ink into the ground as if all hope was gone
from its heart."

"The flies buzz about its milk, and bite its tender sides, and still it
don't mind 'em at all. It is too hard to keep it, so there!" added
Matthew.

"But, wouldn't it be better for it to keep it with us, than let it go
into the dangerous woods to be killed?" asked Julia.

"We div it more to eat," said Clinton, "and I'll tum and seep with it,
and cuddle up to its back, and Dowler shan't touch it."

"Do what you think best," said Julia; "but I _should_ like to keep it
for Clinton!"

"But how should we like to be in its place?" asked Matthew, "away from
our family, confined from our native sports, shut up from the free air
and hills, though they would feed us well and fuss over us? I want to
let down the bars now, and see how quickly it will scamper from its
prison."

"I feel for it as much as you can," answered Julia. "I feel for its
poor mother; and what would I do if Clinton had strayed like the fawn,
and we knew not where he was? But do keep it one day longer. Its
gentle looks may make Clinton more tender. I'll pull fresh clover, and
make its bed softer, and it shall be shaded more coolly from the sun."

"Let it away," said Major Fabens. "It looks so sad, may be it'll die
before morning if you keep it penned up here;" and down went the bars,
and into the house they hastened, and turned, and looked to see it leap
to the woods. But it was not away in such a hurry. It rose, and
walked gently into the house after them, so tame had it become already,
and remained a few moments, looking thanks for their kindness; Clinton
patted its soft shoulders, and kissed it tenderly, and then it walked
gently away, and vanished in the woods; leaving the beholders more
tender and kind for the visit, more in love with liberty, and more
admiring the beautiful creatures of God.

VIII.

A LAMB LOST.

The autumn time had come, and fields, and woods, and waters were lit
with its yellow beams. The blooms of spring, the splendors of summer
had departed, or were sobered for the dust. Still a beauty was on the
world. A pure, ethereal mildness breathed as from heaven, and the sun
was so kindly and glad as he rode on in glory, he gave a sweet glance
to every suppliant, whether plant or flower, or tree or man; and you
could have looked into his warm face and felt regaled by his gracious
smile. And the holy sky seemed now to stoop down and poise its breast
on