his
own reasons of remembrance.

"He's far lichter than ye wud expeck for sae big a man--there wesna
muckle left o' him, ye see--but the road is heavy, and a'il change ye
aifter the first half mile."

"Ye needna tribble yersel, wricht," said the man from Glen Urtach;
"the'll be nae change in the cairryin' the day," and Tammas was thankful
some one had saved him speaking.

Surely no funeral is like unto that of a doctor for pathos, and a
peculiar sadness fell on that company as his body was carried out who
for nearly half a century had been their help in sickness, and had
beaten back death time after time from their door. Death after all
was victor, for the man that had saved them had not been able to save
himself.

As the coffin passed the stable door a horse nieghed within, and every
man looked at his neighbour. It was his old mare crying to her master.

Jamie slipped into the stable, and went up into the stall.

"Puir lass, ye're no gaen' wi' him the day, an' ye 'ill never see him
again; ye've hed yir last ride thegither, an' ye were true tae the end."

[Illustration: "DEATH AFTER ALL WAS VICTOR"]

After the funeral Drumsheugh came himself for Jess, and took her to his
farm. Saunders made a bed for her with soft, dry straw, and prepared for
her supper such things as horses love. Jess would neither take food nor
rest, but moved uneasily in her stall, and seemed to be waiting for some
one that never came. No man knows what a horse or a dog understands and
feels, for God hath not given them our speech. If any footstep was heard
in the courtyard, she began to neigh, and was always looking round as
the door opened. But nothing would tempt her to eat, and in the
night-time Drumsheugh heard her crying as if she expected to be taken
out for some sudden journey. The Kildrummie veterinary came to see her,
and said that nothing could be done when it happened after this fashion
with an old horse.

[Illustration]

"A've seen it aince afore," he said. "Gin she were a Christian instead
o' a horse, ye micht say she wes dying o' a broken hert."

He recommended that she should be shot to end her misery, but no man
could be found in the Glen to do the deed and Jess relieved them of the
trouble. When Drumsheugh went to the stable on Monday morning, a week
after Dr. MacLure fell on sleep, Jess was resting at last, but her eyes
were open and her face turned to the door.

"She wes a' the wife he hed," said Jamie, as he rejoin