Julia put on her hat, her tippet and her gloves, and ran as fast as she could down the lane. When she reached the spot where the flowers grew, she was tired and out of breath. She sat on the bank, for a few minutes, to recover her breath: she was soon rested. Then she jumped up, and began to look about her. She looked round for the largest and freshest flowers, as she wished to have a beautiful bow-pot. She had only gathered three primroses, a few violets, and had her hand on a fine wild hyacinth, to pluck it, when she heard a rustling noise behind her: she looked to see what occasioned it. As she turned her head, something large, white, and heavy, fell over the hedge, from the field on the other side, rolled down the bank, and lay quite still. Julia wondered what it could be. At first she thought it was a large stone; but she did not see or hear any person who could have rolled it over the hedge; and stones cannot move by themselves. She stood looking towards the place where the white thing lay, unable to decide what it was. In a few moments she heard the faint bleat of a lamb. Now she guessed it was a poor lamb, which had been frightened. She supposed that, in its haste to get away from the cause of its terror, it had fallen down the high bank into the lane. She feared it was much hurt; for it cried, as if it was in pain, and did not attempt to move. She went up close to it: it lay quite still: she patted its back—it bleated piteously—it tried to lick her hand. She was surprised to find it so gentle, till she observed a blue ribbon about its neck: then she thought it was Miss Beauchamp’s pet-lamb. She had been told that Miss Beauchamp had a favourite lamb, which was so tame that it fed out of her hand. She recollected, likewise, that the field next the lane belonged to Sir Henry Beauchamp; that his house was very near, a few yards to the right. She therefore felt quite sure it was Miss Beauchamp’s lamb. Julia was sorry the poor animal was hurt: she wished somebody would come and take it home; but she feared, that if she ran to tell the people at Sir Harry Beauchamp’s to fetch it, the church-clock would strike seven before she had finished gathering her bow-pot. She turned to go back to the flowers. The poor lamb bleated again, very piteously, and seemed, to implore her to have compassion for its sufferings. Julia stopped: she said, “Mary is kind and humane: she would not leave any animal in distress, without trying to assist it. Besides, when I read, to-day, how God made the world and all things in it, mamma told me he was good and merciful; that he loved all the creatures he had made: she said too, we ought to endeavour to imitate him, that he may love us.—No; God will not love me, if I am cruel to this poor little lamb. Well, I will go and tell somebody at the house where it is. Perhaps, after all, I shall have time to get a small bow-pot.”
Away Julia ran; but in a moment she heard the barking of a dog: she saw the lamb make an effort to rise and run away; but it could not stand, it fell down directly.
“Poor little lamb!” said Julia, “how terrified it is: no doubt that is the dog which hunted it. If I go away, the cruel dog may find it, and worry it to death, before any person can come to its assistance. Oh! I see the dog running across the field yonder. What can I do? I will try to carry the lamb home: it is only a little way to Sir Henry Beauchamp’s house.”
Julia returned to the lamb, and after two or three endeavours, succeeded in getting it up into her little arms. It was very heavy: it was as much as she could carry. When it bleated, she said, “Do not cry, pretty little lamb: I try not to hurt you; but you are very heavy, and if I do not hold you tight, you will fall to the ground. I am carrying you home, where you will be taken care of. I will make haste: I will walk as fast as I can—but you are very heavy.”
“I will walk as fast as I can—but
you are very heavy.”
The lamb could not understand what the little girl said; however, it was accustomed to be petted and caressed, therefore her kindness and fondling soothed and pleased the poor animal. It lay quietly in her arms: it neither kicked nor struggled to get away.
Julia walked as fast as she could; yet she got on very slowly, for she was soon tired; so tired, that she would have sat down to have rested, had she not feared the dog might jump from the field into the lane, and follow her. Besides, if she did not make haste, there was no chance of her having time to gather the primroses before seven o’clock. She went on, therefore, only stopping a moment, now and then, to recover breath. At length she reached the end of the lane. She turned to the right; but before she had gone as far as the gate that opened into Sir Henry Beauchamp’s park, she saw several people come through it, and come towards her. A little girl ran on before the rest of the group: when she was near Julia, she exclaimed, “It is my lamb! The moment I saw you, I knew you! Dear, naughty lamb, why did you run away from me?—Thank you for bringing him to me. You look very tired. Give him to me now, if you please: I will carry him to his own house.”—“Take care,” replied Julia, “how you hold it; for it is badly hurt, I fear. It is not a naughty lamb, I believe. I think it has been hunted by a dog. I was gathering flowers in the lane, when it fell over the hedge: its leg is cut so badly, that it cannot stand. See, how it bleeds! I was coming to tell you or somebody to fetch it; only I saw a dog at a distance, and I feared he would bite it, if I came away, so I have brought it with me. I made haste, lest the dog should overtake us, if he got into the lane. See, he has found us out! Look, he is running towards us!—I am glad the lamb is safe. No, no, dog; you cannot get the lamb now.”
By the time Julia had finished speaking, Sir Henry and Lady Beauchamp, with two servants, who were all in search of the lamb, came up to her. “See, mamma,” said Miss Beauchamp, “this kind little girl has brought my lamb home. He is very much hurt. Poor Bello! you are very heavy: I can hardly hold you. Mamma, there is the dog which frightened Bello!”
Lady Beauchamp desired one of the servants to carry the lamb into the house, and the other to find out to whom the dog belonged, and to tell his master to keep him at home, that he might not do any more mischief.