“It’s the woo’, man,—­it’s the woo’, and no the beasts themsells, that makes them be ca’d lang or short.  I believe if ye were to measure their backs, the short sheep wad be rather the langer-bodied o’ the twa; but it’s the woo’ that pays the rent in thae days, and it had muckle need.”

“Odd, Bauldie says very true,—­short sheep did make short rents—­my father paid for our steading just threescore punds, and it stands me in three hundred, plack and bawbee.—­And that’s very true—­I hae nae time to be standing here clavering—­Landlord, get us our breakfast, and see an’ get the yauds fed—­I am for doun to Christy Wilson’s, to see if him and me can gree about the luckpenny I am to gie him for his year-aulds.  We had drank sax mutchkins to the making the bargain at St. Boswell’s fair, and some gate we canna gree upon the particulars preceesely, for as muckle time as we took about it—­I doubt we draw to a plea—­But hear ye, neighbour,” addressing my worthy and learned patron, “if ye want to hear onything about lang or short sheep, I will be back here to my kail against ane o’clock; or, if ye want ony auld-warld stories about the Black Dwarf, and sic-like, if ye’ll ware a half mutchkin upon Bauldie there, he’ll crack t’ye like a pen-gun.  And I’se gie ye a mutchkin mysell, man, if I can settle weel wi’ Christy Wilson.”

The farmer returned at the hour appointed, and with him came Christy Wilson, their difference having been fortunately settled without an appeal to the gentlemen of the long robe.  My learned and worthy patron failed not to attend, both on account of the refreshment promised to the mind and to the body, although he is known to partake of the latter in A very moderate degree; and the party, with which my Landlord was associated, continued to sit late in the evening, seasoning their liquor with many choice tales and songs.  The last incident which I recollect, was my learned and worthy patron falling from his chair, just as he concluded a long lecture upon temperance, by reciting, from the “Gentle Shepherd,” a couplet, which he right happily transferred from the vice of avarice to that of ebriety: 

     He that has just eneugh may soundly sleep,
     The owercome only fashes folk to keep.

In the course of the evening the Black Dwarf had not been forgotten, and the old shepherd, Bauldie, told so many stories of him, that they excited a good deal of interest.  It also appeared, though not till the third punch-bowl was emptied, that much of the farmer’s scepticism on the subject was affected, as evincing a liberality of thinking, and a freedom from ancient prejudices, becoming a man who paid three hundred pounds a-year of rent, while, in fact, he had a lurking belief in the traditions of his forefathers.  After my usual manner, I made farther enquiries of other persons connected with the wild and pastoral district in which the scene of the following narrative is placed, and I was fortunate enough to recover many links of the story, not generally known, and which account, at least in some degree, for the circumstances of exaggerated marvel with which superstition has attired it in the more vulgar traditions.