in the month o’ January, when I was little mair than seventeen, my faither and me were gaun to Morpeth, and we were wishing to get forward wi’ the beasts as far as Whittingham; but just as we were about half a mile doun the loanin’ frae Glanton, it cam’ awa ane o’ the dreadfu’est storms that e’er mortal was out in.  The snaw literally fell in a solid mass, and every now and then the wind cam’ roarin’ and howlin’ frae the hills, and the fury o’ the drift was terrible.  I was driven stupid and half suffocated.  My faither was on a strong mare, and I was on a bit powney; and amang the cattle there was a camstairy three-year-auld bull, that wad neither hup nor drive.  We had it tied by the foreleg and the horns; but the moment the drift broke ower us, the creature grew perfectly unmanageable; forward it wadna gang.  My faither had strucken at it, when the mad animal plunged its horns into the side o’ the mare, and he fell to the ground.  I could just see what had happened, and that was a’.  I jumped aff the powney, and ran forward.  ‘O faither!’ says I, ’ye’re no hurt, are ye?’ He was trying to rise, but before I could reach him—­indeed, before I had the words weel out o’ my mouth—­the animal made a drive at him!  ‘O Davy!’ he cried, and he ne’er spak mair!  We generally carried pistols, and I had presence o’ mind to draw ane out o’ the breast-pocket o’ my big coat, and shoot the animal dead on the spot.  I tried to raise my faither in my arms, and, dark as it was, I could see his blood upon the snaw—­and a dreadfu’ sight it was for a son to see!  I couldna see where he had been hurt; and still, though he groaned but once, I didna think he was dead, and I strove and strove again to lift him upon the back o’ the powney, and take him back to Glanton; but though I fought wi’ my heart like to burst a’ the time, I couldna accomplish it.  ‘Oh, what shall I do?’ said I, and cried and shouted for help—­for the snaw fell sae fast, and the drift was sae terrible, that I was feared that, even if he werena dead, he wad be smothered and buried up before I could ride to Glanton and back.  And, as I cried, our poor dog Rover came couring to my faither’s body and licked his hand, and its pitiful howls mingled wi’ the shrieks o’ the wind.  No kennin’ what to do, I lifted my faither to the side o’ the road, and tried to place him, half sitting like, wi’ his back to the drift, by the foot o’ the hedge.  ‘Oh, watch there, Rover,’ said I; and the poor dog ran yowlin’ to his feet, and did as I desired it.  I sprang upon the back o’ the powney, and flew up to the town.  Within five minutes I was back, and in a short time a number o’ folk wi’ lichts cam’ to our assistance.  My faither was covered wi’ blood, but without the least sign o’ life.  I thought my heart wad break, and for a time my screams were heard aboon the ragin’ o’ the storm.  My faither was conveyed up to the inn, and, on being stripped, it was found that the horn o’ the animal had entered his back below the left shouther; and when a doctor frae Alnwick saw the body next day, he said he must have died instantly—­and, as I have told ye, he never spoke, but just cried, ‘O Davy!’