you could put on a beast in a given time without his dying of apoplexy, and not at all to show how much wool you could grow, the judges could not say anything if there was no rule against it. So with many misgivings the lambs were shorn and seemed to like it. They grew and grew, and a month before the show were heavier than any Cotswold lambs we had ever heard of. Of course they were kept very quiet, no one was allowed in the shed, and no one knew what they weighed except the shepherd, the bailiff and myself. We did not want to frighten other exhibitors and lose the glory of beating them. The trouble now was to keep them firm on the back and active and sound on their legs. Week by week they were trimmed over with the shears under our approving eyes. No lady could have paid more attention to her coiffure. A little hit off here and a little puff lip there, so as to ensure the symmetrical sausage-like shape so dear to the heart of the British stock-breeder, and to deceive the eye, if not the hand, of anyone but a man experienced himself in such arts.
When at last we called in under promise of secrecy a well-known judge of Cotswold sheep to select the three best out of the ten which remained in the favoured number, and told him their respective weights, he admitted that they were as good as, if not better than, any he had seen before. After long deliberation, a great deal of handling, we picked out three which were as much alike as possible, and as firm on the back as any sheep so overladen with fat could be, and it was agreed that they would be very hard to beat.
At last the Saturday arrived on which they had to go up to London in a horsebox all to themselves, the shepherd with his boxes of cake and his sacks of mangels and corn in charge. A van was engaged at Paddington and we went off to the Agricultural Hall at Islington as full of anxiety mixed with hope as ever an actress on her first appearance in a leading part could have. A fourth lamb was taken as a reserve in case anything should go wrong with the others before the Monday, and I took leave of them at the door of the ball after telling the shepherd not to let them out of his sight until after the judging.
As soon as the doors were open on Monday I came in burning with curiosity to see who were our opponents and found four or five well- known old hands whose shepherds, though evidently a little put out by the new dodge of showing shorn lambs, professed to regard our chance of beating them with scorn. When, however, they were led out, their beautiful topknots of wool hanging over their faces like old sheep, we could see that the judges were impressed by their size and weight, and at last we led them back in triumph with the first prize. Next we had to compete with the wethers and ewes of the same breed for the breed cup, which is given to the best pen of each breed, and again we were triumphant. Last of all came the competition for the best pen of sheep in the show, and as at that time short-wooled and long-wooled sheep competed in the same class I knew that our chance was hopeless, for, unless the long-wooled judge was a man of unusual obstinacy and the long-wooled sheep of quite extraordinary excellence, the champion cup always went to a short- wooled breed. However, to win the breed cup on the first time of showing was beyond my fondest hopes, especially as I had succeeded in showing
