"It happened at a small country town that Scott suddenly required medical advice for one of his servants, and, on inquiring if there was any doctor at the place, was told that there were two,--one long established, and the other a newcomer. The latter gentleman, being luckily found at home, soon made his appearance;--a grave, sagacious-looking personage, attired in black, with a shovel hat, in whom, to his utter astonishment, Sir Walter recognized a Scotch blacksmith, who had formerly practised, with tolerable success, as a veterinary operator in the neighborhood of Ashestiel.--'How, in all the world,' exclaimed he, 'can it be possible that this is John Lundie?'--'In troth is it, your honor--just _a' that's for him_.'--'Well, but let us hear; you were a _horse_-doctor before; now, it seems, you are a _man_-doctor; how do you get on?'--'Ou, just extraordinar weel; for your honor maun ken my practice is vera sure and orthodox. I depend entirely upon twa _simples_.'--'And what may their names be? Perhaps it is a secret?'--'I'll tell your honor,' in a low tone; 'my twa simples are just _laudamy_ and _calamy_!'--'Simples with a vengeance!' replied Scott. 'But, John, do you never happen to _kill_ any of your patients?'--'Kill? Ou ay, may be sae! Whiles they die, and whiles no;--but it's the will o' Providence. _Ony how, your honor, it wad be lang before it makes up for Flodden!_'"[5] It was also in the course of this expedition that Scott first made acquaintance with the late excellent and venerable Shute Barrington, Bishop of Durham. The travellers having reached Auckland over night were seeing the public rooms of the Castle at an early hour next morning, when the Bishop happened, in passing through one of them, to catch a glimpse of Scott's person, and immediately recognizing him, from the likeness of the engravings by this time multiplied, introduced himself to the party, and insisted upon acting as cicerone. After showing them the picture-gallery and so forth, his Lordship invited them to join the morning service of the chapel, and when that was over, insisted on their remaining to breakfast. But Scott and his Lordship were by this time so much pleased with each other that they could not part so easily. The good Bishop ordered his horse, nor did Scott observe without admiration the proud curvetting of the animal on which his Lordship proposed to accompany him during the next stage of his progress. "Why, yes, Mr. Scott," said the gentle but high-spirited old man, "I still like to feel my horse under me." He was then in his seventy-ninth year, and survived to the age of ninety-two, the model in all things of a real prince of the Church. They parted after a ride of ten miles, with mutual regret; and on all subsequent rides in that direction, Bishop-Auckland was one of the poet's regular halting-places.[6]