Two Velvet Babies

1900

An almost forgotten book, save among scholars, is "Lays of the Deer Forest," by two brothers, John Sobieski and Charles Edward Stuart. It was written by men who lived all the year round among the wild animals of the Highlands, and learned to love them as only the familiar can. One of the most beautiful descriptions of these abundant nature-notes is that of a doe, which was seen for several mornings, "restless and anxious, listening and searching the wind, trotting up and down, picking a leaf here and a leaf there." After her short and unsettled meal, she would take a frisk round, leap into the air, dart into her secret bower, and appear no more until the twilight.

One day I stole down the brae among the birches. In the middle of the thicket there was a group of young trees growing out of a carpet of moss which yielded like a down pillow. The prints of the doe's slender, forked feet were thickly traced about the hollow, and in the centre there was a velvety bed, which seemed a little higher than the rest, but so natural that it would not have been noticed by any unaccustomed eye.

I carefully lifted the green cushion, and under its veil, rolled close together, the head of each resting on the flank of the other, nestled two beautiful little kids, their large velvet ears laid smooth on their dappled necks, their spotted sides sleek and shining as satin, and their little delicate legs, as slender as hazel wands, shod with tiny shoes as smooth and as black as ebony, while their large dark eyes looked at me with a full, mild, quiet gaze, which had not yet learned to fear the hand of man.

Still they had a nameless doubt which followed every motion of mine. Their little limbs shrank from my touch, and their velvet fur rose and fell quickly; but as I was about to replace the moss, one turned its head, lifted its sleek ears toward me, and licked my hand as I laid their soft mantle over them.

I often saw them afterward, when they grew strong and came abroad upon the brae, and frequently I called off old Dreadnaught when he crossed their warm track. — Youth's Companion.