d, when a troop of
children passed, with little baskets and tin pails in their hands; and
amongst them Jamie Duff. It was not in the least necessary to ask him
where he was going.

Not very far, about a mile or so from our house, rose a certain hill
famed in the country round for its store of bilberries. It was the
same to which Turkey and I had fled for refuge from the bull. It was
called the Ba' Hill, and a tradition lingered in the neighbourhood
that many years ago there had been a battle there, and that after the
battle the conquerors played at football with the heads of the
vanquished slain, and hence the name of the hill; but who fought or
which conquered, there was not a shadow of a record. It had been a
wild country, and conflicting clans had often wrought wild work in
it. In summer the hill was of course the haunt of children gathering
its bilberries. Jamie shyly suggested whether I would not join them,
but they were all too much younger than myself; and besides I felt
drawn to seek Turkey in the field with the cattle--that is, when I
should get quite tired of doing nothing. So the little troop streamed
on, and I remained leaning over the gate.

I suppose I had sunk into a dreamy state, for I was suddenly startled
by a sound beside me, and looking about, saw an old woman, bent nearly
double within an old grey cloak, notwithstanding the heat. She leaned
on a stick, and carried a bag like a pillow-case in her hand. It was
one of the poor people of the village, going her rounds for her weekly
dole of a handful of oatmeal. I knew her very well by sight and by
name--she was old Eppie--and a kindly greeting passed between us. I
thank God that the frightful poor-laws had not invaded Scotland when I
was a boy. There was no degradation in honest poverty then, and it was
no burden to those who supplied its wants; while every person was
known, and kindly feelings were nourished on both sides. If I
understand anything of human nature now, it comes partly of having
known and respected the poor of my father's parish. She passed in at
the gate and went as usual to the kitchen door, while I stood drowsily
contemplating the green expanse of growing crops in the valley before
me. The day had grown as sleepy as myself. There were no noises except
the hum of the unseen insects, and the distant rush of the water over
the dams at our bathing-place. In a few minutes the old woman
approached me again. She was an honest and worthy so