The Highland Shepherd in London

Chapter II

“God look upon us in this city,
And keep our sympathy and pity
Fresh, and our faces heavenward,
Lest we grow hard.”
—Thomas Ashe.

Each returning summer brings almost to the door of the jaded townsman a bit of pure country life. For into this “roaring loom” which men call London comes annually from the Highlands a flock of sheep to graze on the scant grass of the much trodden commons. Ever since the custom was originated these sheep and their Highland guide have been to me a source of intense pleasure.

When I first made the acquaintance of the shepherd I was chiefly desirous of checking a statement made in several newspapers that the flock came hither by road, having been driven to London by easy stages—rather a startling assertion. To clear up this trivial matter at once, it may be said that the journey is made by rail, though, of . . .