THE KID, 
ee. 
furze. Further on, at some distance, rose a steep 
hill, the summit of which was a bare craggy rock, 
gcarcely accessible to human feet, Capriole 
ranging at his pleasure, often got upon the com- 
mon, and was pleased with browsing the short 
grass and wild herbs which grew there, Still, 
however, when his mistress came to see him, he 
would run bounding at her call, and accompany 
her back to the farm. 
One fine summer’s day, Sylvia, after having 
finished the businessof themorning, wanted to play 
with her kid: and missing him, she went to the 
side of the common and called aloud, Capriole! 
Capriole! expecting to see him come running to 
her as usual. No Capriole came. She went on 
and on, still calling her kid with the most endear- 
ing accents, but nothing was to be seen of him. 
Her heart began to flutter. “ What can become of 
him? Surely somebody must have stolen him,— 
or perhaps the neighbours’ dogs have worried 
him. Oh my poor Capriole ! my dear Capriole! 
I shall never see you again!” —and Sylvia began 
to weep. 
She still went on, looking wistfully all around, 
and making the place echo with “ Capriole! Ca- 
priole! where are you, my Capriole?” till at length 
she came to the foot of the steep hill. She climbed 
up its sides to get a better view. Nokid was to 
be seen. She sat down and wept, and wrung her 
hands. After a while, she fancied she heard a 
bleatinz like the well-known voice of her Capriole, 
She started up, and looked toward the sound, 
which seemed a great way over head. At length 
she spied, just on the edge of a steep crag, her