arm on the opposite bank of the Tweed,
which did not minny her lambs--that is, assume the character of mother
towards the offspring from which she had been separated.

The magnitude of this crime, the rareness of such offences in the
district, and the station in life of at least one of the offenders,
produced a great sensation in Tweeddale, and caused the elicitation of
every minute circumstance that could possibly be discovered respecting
the means which had been employed for carrying on such an extensive
system of depredation. The most surprising part of the tale is the
extent to which it appears that the instinct of dumb animals had been
instrumental, both in the crime and in its detection. While the farmer
seemed to have deputed the business chiefly to his shepherd, the
shepherd seemed to have deputed it again, in many instances, to a dog
of extraordinary sagacity, which served him in his customary and
lawful business. This animal, which bore the name of "Yarrow," would
not only act under his immediate direction in cutting off a portion of
a flock, and bringing it home to Wormiston, but is said to have been
able to proceed solitarily, and by night, to a sheepwalk, and there
detach certain individuals previously pointed out by its master,
which it would drive home by secret ways, without allowing one to
straggle. It is mentioned that, while returning home with their stolen
droves, they avoided, even in the night, the roads along the banks of
the river, or those that descend to the valley through the adjoining
glens. They chose rather to come along the ridge of mountains that
separate the small river Leithen from the Tweed. But even here there
was sometimes danger, for the shepherds occasionally visit their
flocks even before day; and often when Millar had driven his prey from
a distance, and while he was yet miles from home, and the
weather-gleam of the eastern hills began to be tinged with the
brightening dawn, he has left them to the charge of his dog, and
descended himself to the banks of the Leithen, off his way, that he
might not be seen connected with their company. Yarrow, although
between three and four miles from his master, would continue, with
care and silence, to bring the sheep onward to Wormiston, where his
master's appearance could be neither a matter of question nor
surprise.

Near to the thatched farmhouse was one of those old square towers, or
peel-houses, whose picturesque ruins were then seen or