ucated mind. "My father, while I was yet a child," writes Mr
Riddell, in a MS. autobiography, "left Sorbie; but when I had become
able to traverse both _burn_ and _brae_, hill and glen, I frequently
returned to, and spent many weeks together in, the vale of my nativity.
We had gone, under the same employer, to what pastoral phraseology terms
'_an out-bye herding_,' in the wilds of Eskdalemuir, called
Langshawburn. Here we continued for a number of years, and had, in this
remote, but most friendly and hospitable district, many visitors,
ranging from Sir Pulteney Malcolm down to Jock Gray, whom Sir Walter
Scott, through one of his strange mistakes, called Davy Gellatly....
Among others who constituted a part of the company of these days, was
one whom I have good reason to remember--the Ettrick Shepherd. Nor can I
forbear observing that his seemed one of those hearts that do not become
older in proportion as the head grows gray. Cheerful as the splendour of
heaven, he carried the feelings, and, it may be said, the simplicity and
pursuits of youth, into his maturer years; and if few of the sons of men
naturally possessed such generous influence in promoting, so likewise
few enjoyed so much pleasure in participating in the expedients of
recreation, and the harmless glee of those who meet under the rural
roof--the shepherd's _bien_ and happy home. This was about the time when
Hogg began to write, or at least to publish: as I can remember from the
circumstance of my being able to repeat the most part of the pieces in
his first publication by hearing them read by others before I could read
them myself. It may, perhaps, be worth while to state that at these
meetings the sons of farmers, and even of lairds, did not disdain to
make their appearance, and mingle delightedly with the lads that wore
the crook and plaid. Where pride does not come to chill nor foppery to
deform homely and open-hearted kindness, yet where native modesty and
self-respect induce propriety of conduct, society possesses its own
attractions, and can subsist on its own resources.

"At these happy meetings I treasured up a goodly store of old Border
ballads, as well as modern songs; for in those years of unencumbered and
careless existence, I could, on hearing a song, or even a ballad, sung
twice, have fixed it on my mind word for word. My father, with his
family, leaving Langshawburn, went to Capplefoot, on the Water of Milk,
and there for one year occupied a f