ead to me, I liked the lesson of the Good Samaritan best,
and, looking back, now that I am a grown man, it seems to me that I met
the Good Samaritan that night, only he was a woman.

After Allison Elliot, for that was her name, had brought my pony into
her cow-house, and seen that he was supplied with both hay and water,
she returned to the cottage, and with her own hands took off my coarse
woollen hose and heavy shoon, and spread them on the hearth to dry, then
she made me lie down on the settle, and, covering me up with a plaid,
she bade me go to sleep, promising to wake me the moment the moon rose.

It was nearly eleven o'clock when she shook me gently, bidding me get up
and put on my shoon, as it was time to be going, and, sitting up, I
found a supper of wheaten bread and hot milk on the table, which she
told me to eat, while she wrapped herself in a plaid and went out for
the nag.

What with the sleep, and the dry clothes, and the warm food, I promise
you I felt twice the man I had done a few hours earlier, and I chattered
quite gaily to her as she led my pony up a steep hillside behind the
cottage, for the moon was only beginning to rise, and there was still
but little light. After we had gone some two miles, we struck a bridle
track, well trodden by horses' hoofs, which wound upwards between two
high hills.

Here Allison paused and looked keenly at the ground.

"This is the path," she said; "you can hardly lose it, for there have
been riders over it yesterday or the day before. Scott o' Haining and
his men, most likely, going home from their meeting at the Kershope
Burn. This will lead you over by Priesthaugh Swire, and down the Allan
into Teviotdale. Beware of a bog which you will pass some two miles on
this side of Priesthaugh. 'Tis the mire Queen Mary stuck in when she
rode to visit her lover when he lay sick at Hermitage. May the Lord be
good to you, laddie, and grant you a safe convoy, for ye carry a brave
heart in that little body o' yours!"

I thanked her with all my might, promising to go back and see her if my
errand were successful; then I turned my pony's head to the hills, and
spurred him into a brisk canter. He was a willing little beast, and
mightily refreshed by Allison Elliot's hay, and, as the moon was now
shining clearly, we made steady progress; but it was a long lonely ride
for a boy of my age, and once or twice my courage nearly failed me: once
when my pony put his foot into a sheep dra