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brings every other dog from his business, had the least effect on Hector, save that it made him a little trouble some on his own charge, and set him a running round and round them, turning them in at corners, out of a sort of impatience to be employed as well as his baying neighbours at the fold. Whenever old Sirrah found himself hard set, in commanding wild sheep on steep ground, where they are worst to manage, he never failed, without any hint to the purpose, to throw himself wide in below them, and lay their faces to the hill, by which means he got the command of them in a minute. I never could make Hector comprehend this advantage, with all my art, although his father found it out entirely of himself. The former would turn or wear sheep no other way, but on the hill above them; and though very good at it, he gave both them and himself double the trouble and fatigue.

impassable, so that I had to go up by St Mary's Loch, and go across by the boat; and, on drawing near to Bowerhope, I soon perceived that matters had gone precisely as I suspected. Large as the Yarrow was, and it appeared impassable by any living creature, Hector had made his escape early in the morning, had swum the river, and was sitting, "like a drookit hen," on a knoll at the east end of the house, awaiting my arrival with great impatience. I had a great attachment to this animal, who, with a good deal of absurdity, joined all the amiable qualities of his species. He was rather of a small size, very rough and shagged, and not far from the colour of a fox.

It cannot be supposed that he could understand all that was passing in the little family circle, but he certainly comprehended a good part of it. In particular, it was very easy to discover that he rarely missed aught that was said about himself, the sheep, the cat, or of a hunt. When aught of that nature came to be discussed, Hector's attention and impatience soon became manifest. There was one winter evening, I said to my mother that I was going to Bowerhope for a fortnight, for that I had more conveniency for writing with Alexander Laidlaw, than at home; and I added, "But I will not take Hector with me, for he is constantly quarrelling with the rest of the dogs, singing music, or breeding some uproar."-"Na, na," quoth she, "leave Hector with me; I like aye best to have him at hame, poor fallow."

These were all the words that passed. The next morning the waters were in a great flood, and I did not go away till after breakfast; but when the time came for tying up Hector, he was wanting." The d's in that beast," said I, "I will wager that he heard what we were saying yesternight, and has gone off for Bowerhope as soon as the door was opened this morning."

"If that that should really be the case, I'll think the beast no canny," said my mother.

The Yarrow was so large as to be quite

His son, Lion, was the very picture of his dad, had a good deal more sagacity, but also more selfishness. A history of the one, however, would only be an epitome of that of the other. Mr William Nicholson took a fine likeness of this latter one, which that gentleman still possesses. He could not get him to sit for his picture in such a position as he wanted, till he exhibited a singularly fine picture of his, of a small dog, on the opposite side of the room. Lion took it for a real animal, and, disliking its fierce and important look exceedingly, he immediately set up his ears and his shaggy birses, and fixing a stern eye on the picture, in manifest wrath, he would then sit for a whole day, and point his eye at it, without budging or altering his position.

It is a curious fact, in the history of these animals, that the most useless of the breed have often the greatest degree of sagacity in trifling and useless matters. An exceedingly good sheep dog attends to nothing else, but that particular branch of business to which he is bred. His whole capacity is exerted and exhausted on it, and he is of little avail in miscellaneous matters; whereas, a very indifferent cur, bred about the house, and accustomed to assist with everything, will often put the more noble breed to disgrace, in these paltry services. If one calls out, for instance, that the cows are in the corn, or the hens in the garden, the house-colley needs no other hint, but runs and turns them out. The shepherd's dog knows not what is astir; and, if he is called out in a hurry for such work, all that he will do is to break to the hill, and rear himself up

on end, to see if no sheep are running away. A bred sheep-dog, if coming ravening from the hills, and getting into a milk-house, would most likely think of nothing else than filling his belly with the cream. Not so his uninitiated brother. He is bred at home, to far higher principles of honour. I have known such lie night and day, among from ten to twenty pails full of milk, and never once break the cream of one of them with the tip of his tongue, nor would he suffer cat, rat, or any other creature, to touch it. This latter sort, too, are far more acute at taking up what is said in a family. There was a farmer of this country, a Mr Alexander Cuninghame, who had a bitch that, for the space of three or four years, in the latter part of her life, met him always at the foot of his farm, about a mile and a half from his house, on his way home. If he was half a day away, a week, or a fortnight, it was all the same; she met him at that spot, and there never was an instance seen of her going to wait his arrival there on a wrong day. If this was a fact, which I have heard averred by people who lived in the house at that time, she could only know of his coming home by hearing it mentioned in the family. The same animal would have gone and brought the cows from the hill when it grew dark, without any bidding, yet she was a very indif ferent sheep-dog.

