Similar details might be multiplied to almost any | bid imagination on the one hand, and a remarkable extent; but the above are sufficient to serve the purpose I have at present in view; and the question that now presents itself for consideration is, Supposing these facts to be perfectly authentic, which on the strongest moral evidence I believe them to be, is it possible, consistently with any known principle or attribute of the human mind, to offer any explanation of this remarkable phenomenon? It is obvious, from the preceding anecdotes, that this "fatal presentiment," as Napoleon calls it, cannot be considered as an hallucination of mind, engendered by cowardice or fear, as, in all the instances that have been communicated to me, or I have come to the knowledge of, it has happened to men of approved courage, and of great firmness and intrepidity of character. One of the most striking concomitants of this prophetic anticipation of death is the overweening conviction that it will be inevitably realized; a conviction so strong as not to be shaken by either argument or ridicule; the man, therefore, who marches to battle, assured, in his own mind, that he will never return, by that very act, and in the peculiar circumstances, gives the most decisive proof of constancy and resolution, of his mastery over the passion of fear, and of his superiority to the weakness with which some minds are overwhelmed by the certainty of death. In the conflict of antagonist passions, the more powerful of course prevails, and determines human conduct; in other words, man always acts from the stronger motive.

coincidence, like that of repeatedly throwing the same dice, on the other. Soldiers, and particularly veteran soldiers, familiar with danger and death, are not liable to be troubled with hypochondriac affections, or phantoms of visionary terror, the progeny of ennui or jaded epicurism; the evils they suffer and feel are physical, not mental; their life has too much of stern reality to be embittered by the phantasmagoria of the brain; food and rest after fatigue, and after battle, victory and glory, are, in general, the prime objects with which they concern themselves. It is therefore highly improbable that such gloomy forebodings as those of which I have been writing, should, in the first instance, be occasioned by any distempered affection of the mind; and it is no less improbable that the constant fulfilment of the prediction should be a mere accidental coincidence. I have heard at least a hundred anecdotes of the kind of which I have now given some specimens; and the result was invariably the same in all. Now, I say, that it would be absolutely miraculous were the dice (supposing them not loaded) to turn up a hundred times, in succession, the same numbers. It ought likewise to be remarked, that this is one of those predictions which cannot be said to produce its own accomplishment; soldiers, exposed to an enemy's fire, can scarcely increase or diminish, by any act of their own, the hazards to which all are equally exposed.

Upon what principle, then, are we to account for Nor is it consistent with the principles of reason, the appalling certainty of approaching death thus or even the doctrine of chances, to hold, that the irresistibly borne in" upon the mind? By what realization of these fatal forebodings is to be as-secret intimation is it thus, in some instances, ascribed to accident alone. The result of all the in- sured of the near approach of an event, which, to formation I have been able to collect on the subject the vast majority of men, "clouds and shadows is, that in no case has the presentiment been falsi- rest upon" till the fatal moment when it is revealed? fied by the event; and, to say the least, it is very Whence the overwhelming conviction with which improbable, that, in so many instances, the predic- the presentiment is accompanied? I confess I tion should be followed by the accomplishment, cannot tell; but I believe the fact, because the were there nothing more in the matter than a mor- moral evidence in favor of it is, to me, irresistible. The physiology of the mind is a subject of which Wellington's position, on the Sierra de Busaco, the troops, we are, and will forever continue, in total ignorance. not expecting that the enemy was near, had laid down on It may have latent powers, which only a particular the summit of the ridge to take a little rest; and numbers, both of the men and officers, overcome with fatigue, combination of causes can call into action; and naturally fell asleep. Among the latter was the gallant that combination may be of rare occurrence, and officer who then commanded the Connaught Rangers. beyond the reach of our inquiries, when it does He had not slept, however, any length of time, when he happen. Many of the lower animals are gifted started up, apparently in great alarm, and calling one of the officers of the same regiment, who had laid down with a presentiment of danger, the manner of acquite close by him, said, "I have just had a most extraor- quiring which is probably as mysterious as that dinary dream; such as I once had before, the night before which we are considering; and this seems to be a battle. Depend on it we shall be attacked very soon." given them by Nature for their preservation. Man The young man immediately went forward, and after is, in general, placed in a less enviable situation, looking between him and the horizon, and listening for a while to every sound and murmur wafted on the night because he has reason, instead of instinct, as his breeze, returned, and reported that all was still. The guide. Yet it has been believed, in all ages, that colonel was satisfied, and they again laid down; but, in men have been, occasionally, forewarned of their less than half an hour, he started up a second time, ex- approaching dissolution, and that "sounds, by no claiming, in strong language, that ere an hour elapsed mortal made," are intelligible to "death's prothey would be attacked! On seeing the colonel and his young friend throwing aside their cloaks, and moving off, phetic ear. This belief, probably, I may add, several of the officers around them took the alarm; and certainly, originated from the observation of facts it was time-for, on examination, it was found that the similar to those I have mentioned; but how, at the enemy's columns of attack were ascending the heights, "sunset of life," "coming events cast their shadwith the utmost secrecy and expedition. It is known that they had reached the summit, and that some of their ows before," is a mystery which we shall never be battalions had deployed into line before the British were able to penetrate. It is equally impossible, I susready to attack them. They were then charged, broken, pect, even to conjecture, with any degree of plausiand driven down the hill with great loss. It is remark-bility, whether these premonitions result from any able that the same gallant officer, now a general, had a similar dream in Egypt, on the morning of the 21st March, before the British position was attacked by the French under cover of the darkness.-The reader will find a case nearly parallel in the 7th chapter of the Book of Judges.

