  Little Nannie Tompkins was the daughter of a poor laborer, who lived in a humble cottage, by the roadside, near a small market-town, in the north of England. Nannie had two brothers older than herself, away at service, and a sister about two years younger, a gentle, pretty child, whose name was Olive—but she was always called Ollie. The Tompkinses were the tenants of Farmer Grey, a good, amiable man, kind to the poor, and very tender to little children, birds, and animals—to everything that needed help and protection. One chilly day, in the early spring, as Nannie was out in the fields, searching along the brooks for cresses, and under the hedges for the first violets, she met Farmer Grey, carrying a little lamb in his arms. He said he had found it in the field, curled down against its dead mother, and perishing with hunger and cold. Seeing Nannie looking wistfully at the lamb, he said— "If I will give you this poor little creature, will you feed it, and keep it warm, and try to raise it?" "Oh, yes, indeed I will—thank you kindly, sir," she joyfully replied; and he put the lamb in her arms, and she wrapt it carefully in her cloak, and ran home with it. Nannie's mother warmed some milk for the new pet, and fed him. Then she made him a nice soft bed near the fire, and before night he stopped shivering, and grew so strong that he was able to stand on his slender The children called this lamb, Snowdrop, both because he was so snowy white and delicate, and because he had been found in the early spring. Well, Snowdrop grew and flourished, and proved himself to be a remarkably clever and lovable pet. He was very fond of the children, especially of Nannie, who was more tender and motherly toward him than her thoughtless little sister. And, next to her parents, and brothers, and Ollie, Nannie certainly loved her lamb. She fed him, washed him, played with him, and took him with her wherever she went. At night, he slept on his little bed of straw and old clothes in her chamber; and, in the morning, when he awoke, he would go tap-tapping over the floor to her bedside, put up his nose against her cheek, One sunny May morning, as Nannie and Ollie sat before the cottage door, with their playmate, a neighbor's daughters—pretty Susan Smith and her little sister Mollie, came up, and stopped for a moment to speak to the children. These girls were going to market; Susan, with a cage full of young pigeons on her head, and Mollie carrying a basket of fresh eggs. Susan was a merry, teasing girl, and she began to advise Nannie to take the lamb to market, and sell him. "Seeing that he is so fat and clean, he will be sure to fetch a good price," she said. Nannie was shocked at this, and throwing her arms about her pet, she cried— "I wouldn't sell my darling Snowdrop to a naughty, cruel butcher, for all the world! I'll never, never let him be killed!" While the girls were talking, young Robert Grey, the farmer's son, rode up on his pretty black horse, and stopped too; it may be because of Susan Smith—for the two were famous friends. He heard Nannie's reply about the lamb, and looking down kindly upon her, said— "If you are ever obliged to part with your pretty pet, my little girl, you need not sell him to the butcher, but bring him up to the farm-house, and I will buy him, and he shall not be killed." Nannie thanked him very prettily, and he rode away with the merry market girls. A few days after this, little Ollie was taken down with a fever, and was very ill for several weeks. At last, she began to get well very slowly; and then came the hardest time for her mother and sister—for she was fretful, dainty, and babyish, and cried a great deal for luxuries which her poor parents were not able to purchase for her. One "There, mamma, I've done it! I've gone and sold Snowdrop—now take the money and buy Ollie the strawberries and other things." Mrs. Tompkins kissed and blessed her "good little daughter," and went away and bought the fruit; and Ollie ate it eagerly and went to sleep very happy. You may be very sure that Nannie did not eat any of the berries. She felt as though the smallest one among them would choke her. She did not utter a word of complaint, however, and kept back her tears till she went up to bed, alone. Then she could scarcely say her prayers for weeping, and when she came to repeat her sweet little evening hymn, she said the first lines in this way— "Jesus, tender Shepherd, hear me, Here she quite broke down, and was only able to sob out— "Oh, yes, dear Jesus, do bless poor Snowdrop, for he's away off among strangers! Please to make people good to him—for you used to love little lambs and children too." Just at this moment, Nannie heard a plaintive familiar cry—"Ma! Ma!" She sprang up from her knees, and ran to the window—and there, right down before her, in the moonlight, On the lamb's neck hung a little letter, saying that he was sent back as a present to Nannie, from Robert Grey. I need hardly tell you that Snowdrop was never sold again. He lived with Nannie till she was a woman, and he a very venerable sheep; and then he died a peaceful death, and was buried in the garden, and real snowdrops grew over his grave. |
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