The anecdotes of these animals are all so much alike, that were I but to relate the thousandth part of those I have heard, they would often look very much like repetitions. I shall there fore only in this paper mention one or two of the most singular, which I know to be well authenticated.

the hill, whenever he found a kebbed ewe, he immediately gave her in charge to his bitch to take home, which saved him from coming back that way again, and going over the same ground he had looked before. She always took them carefully home, and put them into a fold which was close by the house, keeping watch over them till she was seen by some one of the family; and then that moment she decamped, and hasted back to her master, who sometimes sent her three times home in one morning, with different charges. It was the custom of the farmer to watch her, and take the sheep in charge from her; but this required a good deal of caution; for as soon as she perceived that she was seen, whether the sheep were put into the fold or not, she conceived her charge at an end, and no flattery could induce her to stay and assist in folding them. There was a display of accuracy and attention in this, that I cannot say I have ever seen equalled.

The late Mr Steel, flesher in Peebles, had a bitch that was fully equal to the one mentioned above, and that in the very same qualification too. Her feats in taking home sheep from the neighbouring farms into the fleshmarket at Peebles by herself, form innumerable anecdotes in that vicinity, all similar to one another. But there is one instance related of her, that com bines so much sagacity with natural affection, that I do not think the history of the animal creation furnishes such another.

Mr Steel had such an implicit de pendence on the attention of this animal to his orders, that whenever he put a lot of sheep before her, he took a pride of leaving it to herself, and There was a shepherd lad near either remained to take a glass with Langholm, whose name was Scott, who the farmer of whom he had made the possessed a bitch, famed over all the purchase, or took another road, to look West Border for her singular tractabi- after bargains or other business. But lity. He could have sent her home one time he chanced to commit a drove with one sheep, two sheep, or any to her charge at a place called Willens given number, from any of the neigh- lee, without attending to her condition, bouring farms; and in the lambing as he ought to have done. This farm season it was his uniform practice to is five miles from Peebles, over wild send her home with the kebbed ewes hills, and there is no regularly defined just as he got them.-I must let the path to it. Whether Mr Steel remaintown reader understand this. A kebed behind, or took another road, I bed ewe is one whose lamb dies. As soon as such is found, she is imme diately brought home by the shep herd, and another lamb put to her; and this lad, on going his rounds on VOL. XV.

know not; but on coming home late in the evening, he was astonished at hearing that his faithful animal had never made her appearance with the drove. He and his son, or servant, in

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stantly prepared to set out by different paths in search of her; but on their going out to the street, there was she coming with the drove, no one missing; and, marvellous to relate, she was carrying a young pup in her mouth! She had been taken in travail on these hills; and how the poor beast had contrived to manage her drove in her state of suffering, is beyond human calculation; for her road lay through sheep the whole way. Her master's heart smote him when he saw what she had suffered and effected; but she was nothing daunted; and having deposited her young one in a place of safety, she again set out full speed to the hills, and brought another, and another, till she brought her whole litter, one by one; but the last one was dead. I give this as I have heard it related by the country people; for though I knew Mr Walter Steel well enough, I cannot say I ever heard it from his own mouth. I never entertained any doubt, however, of the truth of the relation, and certainly it is worthy of being preserved, for the credit of that most docile and affectionate of all animals the shepherd's dog.

