And bring four in his companie;
Five Erles sall cum wi' mysel',
Gude reason I sud honoured be."
And there goes our Shepherd with his long swinging stride. As different from his dark, wily companion, the Badenoch drover, as was Harry Wakefield from Robin Oig; or as the big, sunny Cheviot is from the lowering Ruberslaw; and there is Jed trotting meekly behind him—may she escape strychnia, and, dying at the fireside among the children, be laid like
"Paddy Tims—whose soul at aise is—
With the point of his nose
And the tips of his toes
Turn'd up to the roots of the daisies"—
unanaleezed, save by the slow cunning of the grave. And may her master get the top price for his lambs!
Do you see to the left that little plantation on the brow of Foulshiels Hill, with the sunlight lying on its upper corner? If you were there you might find among the brackens and foxglove a little headstone with "I. T." rudely carved on it. That is Tibbie Tamson's grave, known and feared all the country round.