internal consciousness, or external agency-from some latent power of the mind suddenly called into action, or from the immediate influence of that mighty Being of whom it is only an emanation. Be this as it may, it is the business of philosophy

to accumulate facts, not theories, and where these are few, and the connecting principle doubtful, to avoid all hasty generalizations.*

From Blackwood's Magazine.

THE SHEPHERD'S CALENDAR.-DOGS. THERE being no adage more generally established, or better founded, than that the principal conversation of shepherds meeting on the hills is either about Dogs or Lasses, I shall make each of these important topics a head, or rather a snag, in my Pastoral Calendar, whereon to hang a few amusing anecdotes; the one of these forming the chief support, and the other the chief temporal delight, of the shepherd's solitary and harmless

will not believe that a single shepherd and his dog will accomplish more in gathering a stock of sheep from a Highland farm, than twenty shepherds could do without dogs. So that you see, and it is a fact, that, without this docile little animal, the pastoral life would be a mere blank. Without the shepherd's dog, the whole of the open mountainous land in Scotland would not be worth a sixpence. It would require more hands to manage a stock of sheep, gather them from the hills, force them into houses and folds, and drive them to markets, than the profits of the whole stock were capable of maintaining. Well may the shepherd feel an interest in his dog; he is, indeed, the fellow that earns the family's bread, of which he is himself content with the smallest morsel; always grateful, and always ready to exert his utmost abilities in his master's Though it may appear a singular perversion of interest. Neither hunger, fatigue, nor the worst the order of nature, to put the dogs before the of treatment, will drive him from his side; he will lasses, I shall nevertheless begin with the former. follow him through fire and water, as the saying I think I see how North will chuckle at this, and is, and through every hardship, without murmur think to himself how this is all of the shepherd or repining, till he literally fall down dead at his being fallen into the back ground of life, (by which foot. If one of them is obliged to change masters, epithet he is pleased to distinguish the married it is sometimes long before he will acknowledge state,) for that he had seen the day he would hard-the new one, or condescend to work for him with ly have given angels the preference to lasses, not the same avidity as he did for his former lord; but to speak of a parcel of tatted towsy tykes!

life.

I beg your pardon, sir, but utility should always take precedency of pleasure. A shepherd may be a very able, trusty, and good shepherd, without a sweetheart-better, perhaps, than with one. But what is he without his dog? A mere post, sir-a nonentity as a shepherd-no better than one of the gray stones upon the side of his hill. A literary pedlar, such as yourself, Sir Christy, and all the thousands beside who deal in your small wares,

if he once acknowledge him, he continues attached to him till death; and though naturally proud and high-spirited, in as far as relates to his master, these qualities (or rather failings) are kept so much in subordination, that he has not a will of his own. Of such a grateful, useful, and disinterested animal, I could write volumes; and now that I have got on my hobby, I greatly suspect that all my friends at Ambrose's will hardly get me off again.

