Chapter Ten.
We Sailed Away to the South.
Well, children, said Shireen, a few nights after, when she and her friends were once more all around the low and cheerful fire, the Colonel as usual in his place by the table, and Uncle Ben, cockatoo on shoulder, in an easy-chair. Well, children, here we are as cosy as cosy can be; and when I see you all beside me, and the fire blinking and burning so cheerily, I feel so happy all over that I can hardly express myself, even in song.
“But hear how the wind is howling to-night!” said Tabby, looking towards the window.
“Tse, tse, tse!” said Dick, as if much impressed.
Warlock simply sat on one end, looking thoughtfully into the fire. Wind or weather did not trouble Warlock much, he was as much at home among the heather on a wild winter’s day with the snow two feet deep, and clouds of ice-dust blowing, as he was among the wild flowers in dingle, dell, or forest, when summer was in its prime.
The truth is, Warlock was one of Scotland’s own dogs, and these you know, are as hardy as the hills.
It was concerning this same doggie, Warlock, that the author once wrote the following lines. They were in answer to a Highland friend, who enquired through the medium of a well-known journal, if he knew the Aberdeen terrier. The verses are truly descriptive of this brave breed of dog, whether they possess any other merit or not is very little matter.
Warlock.
I ken the Terrier o’ the North,
I ken the towsy tyke;
Ye’ll search frae Tweed to Sussex shore,
But never find his like.
For pluck and pith, and jaws and teeth,
And hair like heather cowes (stems);
Wi’ body lang and low, and strang,
At hame on cairns (heaps of stone and rubbish) and knowes.
He’ll face a foumart (polecat), draw a brock (badger),
Kill rats and whitterits (weasels) by the score;
He’ll bang tod-lowrie (the fox) frae his hole,
Or fight him at his door.
He’ll range for days and ne’er be tired,
O’er mountain, moor, or fell;
Fair-play, I think, the dear wee chap
Would fecht the deil himsel’.
And yet beneath his rugged coat,
A heart beats warm and true;
He’ll help to herd the sheep and kye,
And mind the lammies (young lambs) too.
Then see him at the ingle side,
Wi’ bairnies round him laughin’;
Was ever dog sae pleased as he,
Sae fond o’ fun and daffin? (Joking)
But gie’s your han’, my Hielan man,
In troth! we manna sever;
Then here’s to Scotia’s best o’ dogs,
Our towsy (rough and unkempt in coat) tyke for ever.