Instead of running across the corner of the Common in the evening, Charley and Polly, with his little brother sitting in her lap, came riding up to the cottage in the cart with the butcher; for Mr. Page had to call at the great farm-house on his way through Greenham about some fat calves he wanted to purchase of Charley's father. Polly asked if the children might ride with him, for she was very anxious about Johnny's pet lamb; and, as she said to Charley, "I shan't feel that it's quite safe until I see Mr. Page drive back without it." Johnny's father was too lame to assist in getting the sheep and lamb into the cart, so Polly and Charley drove them out of the small close behind the cottage, while Johnny minded the little boy, who sat with his tiny arms round the lamb's neck, kissing it, and saying "so pitty," for he could not talk plain enough to say "pretty." "Surely this can't be the same lamb I bargained for a week ago," said the butcher, as he was about to lift it into the cart; "why, it's got four or five pounds more meat on his back. You must give Johnny this shilling for himself. It's a much fatter lamb than I took it to be," and he gave the shilling for Johnny to his mother, after looking around, and not seeing the boy. Having paid the mother for the sheep and lamb, he drove off, and the poor dumb animals stood quiet, and seemed as happy in the cart as children who are only going away for a drive. How different they would look when put into the shed adjoining the slaughter-house, where so many sheep and lambs had been driven in to be killed. What a blessing it is that we do not know beforehand what is going to happen to us, for if we did, how wretched we should feel, counting the hours and days until the evil befell us, and living a life of misery all the time. Nor is it ourselves alone that would be made miserable, but our parents, and all who love us; so that, however painful death may be, it is one of God's greatest mercies not to let us know when death, which comes to all, will come. This is not hard to understand, if you will be very still, and forgetting everything else, think about it. The two sheep and the little lamb, as they were driven along the pretty country road in the butcher's cart, could have no more thought that they were carried away to be killed, than you would that some terrible accident might happen to you, if taken out for a ride. No sooner had the butcher driven off than Polly ran into the little meadow, clapping her hands, and exclaiming, "All right, Johnny! he's gone!" then she stooped down and kissed the pretty lamb, which began to lick her brown, sun-tanned cheek, as if to show how grateful it was; for the few kind words she had uttered were the means of saving it from the butcher's knife.