But, in the first place, I must give you some account of my own renowned Hector,* which I promised long ago. He was the son and immediate successor of the faithful old Sirrah; and though not nearly so valuable a dog as his father, he was a far more interesting one. He had three times more humor and whim about him; and though exceedingly docile, his bravest acts were mostly tinctured with a grain of stupidity, which showed his reasoning faculty to be laughably obtuse.

I once sent you an account of a notable dog of my own, named Sirrah, which amused a number * Having confined myself to military anecdotes, illus- of your readers a great deal, and put their faith in trative of the presentiment of approaching and inevitable my veracity somewhat to the test; but in this disdeath, I shall advert, in this note, to the well-known case of Henri IV. That truly great prince, on the night im-trict, where the singular qualities of the animal mediately preceding the day on which he fell by the knife were known, so far from any of the anecdotes being of Ravaillac, "could take no rest, and was in continual disputed, every shepherd values himself to this day uneasiness," and, " in the morning, he told those about on the possession of facts far outstripping any of him he had not slept, and was very much disordered. those recorded by you formerly. With a few of Thereupon M. de Vendome entreated his majesty to take these I shall conclude this paper. care of himself that day, and not to go out; FOR THAT DAY WAS FATAL TO HIM." (Pere de l'Etoile.) The king, however, treated this advice with derision; and as one la Brosse had predicted that he would fall on that day, he seemed resolved, like Cæsar, to brave the ides of March, and, if possible, to give the prophet the lie. This disturbance and disorder continued unabated till the very moment that he formed the resolution to go abroad in the afternoon. Mathieu, in recounting his discourse both before and after dinner, adds, that he could not stay one moment in any place, nor conceal his irresolution and disorder ;" and that, striking his forehead with his hand, he exclaimed," My God! there is something here which strangely troubles me; I know not what is the I shall mention a striking instance of it. I was matter!" The assassin, who was on the watch for his once at the farm of Shorthope, on Ettrick head, opportunity, hearing that the king had ordered his car- receiving some lambs that I had bought, and was riage, muttered to himself, "I have thee-thou art lost!" and the dreadful prediction was fulfilled. going to take to market, with some more, the next We are informed by Sully, that Henri lived in perpetual apprehen- day. Owing to some accidental delay, I did not sion of assassination; and it is therefore quite probable get final delivery of the lambs till it was growing that the prediction of La Brosse, coupled with the constant late; and being obliged to be at my own house that dread that he would, in this way, be immolated, to satiate night, I was not a little dismayed lest I should the implacable rage of his enemies, may have occasioned that undefinable irresolution and disorder for which he scatter and lose my lambs, if darkness overtook me. himself was unable to account. It may, therefore, be Darkness did overtake me by the time I got half doubted whether the state of Henri's mind, immediately way, and no ordinary darkness for an August evenpreceding his death, can be considered as that of a person ing. The lambs having been weaned that day, laboring under a presentiment of his approaching fate. and of the wild black-faced breed, became exceedHe derided, or affected to deride, La Brosse's prediction; ingly unruly, and for a good while I lost hopes of he appears to have been oppressed by no overmastering conviction that his hours were numbered: he only felt an mastering them. Hector managed the point, and unusual restlessness, and a disorder of the brain, which we got them safe home; but both he and his masmight have been produced involuntarily by the causes ter were alike sore forefoughten. It had become already mentioned. The circumstance, however, was altogether too remarkable to be passed over.

* See the Mountain Bard.

so dark, that we were obliged to fold them with a droll stupidity about him, and took up forms and candles; and after closing them safely up, I went rules of his own, for which I could never perceive home with my father and the rest to supper. When any motive that was not ever further out of the way Hector's supper was set down, behold, he was want-than the action itself. He had one uniform practice, ing! and as I knew we had him at the fold, which and a very bad one it was, during the time of family was within call of the house, I went out, and called worship, and just three or four seconds before the and whistled on him for a good while, but he did conclusion of the prayer, he started to his feet, and not make his appearance. I was distressed about ran barking round the apartment like a crazed beast. this; for, having to take away the lambs next My father was so much amused with this, that he morning, I knew I could not drive them a mile would never suffer me to correct him for it, and I without my dog, if it had been to save me the scarcely ever saw the old man rise from the prayer whole drove. without his endeavoring to suppress a smile at the extravagance of Hector. None of us ever could find out how he knew that the prayer was near done, for my father was not formal in his prayers; but certes he did know-of that we had nightly evidence. There never was anything for which I was so puzzled to discover a motive as this; but, from accident, I did discover it, and, however ludicrous it may appear, I am certain I was correct. It was much in character with many of Hector's feats, and rather, I think, the most outré of any principle he ever acted on. As I said, his great daily occupation was pointing the cat. Now, when he saw us kneel all down in a circle, with our with himself, it struck his absurd head that we were all engaged in pointing the cat. He lay on tenters all the time, but the acuteness of his ear enabling him, through time, to ascertain the very moment when we would all spring to our feet, he thought to himself, "I shall be first after her for you all."

