He used to let his flock run till the fields were covered with snow, and bite as close as they liked, till there wasn't a scrap of feed left.

Then he would give them an open shed to run under, and throw down their hay outside.

Grain they scarcely knew the taste of.

That they would fall off in flesh, and half of them lose their lambs in the spring, was an expected thing.

He would say I had them kennelled, if he could see my big, closed sheds, with the sunny windows that my flock spend the winter in.