurt, she shows neither resentment nor resistance; she is, in the hands of the shearer, perfectly resigned and patient.

Upon the wool of sheep we depend for warm clothing more than upon all other materials together. Fine, soft, long, with a useful faculty for matting or felting into a compact texture, it grows thick and heavy, and is retained by the sheep till it is a great burden to herself, evidently for the use of man.

All that she is, the sheep gives in our service,—

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her wool, her milk, her skin, her flesh, and even her bones and entrails; not a particle is useless. As is the case also with goats and cows, it is not what she does that we value, but what she is. And she is continually busy in making herself valuable, and multiplying herself or increasing her own growth for the benefit of others.

Lambs have always been regarded as emblems of Innocence; and, indeed, their active, pretty sports and gambols are nothing but sports of innocence. But the innocence of which they are forms is not the dead harmlessness of a log, nor the slow helplessness of a snail; it is helpless and dependent indeed, but it has great need and strong desire for help; and its necessity and dependence are equalled by its trustful love for him who supplies its wants.

An innocence closely resembling that of lambs we find in little children. Active dependence and loving trust are as evident in them as in lambs. Even a lamb-like fright at the call of a stranger is conspicuous in children when they first learn

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