The next morning, as soon as it was day, I arose and inquired if Hector had come home. No; he had not been seen. I knew not what to do; but my father proposed that he would take out the lambs and herd them, and let them get some meat to fit them for the road; and that I should ride with all speed to Shorthope, to see if my dog had gone back there. Accordingly, we went together to the fold to turn out the lambs, and there was poor Hector sitting trembling in the very middle of the fold door, on the inside of the flake that closed it, with his eyes still steadfastly fixed on the lambs. He had been so hardly set with them after it grew dark, that he durst not for his life leave them, al-faces couched on our paws, in the same posture though hungry, fatigued, and cold; for the night had turned out a deluge of rain. He had never so much as lain down, for only the small spot that he sat on was dry, and there had he kept watch the whole night. Almost any other colley would have discerned that the lambs were safe enough in the fold, but honest Hector had not been able to see through this. He even refused to take my word for it, for he durst not quit his watch though he heard me calling both at night and morning.

Another peculiarity of his was, that he had a mortal antipathy to the family mouser, which was ingrained in his nature from his very puppyhood; yet so perfectly absurd was he, that no impertinence on her side, and no baiting on, could ever induce him to lay his mouth on her, or injure her in the slightest degree. There was not a day, and scarcely an hour, passed over, that the family did not get some amusement with these two animals. Whenever he was within doors, his whole occupation was watching and pointing the cat from morning to night. When she flitted from one place to another, so did he in a moment; and then squatting down, he kept his point sedulously, till he was either called off or fell asleep.

He was an exceedingly poor taker of meat, was always to press to it, and always lean; and often he would not taste it till we were obliged to bring in the cat. The malicious looks that he cast at her from under his eyebrows, on such occasions, were exceedingly ludicrous, considering his utter incapability of wronging her. Whenever he saw her, he drew near his bicker, and looked angry, but still he would not taste till she was brought to it; and then he cocked his tail, set up his birses, and began a lapping furiously, in utter desperation. His good nature was so immovable, that he would never refuse her a share of what he got; he even lapped close to the one side of the dish, and left her room -but mercy as he did ply!

It will appear strange to you to hear a dog's reasoning faculty mentioned, as I have done; but, I declare, I have hardly ever seen a shepherd's dog do anything without perceiving his reasons for it. I have often amused myself in calculating what his motives were for such and such things, and I generally found them very cogent ones. But Hector had

He inherited his dad's unfortunate ear for music, not perhaps in so extravagant a degree, but he ever took care to exhibit it on the most untimely and illjudged occasions. Owing to some misunderstanding between the minister of the parish and the session clerk, the precenting in church devolved on my father, who was the senior elder. Now. my father could have sung several of the old church tunes middling well, in his own family circle; but it so happened, that, when mounted in the desk, he never could command the starting notes of any but one, (St. Paul's,) which were always in undue readiness at the root of his tongue, to the exclusion of every other semibreve in the whole range of sacred melody. The minister, giving out psalms four times in the course of every day's service, consequently, the congregation were treated with St. Paul's in the morning, at great length, twice in the course of the service, and then once again at the close. Nothing but St. Paul's. And, it being of itself a monotonous tune, nothing could exceed the monotony that prevailed in the primitive church of Ettrick. Out of pure sympathy for my father alone, I was compelled to take the precentorship in hand; and, having plenty of tunes, for a good while I came on as well as could be expected, as men say of their wives. But, unfortunately for me, Hector found out that I attended church every Sunday, and though I had him always closed up carefully at home, he rarely failed in making his appearance in church at some time of the day. Whenever I saw him a tremor came over my spirits, for I well knew what the issue would be. The moment that he heard my voice strike up the psalm," with might and majesty," then did he fall in with such overpowering vehemence, that he and I seldom got any to join in the music but our two selves. The shepherds hid their heads, and laid them down in the backs of their seats rowed in their plaids, and the lasses looked down to the ground and laughed till

