"

"Thank you, Uncle Thomas. We remember very well his stories about Sirrah
and Hector and Chieftain, and the old Shepherd's grief at parting with
his dog."

"That's right, Boys; I am pleased to think that you do not forget what I
tell you. But listen to the Ettrick Shepherd."

"The sheep has scarcely any marked character save that of natural
affection, of which it possesses a very great share. It is otherwise a
stupid indifferent animal, having few wants, and fewer expedients. The
old black-faced, or forest breed, have far more powerful capabilities
than any of the finer breeds that have been introduced into Scotland,
and, therefore, the few anecdotes that I have to relate shall be
confined to them.

"So strong is the attachment of the sheep to the place where they have
been bred, that I have heard of their returning from Yorkshire to the
Highlands. I was always somewhat inclined to suspect that they might
have been lost by the way, but it is certain, however, that when once
one or a few sheep get away from the rest of their acquaintances, they
return homeward with great eagerness and perseverance. I have lived
beside a drove-road the better part of my life, and many stragglers have
I seen bending their steps northward in the spring of the year. A
shepherd rarely sees these journeyers twice; if he sees them, and stops
them in the morning, they are gone long before night; and if he sees
them at night they will be gone many miles before morning. This strong
attachment to the place of their nativity is much more predominant in
our old aboriginal breed than in any of the other kinds with which I am
acquainted.

"The most singular instance that I know of, to be quite well
authenticated, is that of a black ewe, that returned with her lamb from
a farm in the head of Glen-Lyon, to the farm of Harehope, in Tweeddale,
and accomplished the journey in nine days. She was soon missed by her
owner, and a shepherd was despatched in pursuit of her, who followed her
all the way to Crieff, where he turned, and gave her up. He got
intelligence of her all the way, and every one told him that she
absolutely persisted in travelling on,--she would not be turned,
regarding neither sheep nor shepherd by the way. Her lamb was often far
behind, and she had constantly to urge it on by impatient bleating. She
unluckily came to Stirling on the morning of a great annual fair, about
the end of May, and judging it imprudent to venture through the