ected with our story, in his own words. The following was one of his
favourite anecdotes of himself:--

"It was about three years after my wife's death, poor body," (he began)
"that I had been owre at Morpeth market, wi' four score o' ewes and six
score o' hogs. I was at least comfortable when I left Morpeth, but
noughts aboon comfortable; for I had only had twenty queghs[1] o'
English gin (which, thou must understand, in our part o' the country,
means Cheviot-made whisky), and seven o' them were public-house ones,
which wouldna count aboon three or four guid ones--so thou seest that I
had had noughts in the world to make me onything but sober. Hoos'ever, I
just thought to mysel', thinks I--drat! I'll away round by Elsdon, and
see what a' my cronies there are about. So, 'To the right, Dobbin, my
canny fellow,' said I to my nag--and it was as wise an animal as ever
man had to speak to; it knawed every word I said, and understud me
whether I was drunk or sober, mony a time, when ne'er a one else could
make out what I said. But the poor beast had had sae meikle experience
wi' me, that it knawed what I meant by a wink as weel as a nod. So I
said to it--'To the right, Dobbin, my canny fellow; thou shalt be
foddered at awd Betty Bell's t'night, and if a' be as it shud be, thou
shalt hae a rest t'morrow tee, into the bargain.' So Dobbin took away
across the moor to Elsdon, just as natural as a Christian could hae
done. Weel, when I reached Elsdon, and went into Betty Bell's, there
were five o' my cronies sitting. They were a' trumps, and they gied me
three cheers when I went in, for they knawed that I was out and out a
gud 'un.

"'Ha! Sandy!' said they, 'thou'rt welcome, my canny lad--we just wanted
you to make the half dozen. Hast thou been at Morpeth?'

"'Yea,' said I, 'and hae just come round by Elsdon to hae a boot wi'
thee.'

"'So be it,' said they; and we sat down in gud earnest, and three
glorious days we had, and would have had mair, but that we drank Betty
Bell's cupboards dry. The stars were just beginning to wink out as I got
my feet in the stirrups, and to confess the truth, I was winking far
worse than the stars. However, Dobbin took across the moors, and I was
in the high road for my home. How it was I dinna knaw; but I rather
think that I had fallen asleep, and that something or other had scared
the nag, and I had slipped out o' the saddle. I mind o' lying very cauld
and uncomfortable, half-dreaming, half-wa