A GAMEKEEPER OF THE OLD SCHOOL 39 



amount to stiffness. Even when I had known him 

 for years, and met him again after an interval, I 

 always found it difficult to believe that he recognised 

 me. This stiffness of manner was especially notice- 

 able when he wore his black, shiny frock-coat, tall 

 hat, and high collar, to attend a funeral. If you 

 then met him in the main street of Dairy — a most 

 impressive sight — it was useless to claim any 

 acquaintanceship with him, his vision being fixed at 

 such a time far beyond the horizon visible to the 

 ordinary eye. He was ever a regular attendant at 

 any funeral that might happen in the district, and 

 if you found him away from home, and asked his 

 wife if she knew where he was, she usually would 

 answer: "Indeed I dinna ken; likely he'll be at a 

 funeral, I think I heard there was ane aboot some- 

 where." But that he was far from absent-minded, 

 and knew everything that happened, keeping the 

 minutest incidents registered in a most retentive 

 memory, I most conclusively proved in after years, 

 in the following manner. 



It was in the month of May, perhaps fourteen 

 years after my first visit to Galloway, and one of the 

 last times that I ever saw my old friend Burnside. 

 I had been ill in London for some time, and, needing 