The stories related of the dogs of sheep-stealers are fairly beyond all credibility. I cannot attach credit to those without believing the animals to have been devils incarnate, come to the earth for the destruction of both the souls and bodies of men. I cannot mention names, for the sake of families that still remain in the country; but there have been sundry men executed, who belonged to this department of the realm, for that heinous crime, in my own time; and others have absconded, just in time to save their necks. There was not one of these to whom I allude who did not acknowledge his dog to be the greatest aggressor. One young man, in particular, who was, I believe, overtaken by justice for his first offence, stated, that after he had folded the sheep by moonlight, and selected his number from the flock of a former master, he took them out, and set away with them towards Edinburgh. But before he had got them quite off the farm, his conscience smote him, as he said, (but more likely a dread of that which soon followed,) and he quitted the sheep, letting them go again to the hill. He called his dog off them; and mounting his poney, he rode away. At that

time he said his dog was capering and playing around him, as if glad of having got free of a troublesome business; and he regarded him no more, till, after having rode about three miles, he thought again and again that he heard something coming up behind him. Halting, at length, to ascertain what it was, in a few minutes there comes his dog with the stolen drove, driving them at a furious rate to keep up with his master. The sheep were all smoking, and hanging out their tongues, and their driver was fully as warm as they. The young man was now exceedingly troubled; for the. sheep having been brought so far from home, he dreaded there would be a pursuit, and he could not get them. home again before day. Resolving, at all events, to keep his hands clear of them, he corrected his dog in great wrath, left the sheep once more, and taking his dog with him, rode off a second time. He had not ridden above. a mile, till he perceived that his dog had again given him the slip; and suspecting for what purpose, he was terribly alarmed as well as chagrined; for the day-light approached, and he durst not make a noise calling on his dog, for fear of alarming the neighbourhood, in a place where both he and his dog were known. He resolved therefore to abandon the animal to himself, and take a road across the country which he was sure his dog did not know, and could not follow. He took that road; but being on horseback, he could not get across the enclosed fields. He at length came to a gate, which he closed behind him, and went about half a mile farther, by a zigzag course, to a farm-house where both his sister and sweetheart lived; and at that place he remained until after breakfast time. The people of this house were all examined on the trial, and no one had either seen sheep, or heard them mentioned, save one man, who came up to the aggressor as he was standing at the stable-door, and told him that his dog had the sheep safe enough down at the Crooked Yett, and he needed not hurry himself. He answered, that the sheep were not his-they were young Mr Thomson's, who had left them to his charge; and he was in search of a man to drive them, which made him come off his road.

After this discovery, it was impossible for the poor fellow to get quit of

them; so he went down and took possession of the stolen drove once more, carried them on, and disposed of them; and, finally, the transaction cost him his life. The dog, for the last four or five miles that he had brought the sheep, could have no other guide to the road his master had gone, but the smell of his poney's feet. I appeal to every unprejudiced person if this was not as like one of the deil's tricks as an honest colley's.

It is also well known that there was a notorious sheep-stealer in the county of Mid-Lothian, who, had it not been for the skins and sheep's-heads, would never have been condemned, as he could, with the greatest ease, have proved an alibi every time on which there were suspicions cherished against him. He always went by one road, calling on his acquaintances, and taking care to appear to everybody by whom he was known; while his dog went by another with the stolen sheep; and then on the two felons meeting again,

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they had nothing more ado than turn the sheep into an associate's enclosure, in whose house the dog was well fed and entertained, and would have soon taken all the fat sheep on the Lothian edges to that house. This was likewise a female, a jet-black one, with a deep coat of soft hair, but smooth headed, and very strong and handsome in her make. On the disappearance of her master, she lay about the hills and the places where he had frequented; but she never attempted to steal a drove by herself, nor yet anything for her own hand. She was kept a while by a relation of her master's; but never acting heartily in his service, soon came to an untimely end privately. of this there is little doubt, although some spread the report that one evening, after uttering two or three loud howls, she had vanished!-From such dogs as these, good Lord deliver us!

H. ALTRIVE, Feb. 2d, 1824.

CONCILIATION."

TO C. NORTH, ESQ.

DEAR SIR, CONCILIATION is the cant of the day. We find it in a thousand instances, - and in as many shapes-in every rank and department of the kingdom. It is the note of the Whigs-it is echoed by the Pluckless; and is greedily swallowed by every prater about privilege and decorum. The time has gone past when popular clamour was called forth by designing demagogues, to force the introduction of blessings, which the circumstances of the country would - not permit ;—and now that this clamour is allayed, the great object is to conciliate and to flatter those who were formerly so violent and unreasonable in their demands.

