at."

We were all to dine at Ramseycleuch with the Messrs. Brydon, but Mr. Scott
and Mr. Laidlaw went away to look at something before dinner, and I was to
follow. On going into the stable-yard at Ramseycleuch I met with Mr.
Scott's liveryman, a far greater original than his master, whom I asked if
the Shirra was come?

"O, ay, lad, the Shirra's come," said he. "Are ye the chiel that mak the
auld ballads and sing them?"

"I said I fancied I was he that he meant, though I had never made ony very
_auld_ ballads."

"Ay, then, lad, gae your ways in an' speir for the Shirra. They'll let ye
see where he is. He'll be very glad to see you."

During the sociality of the evening, the discourse ran very much on the
different breeds of sheep, that curse of the community of Ettrick Forest.
The original black-faced Forest breed being always called _the short
sheep_, and the Cheviot breed _the long sheep_, the disputes at that
period ran very high about the practicable profits of each. Mr. Scott, who
had come into that remote district to preserve what fragments remained of
its legendary lore, was rather bored with the everlasting question of the
long and the short sheep. So at length, putting on his most serious
calculating face, he turned to Mr. Walter Brydon and said, "I'm rather at
a loss regarding the merits of this _very_ important question. How long
must a sheep actually measure to come under the denomination of _a long
sheep_?"

Mr. Brydon, who, in the simplicity of his heart, neither perceived the
quiz nor the reproof, fell to answer with great sincerity,--"It's the woo,
sir--it's the woo that makes the difference. The lang sheep hae the short
woo, and the short sheep hae the lang thing; and these are just kind o'
names we gie them like." Mr. Scott could not preserve his grave face of
strict calculation; it went gradually away, and a hearty guffaw followed.
When I saw the very same words repeated near the beginning of the _Black
Dwarf_, how could I be mistaken of the author? It is true, Johnnie
Ballantyne persuaded me into a nominal belief of the contrary, for several
years following, but I could never get the better of that and several
similar coincidences.

The next day we went off, five in number, to visit the wilds of Rankleburn,
to see if on the farms of Buccleuch there were any relics of the Castles
of Buccleuch or Mount-Comyn, the ancient and original possession of the
Scotts. We found no remains of either tower