"The ram--the d----d black ram--kill him--shoot--don't let him live a
minute!"

Crayon leveled his piece and fired. The offender made a bound and fell
dead, the black blood spouting from his forehead in a stream as thick as
your thumb.

"There, now," exclaimed the squire, with infinite satisfaction, "you've
got it, you ungrateful brute! You've found something harder than your
own head at last, you cursed reptile! Friend Crayon, that's a capital
gun of yours, and you shot well."

The squire dropped the stones which he had in his hands, and looking
back at the dead body of the belligerent sheep, observed, with a
thoughtful air, "He was a fine animal, Mr. Crayon--a fine animal, and
this will teach him a good lesson."

"In all likelihood," replied Crayon, dryly, "it will break him of this
trick of butting."

Not long after this occurrence, Squire Hardy went to hear an itinerant
phrenologist who lectured in the village. In the progress of his
discourse, the lecturer, for purposes of illustration, introduced the
skulls of several animals, mapped off in the most correct and scientific
manner.

"Observe, ladies and gentlemen, the head of the wolf: combativeness
enormously developed, alimentiveness large, while conscientiousness is
entirely wanting. On the other hand, look at this cranium. Here