This, you see, is a picture of goats, enjoying a feast of nice fresh young leaves from that tree which hangs over the paling. How greedily the little kid there, standing on his hind legs, reaches up to eat, while the other little fellow stands with pricked-up ears and wide-open eyes, holding a sprig of some tree in his mouth. He has heard a noise, and is on the watch, fearful lest some enemy should come, and ready to spring away in a moment.

This picture just represents a family of common European goats. They are fleet, active creatures. In their wild state they delight in climbing rocks, and bounding about at the edge of precipices, as sure-footed as the chamois. Even our tame goats here at home are so fond of climbing that they always get on to some high place, even on to the tops of houses or outbuildings, when they have a chance.

You know, children, how tame and gentle these creatures can be made, for I am sure there is scarcely one of the readers of “Wide-Awake” but has ridden in a goat-chaise at some time of his or her life; yes, and has sat up in state, and held the reins, and driven the poor little willing goat too. But I trust that the little hands have been merciful the while, and that the poor goat’s mouth has not been jerked and dragged till every tooth in its head ached. And how about the whips? Goats’ skins are not very sensitive perhaps, but I am terribly afraid that some little children whip their goats till they must smart again. Now if your consciences accuse you—and I address myself to any of my little readers—make up your minds never to be cruel to goats, or any other living creature, again. Few things are more horrid to me than a cruel child.

When I was in India I had a number of goats: they were kept to give milk. I grew quite fond of them, and they knew me so well that they would come trotting after me, baaing at me for bread or sugar, whenever I walked out in the compound. There was only one disagreeable quality about my goats: they were not sweet-smelling, and on that account were not very pleasant pets.

I have been told that at the Cape of Good Hope large flocks of these animals are kept, and they are very sagacious, requiring no goat-herd to look after them. In this respect they are very different from sheep: they start off in an orderly flock of their own accord to find their food in the morning, and they return in the same orderly fashion in the evening.

Goats are almost the only animals that will face fire. On some occasions when stables have caught fire, they have been known to save the lives of horses by setting them a good example, and boldly leading the way through smoke and flame out of the burning stables.