Tender Friend





Soft precious lamb

Run and jump, so much fun

You are Jesus little lamb

To scamper through the land.





  Sheep Follow


A SHEPHERD was once driving his flock from the Piedmont mountains to the plains of Italy, along a road white with pulverized lime-stone, and glaring beneath the beams of a southern sun, blazing in its meridian force. He was a tall and stately man, arrayed in the costume of the country ; his large hat shadowed a face grave and intelligent; his purple jacket, slung around his neck, formed a cradle for a new-born lamb, while two others, but a little older, were fastened in his rough plaid, between his shoulders. In one hand he held the shepherd's rod, a long, light reed, by which he guided the flock, gently touching them when they wandered, or were heedless of his call. He carefully led them on,   occasionally pausing and leaning on his staff, until some straggler joined his companions, or while carefully adjusting the helpless creature he carried in his bosom. The hungry sheep strove to crop the withered weeds and dusty herbage on the borders of the road, but the shepherd would neither let them eat nor rest; he urged them forward, and, bleating and discontented, they were obliged to leave their self-chosen food, and obey his voice and follow him.

The road here branched off in another direction; the poor sheep saw nothing before them but the dusty path and the withered weeds; but the shepherd looked beyond. Sloping down from the direct road was a green nook, overhung by an acacia hedge, protected from the heat by the high bank above it, and water from an unfailing spring ran into a pool beneath. Bleating with   delight, the weary sheep seemed to find life and vigor at once, and entering on their pleasant pasture they forgot the troubles of the way. The shepherd watched their   enjoyment with evident satisfaction. As he walked among them, examining them  

individually, he counted them over; not one of them was missing. He had something better for them than they would have chosen for themselves, yet how they had murmured all the way. Here rested the flock no" more weary and dusty; the lamb lay by their mother's side, and here the shepherd himself reposed beneath the trees.

What a beautiful illustration is this of 

the great Shepherd and his sheep. " All we 

like sheep have gone astray " in the paths 

of death we were straying. Some of us 

were on the lonely mountains, some were in the tangled thicket, vainly seeking for something  to quench our thirst and satisfy our hunger, when we heard the Shepherd's gentle  voice saying, " Follow me." We gladly followed him for a short time, but soon we grew heedless, and lingered behind, and be- to murmur beneath the chastening rod  murmur about the long, weary journey, and murmur because he would not let us eat of our self-chosen food, little thinking that was longing to give us to eat of the bread of life, and drink at the living fountain, if we would but follow him. But when we did eat of that bread and drink of that fountain, we felt to love our Shepherd King, who maketh his flocks to lie down at noon, and we look forward to that time when the " tabernacle of God shall be with men, and "he will dwell with them." Then we shall know even as we are known, and adore the wisdom of Him who " fed his flock according  to the integrity of his heart, and guided them by the skillfulness of his hands."

 Psalms 78:72. 

Domestic Journal.







THE very smallest of all sheep is the tiny Breton. It is too small to be very profitable to raise, for it cannot have much wool; and as for eating, a hungry man could almost eat a whole one at a meal.

It is so small when full grown that it can hide behind a good-sized bucket.

It is a dear little creature for a pet, for it is very gentle and loving, and because it is so small, is not such a nuisance about the house as was the lamb that belonged to a little girl named Mary.

It would need to be a very large little girl—a giant girl, indeed—who could take an ordinary sheep in her lap and cuddle it there; but any little girl could find room in her lap for a Breton sheep.

When it has been brought up as a pet in the house, it soon learns to tell whether its human friends are happy or not. If any person whom it likes is very much pleased about anything, and shows it by laughing, the little sheep will frisk about with every sign of joy; but if the person sheds tears, this tiny friend will show its sorrow in an equally unmistakable way.  A kind word and loving caress will also fill it with. happiness, while a cross word or harsh gesture will cause it pain.

Though it may be frolicking with the children, if any one should treat it roughly, it would go right off and lie down sorrowfully by itself.

This tiny sheep many, many years ago was the native sheep of Great Britain. It has been displaced by other breeds, till it has almost disappeared.  I have been told that occasionally 'a few of them may be seen on the barren grounds between the British and Bristol channels. We like to have children read stories of little lambs, for we would that they might grow up as innocent and free from guile as they.



R. M.