It is quite true, that in so far as political discussion is concerned, there cannot be too much moderation adopted at the present day. Every topic which formerly roused the feelings and called forth the angry passions of the people, has been put to rest; and there is absolutely no subject upon which the voice of complaint is to be heard. The country has been raised to a state of prosperity not exceeded at any former period of our history;-agriculture is now flourishing;-trade and commerce

are increasing; while our labourers are earning an abundant provision for themselves and families. Money is so plenteous, that channels for its application can hardly be furnished, even by the improvements which have been introduced into our land. The voice of discontent and of complaint is now heard no more; and it would require an ingenuity which we can hardly give the Whigs the credit of possessing, to find out even a pretended ground for venting their spleen. In so far as this goes, we can see no cause for political violence; and as Ministers are so fully established in public opinion, we heartily agree that moderation in all things is the soundest policy.

But admitting all this, we can see no good ground for adopting that humble and submissive tone towards men, whose principles remain unchanged, which is so common at the present day. If the Whigs had confess ed all their folly and crimes;-declared that they were sensible of the wildness of their speculations, and the rashness of their schemes ;-professed their repentance for the past, and their wish to adopt a different course of ac

tion for the future ;-if they had turned from their ranks with abhorrence and contempt those members who disgraced them by their factious designs, and by their association with the radical principles of the day;-if they had come forward and declared, that instead of a systematic opposition carried on in a spirit of most glaring inconsistency with all their former measures, they were now to be regulated by something like a spirit of knowledge, and discrimination, and honesty;-then would it have been most proper to have forgiven, and, if possible, forgotten, what was past, and to have treated them with all the favour and complacency which are due to men who are sensible that they can do harm no longer.

A public measure must not now be carried, if they are set violently against it ;-a firm and manly tone must not now be adopted, if they have brought forward any of their vague and idle charges;-and even persons attached to government, and who have defended it through good and bad report, must be given up to their rage, because their pride and pretensions demand such a victim. One would be lieve, that, instead of being men who once held bad and base principles, and who had suddenly abandoned them, they were even viewed as a party of persecuted patriots, who after being unjustly humbled for many years were now to be raised, and to have their hard treatment atoned for by every flattering mark of kindness, of concession, and of conciliation.

And what, after all, is the fact? The truth is, that the Whigs are in all things, except in power, the same now, as they were at any former period of their history. There has been no confession of any of their crimes no recantation-no atonement. They hold and avow at this day, the self-same principles, which, during the last war, at the time of Radical commotion, when the Queen held her rabble court, and while the Spanish war was last discussed in Parliament, led them successively to worship tyranny abroad, to preach insubordination at home, to follow and acclaim the steps of profligacy-and to declare that consistency formed no part of their creed, whenever the peace and happiness of the country might be destroyed. They are the same in intention now, though their power and influence are utterly gone. Disappoint

But has this, indeed, been done? Have the Whigs repented them of that mad opposition which, if successful, would have bent the spirit of this free and happy country under the yoke of the bloodiest tyrant that the world ever produced? Have they declared their regret, that when a season of distress visited our land, they joined, in their drunken folly, with the ignorant scoffers at our national laws and institutions; and tried to take advantage of that hour of danger to raise their rabble party into power? Have they humbled themselves at the recollection of their efforts to stamp with the name of virtue and suffering innocence, the rankest scenes of indelicacy that ever were brought before a British public-and to erect a standard of open and avowed profligacy for the imitation of the women of England? Have they indeed confessed with contrition, that the only consistent part of their conduct has been their continued op-ed in their hopes, frustrated in their position to the measures of Ministers;

and that it was only in illustration of this principle that they lately called upon this country to engage in a war, not half so justifiable as one against which they cried for the last twenty years? Have they made their confessions, and their recantations upon these points, that their opponents are now so ready to receive them with favour and regard?

One would really believe, from the tenderness in every quarter as to giving offence to the feelings of these persons, that there was some such change in their conduct, as we have mentioned above. We see, in every case, the most lively concern as to their interests and views.

intentions, seeing their prophecies disproved, and themselves and their measures covered with contempt, they still cling to their heritage of shame, and glory in shewing their hatred to everything honest in principle and noble in conduct. Their voice has indeed been lost amidst the general shout of exultation which pervades a happy and prosperous country, but their silence is one of necessity, not of contentment. There is no change in their principles, for these are still directed to the hopeless task of raising themselves to power;

there is no alteration in their measures, for these are still aimed against the supporters of Government ;-they are the same discontented, invidious,

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