their faces grew red. I despised to stick the tune, | patience. I had a great attachment to this animal, and therefore was obliged to carry on in spite of the who, with a good deal of absurdity, joined all the obstreperous accompaniment; but I was, time after amiable qualities of his species. He was rather of time, so completely put out of all countenance with a small size, very rough and shagged, and not far the brute, that I was obliged to give up my office in from the color of a fox. disgust, and leave the parish once more to their old friend, St. Paul.

His son, Lion, was the very picture of his dad, had a good deal more sagacity, but also more selfHector was quite incapable of performing the ishness. A history of the one, however, would same feats among sheep that his father did; but, only be an epitome of that of the other. Mr. Wilas far as his judgment served him, he was a docile liam Nicholson took a fine likeness of this latter and obliging creature. He had one singular qual-one, which that gentleman still possesses. He ity, of keeping true to the charge to which he was could not get him to sit for his picture in such a set. If we had been shearing, or sorting sheep in position as he wanted, till he exhibited a singuany way, when a division was turned out, and larly fine picture of his, of a small dog, on the Hector got the word to attend them, he would opposite side of the room. Lion took it for a real have done it pleasantly, for a whole day, without animal, and, disliking its fierce and important look the least symptom of weariness. No noise or exceedingly, he immediately set up his ears and hurry about the fold, which brings every other dog his shaggy birses, and fixing a stern eye on the from his business, had the least effect on Hector, picture, in manifest wrath, he would then sit for save that it made him a little troublesome on his a whole day, and point his eye at it, without own charge, and set him running round and round budging or altering his position. them, turning them in at corners, out of a sort of impatience to be employed as well as his baying neighbors 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.

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 milkhouse, 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 honor. 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 These were all the words that passed. The the latter part of her life, met him always at the next morning the waters were in a great flood, and foot of his farm, about a mile and a half from his I did not go away till after breakfast; but when house, on his way home. If he was half a day the time came for tying up Hector, he was want-away, a week, or a fortnight, it was all the same; ing." 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 should really be the case, I'll think the beast no canny," said my

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."

mother.

The Yarrow was so large as to be quite 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, and 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 im

she met him at that spot, and there never was an instance seen of her going to await 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 indifferent 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 therefore only in this paper mention one or two of the most singular, which I know to be well authenticated.

There was a shepherd lad near Langholm, whose | by one; but the last one was dead. I give this as name was Scott, who possessed a bitch, famed over I have heard it related by the country people; for all the West Border for her singular tractability. though I knew Mr. Walter Steel well enough, I He could have sent her home with one sheep, two cannot say I ever heard it from his mouth. I never sheep, or any given number, from any of the neigh- entertained any doubt, however, of the truth of the boring farms; and in the lambing season it was relation, and certainly it is worthy of being prehis uniform practice to send her home with the served, for the credit of that most docile and affeckebbed ewes just as he got them. I must let the tionate of all animals-the shepherd's dog. town reader understand this. A kebbed ewe is one whose lamb dies. As soon as such is found, she is immediately brought home by the shepherd, and another lamb put to her; and this lad, on going his rounds on 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, whetner 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 neighboring farms into the flesh-market at Peebles by herself, form innumerable anecdotes in that vicinity, all similar to one another. But there is one instance related of her that combines 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 dependence 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 either remained to take a glass with the farmer of whom he had made the purchase, or took another road, to look after bargains or other business. But one time he chanced to commit a drove to her charge at a place called Willenslee, without áttending to her condition, as he ought to have done. This farm is five miles from Peebles, over wild hills, and there is no regularly defined path to it. Whether Mr. Steel remained behind, or took another road, I 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, instantly 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

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 those 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 pony, 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 pur pose, he was terribly alarmed as well as chagrined: for the daylight approached, and he durst not make a noise calling on his dog, for fear of alarming the neighborhood, 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 further, 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 que 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