Arthur. Good man, does not it hurt the sheep to be pulled about in that way?
The Man. They do not like it; but I try to hurt them as little as I can.
Arthur. Are you not afraid of cutting them with the shears, when you put them down into the middle of the wool?
The Man. We take care to feel our way, but now and then they get an unlucky snip. That man there, that stands by the door, has some tar that he puts to them if they chance to be hurt.
Arthur. Poor things! how cold they must feel when they lose such a quantity of wool!
The Man. It is time they should be shorn now, master. This is their winter coat, as one may say; and if it was left much longer, by little and little it would fall off of itself.
Arthur. Then why don’t you let it come off of itself, instead of taking all this trouble, and teasing the sheep?
The Man. My service to you, sir! What, are we to lose the wool, or to follow the sheep from place to place wherever they choose to stray, in order to gather it after them? No, no; they may suffer a little at first, but if the weather is warm they soon get over it.
Arthur. How many can you shear in a day, good man?