LOCKERBY TO MOODLAW. 365 



about the time of Lockerby fair, while the seconds 

 with a month^s more keep bring nearly as much. 



Our onward route was past Boreland, where Mr. 

 Stoddart has his dairy, through large sheep parks, and 

 so over Eskdale Muir, where the Cheviot and curlew 

 are monopolists. The homestead of ^^ Twiglees'^ own 

 brother to " Terrona,'^ and a great Highland Society 

 winner at one time, is a little to the left, and at last 

 a turn and a dip in the road reveal Eskdale church. 

 Young Thomas Brydon was laid there soon after. 

 He was in a very failing state at the last Beattock 

 sale, and a winter spent, with a very devoted friend, 

 between France and Torquay quite failed to restore 

 him. Few young men gave higher promise as a 

 flockmaster, and his death was a very deep sorrow 

 to those who knew him best. There, too, stands a 

 pillar to the memory of the Rev. Dr. Brown, who 

 laboured summer and winter for forty years in that 

 quiet spot, where " the pedlar was murdered down 

 yonder," and where the shepherds still assemble in 

 a " Cameronian meeting-house.'^ 



A ford has to be crossed, and then in the distance 

 beneath the fir-capped scaur we catch our first 

 glimpse of Moodlaw. Tliree counties meet just above 

 the steading at Cracksmuir Hill ; but really, what 

 with eternal heather and sheep parks, we had long 

 since lost all county distinctions. Mr. Brydon has 

 four farms in all, two of them in Selkirkshire ; and 

 Moodlaw, with its moor, moss, bog, and lea, is about 

 the best pasture in the south of Scotland. Eskdale 



