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ful, and sullen disposition. There was nothing against his character that anybody knew of, and he had been a considerable time in the place. The last service he was in was with a Mr Anderson of Eltrieve, who died about 100 years ago, and who had hired him during the summer to herd a stock of young cattle in Eltrieve Hope. It happened one day in the month of September, that James Anderson, his master's son, a boy then about ten years of age, went with this young man to the Hope one day, to divert himself. The herd had his dinner along with him; and, about one o'clock, when the boy proposed going home, the former pressed him very hard to stay and take a share of his dinner; but the boy refused, for fear his parents might be alarmed about him, and said he would go home; on which the herd said to him, "Then if ye winna stay wi' me, James, ye may depend on't I'll cut my throat afore ye come back again."

I have heard it likewise reported, but only by one person, that there had been some things stolen out of his master's house a good while before, and that the boy had discovered a silver knife and fork, that was a part of the stolen property, in the herd's possession that day, and that it was this discovery that drove him to despair. The boy did not return to the Hope that afternoon; and, before evening, a man coming in at the pass called the Hart Loup, with a drove of lambs, on the way for Edinburgh, perceived something like a man standing in a strange frightful position at the side of one of Eldinhope hay-ricks. The driver's attention was riveted on this strange, uncouth figure; and as the drove-road passed at no great distance from the spot, he first called, but receiving no answer, he went up to the spot, and behold it was the above-mentioned young man, who had hung himself in the hay rope that was tying down the rick. This was accounted a great wonder, and every one said, if the devil had not assisted him, it was impossible the thing could have been done, for in general these ropes are so brittle, being made of green hay, that they will scarcely bear to be bound over the rick. And the more to horrify the good people of the neighbourhood, the driver said, that when he first came in view, he could almost give his oath that he saw two people engaged busily about the hay-rick, going round it and round it, and he thought they were dressing it. If this asseveration approximated at all to truth, it makes this evident at least, that the unfortunate young man had hanged himself after the man with the lambs came in view. He was, however, quite dead when he cut him down. He had fastened two of the old hay ropes at the bottom of the rick on one side, (indeed they are all fastened so when first laid on,) so that he had nothing to do but to loosen two of the ends on the other side; and these he tied in a knot round his neck, and then, slackening his knees, and letting himself lean down gradually till the hay rope bore all his weight, he contrived to put an end to his existence in that way. Now the fact is, that if you try all the ropes that are thrown over all the outfield hay ricks in Scotland, there is not one among a thousand of them will hang a colley dog-so that the manner of this wretch's death was rather a singular circumstance.

Early next morning Mr Anderson's servants went reluctantly away, and, taking an old blanket with them for a winding-sheet, they rolled up the body of the deceased, first in his own plaid, letting the hay-rope still remain about his neck, and then rolling the old blanket over all, they bore the loathed remains away the distance of three miles or so on spokes, to the top of Cowan's Croft, at the very point where the Duke of Buccleuch's land, the laird of Drumelzier's, and Lord Napier's meet; and there they buried him, with all that he had on him and about him, silver knife and fork and all together. Thus far went tradition, and no one ever disputed one jot of the disgusting oral tale.

A nephew of that Mr Anderson's, who was with the hapless youth that day he died, says, that, as far as he can gather from the relations of friends that he remembers, and of that same uncle in particular, it is one hundred and five years next month, (that is, September 1823,) since that event happened; and I think it likely that this gentleman's information is correct. But sundry other people, much older than he whom I have consulted, pretend that it is six or seven years more. They say they have heard that Mr James Anderson was then a boy ten years of age; that he lived to an old