t to the fallow pastures
which make good grazing ground. All day long the sheep have nibbled
the green herbage at their own sweet will, always under the watchful
eye of their gentle guardian. Her hands have been busy all the time.
Like patient Griselda in Chaucer's poem, who did her spinning while
she watched her sheep, "she would not have been idle till she slept."
Ever since she learned at her mother's knee those early lessons in
knitting, she has kept the needles flying. She can knit perfectly well
now while she follows her flock about. The work almost knits itself
while her eyes and thoughts are engaged in other occupations.

The little shepherdess has an assistant too, who shares the
responsibilities of her task. He is a small black dog, "patient and
full of importance and grand in the pride of his instinct."[1] When a
sheep is tempted by an enticing bit of green in the distance to stray
from its companions, the dog quickly bounds after the runaway and
drives it back to the flock. Only the voice of the shepherdess is
needed to send him hither, thither, and yon on such errands.

Now nightfall comes, and it is time to lead the flock home to the
sheepfold. The sheep are gathered into a compact mass, the ram in
their midst. The shepherdess leads the way, and the dog remains at
the rear, "walking from side to side with a lordly air," to allow no
wanderer to escape.

[Illustration: From a carbon print by Braun, Clement & Co. John Andrew
& Son, Sc. THE SHEPHERDESS]

Their way lies across the plain whose level stretch is unbroken by
fences or buildings. In the distance men may be seen loading a wagon
with hay. The sheep still keep on nibbling as they go, and their
progress is slow. The shepherdess takes time to stop and rest now and
then, propping her staff in front of her while she picks up a stitch
dropped in her knitting. There is a sense of perfect stillness in the
air, that calm silence of the fields, which Millet once said was the
gayest thing he knew in nature.

The chill of nightfall is beginning to be felt, and the shepherdess
wears a hood and cape. Her face shows her to be a dreamer. These
long days in the open air give her many visions to dream of. Her
companionship with dumb creatures makes her more thoughtful, perhaps,
than many girls of her age.

As a good shepherdess she knows her sheep well enough to call them all
by name. From their soft wool was woven her warm cape and hood, and
there is a genuine