The other day, a gentleman was driving a lady along the pretty prairie road that leads to the Falls of Minnehaha, when they saw a flock of sheep feeding beneath an oak-tree. In the centre of the field was a long trough, fed from a spring, where the lambs and sheep could drink. But they had been so thirsty, and had probably played in the water so much, that the ground was very soft and miry all about the trough. As the carriage rolled along a pitiful bleat was heard; and, looking down into the mire, the lady saw a little lamb buried almost to its neck in the black mud, and steadily sinking deeper and deeper, as it struggled to get free.
"Oh, the poor lammie," she cried.
Her friend, who was a kind-hearted man, instantly stopped, handed her the reins, jumped from the carriage, and leaped the fence into the pasture. Finding an old piece of fence rail, he laid it across the mud toward the lamb. The intelligent little beast seemed to know that help was coming, and ceased to bleat. When the end of the rail was close beside it, it tried once more to get out, but couldn't move an inch. Its good friend, however, walked out on the rail, reached forward, grasped the young horns that were just sprouting, and with a steady pull drew him out of his miry bed. The lamb gave a bound, cleared the rest of the muddy way, and with a grateful "baa, baa," skipped over the fields to its mates, a very black, but happy little creature.—Tignish News
