had unfortunately fallen into the brook, whose steep banks prevented it
from making its escape. Fortunately the water, though up to the little
creature's back, was not sufficient to drown it. I rescued it with much
pleasure, and to the great gratification of its affectionate mother, who
licked it with her tongue to dry it, now and then skipping about, and
giving vent to her joy and gratitude in most expressive gambols.

"Though differing in many respects from the sheep, the goat bears so
strong a resemblance to that animal, that, now that I am speaking of it,
I may as well tell you a story or two about the goat. It will save my
returning to it afterwards."

"Very well, Uncle Thomas."

"The goat is in every respect more fitted for a life of savage liberty
than the sheep. It is of a more lively disposition, and is possessed of
a greater degree of instinct. It readily attaches itself to man, and
seems sensible of his caresses. It delights in climbing precipices, and
going to the very edge of danger, and it is often seen suspended upon an
eminence overhanging the sea, upon a very little base, and sometimes
even sleeps there in security. Nature has in some measure fitted it for
traversing these declivities with ease; the hoof is hollow underneath,
with sharp edges, so that it walks as securely on the ridge of a house
as on the level ground.

"When once reduced to a state of domestication, the goat seldom resumes
its original wildness. A good many years ago, an English vessel
happening to touch at the island of Bonavista, two negroes came and
offered the sailors as many goats as they chose to take away. Upon the
captain expressing his surprise at this offer, the negroes assured him