I was eager to learn whether he was perturbed by the stress and clamour of city life, but he declared that, if he had a preference, it was in favour of London, because “the sheep give less trouble,” one reason, it may be safely surmised, being the better provision of boundary fences. But in all things he is a practical philosopher, finding solace in his pipe, companionship in his collie, and pleasure in his work; hence, whether there be storm or shine, the hours pass by and leave him cheerful.
Some years ago the shepherd brought with him two dogs, both of them pure collies, but one was already superannuated, and was retained as a useful comrade and helper for the younger one. Two years later, the junior had developed into a fine sheep dog, and I was informed that she had had “twa puppies sin’ she came here.” They all slept under the shepherd’s hut, which will be shortly described. Of the two puppies, one is dead, and the other leads a blind man about in this very neighbourhood. The father of the puppies, “Tweed,” an old retainer, is still (1919) in full employment. Tweed’s father and mother were both winners in one of the famous dog competitions at Tring. But the shepherd does not greatly believe in these contests, though he has at least been once awarded first place for his dogs.
“If you are na’ careful it spoils the dowg, and it is unkind to the sheep. There was a contest in Aberdeenshire, and fifteen meenuts was allowed by the judge for the trial. So I spoke to him . . .”