A flock of sheep is turned out upon a mountain-side, and in a distant part of it a "pen" is made with hurdles just large enough to hold the flock. An opening just wide enough for one sheep to pass in, at a time, is left. The shepherds in turn send their dogs out, and the dog that can drive all the sheep into the pen in the shortest time wins the prize. Each shepherd "works" his own dog, that is, he directs it with his voice, but is not allowed to help his dog in turning the sheep.
A shepherd who was watching his flock on a dark night saw them suddenly break away in all directions. Calling up his dog, he gave chase; but the sheep were wild, and he could not turn them. Soon they were all out of sight. He wandered over the mountain all night, but no trace of them could he find, until just at daybreak he came upon them, collected together—there were seven hundred of them—and there, keeping watch and ward over them, was his faithful dog. It had spent the night in gathering them together, and as they were too tired to walk home, the faithful animal sat down and waited until his master should find them at daybreak.
The dogs in the picture are the old shepherd's playmates now. They will soon be his most faithful friends and servants. Perhaps they may be the means of saving his life, for many and many a life has been saved by the intelligence and devotion of these humble creatures.
At last the brave and hardy shepherd will grow old, and the day will come when his sheep will miss him upon the mountain-side. His body is borne to its last resting-place in the peaceful old church-yard, and the neighbors all along the valley come to drop a tear upon his grave. But when all have gone their way sorrowfully, there remains one mourner who will not quit the mound of earth that covers his dear friend and master. It is no one; it is nothing; it is but a poor, ignorant, unreasoning, faithful—dog.
[HOME GYMNASTICS FOR STORMY DAYS.]
BY SHERWOOD RYSE.
Hoary old winter provides some glorious sports for young limbs, but there come days of fierce snow and rain, or cold, howling winds, when he that ventures out for pleasure is more brave than wise. Books and in-door games then claim attention; but after a whole day, or perhaps two, spent in-doors, they lose their attraction.
Young minds and bodies grow restless and weary. There is no inclination for reading, or study, or play. The blood that only the other day was rushing through the youngster's veins with such force that he jumped and yelled with delight at he knew not what, is now almost as stagnant as a pool of water in a long drought.
It was exercise that made him glad and happy out-of-doors; exercise will make him contented and able to enjoy his book and his games in-doors.