Ascending the vale, and just behind the house, we come to a considerable holm or green, with the babbling burn, now gentler in its movement, winding sweetly among the white pebbles. At the head of this quiet retreat, on the edge of the burn, are the ruins of an ancient washing-house, protected by an aged thorn. It was here that the "twa lasses" proposed to wash their "claes," unseen by their lovers. "A flowery howm between twa verdant braes, Where lasses use to wash and spread their claes, A trotting burnie wimpling through the ground; Its channel pebbles shining smooth and round." A little further up the burn we come to a hollow, a little beyond what is called "Mary's Bower," where the Esk divides it in the middle, and forms a linn or cascade, called the "How Burn;" a small enclosure above is called the "Braehead Park;" and this hollow beneath the cascade with its bathing pool and little green, its rocks and birches, its wild shrubs and natural flowers, and general air of sequestered and romantic beauty, in every respect corresponds with the poet's exquisite description of the spot called "Habbie's Howe." "Gae farer up the burn to Habbie's Howe, Where a' the sweets o' spring and summer grow, There, 'tween twa birks out ower a little linn, The water fa's and mak's a singand din;[20] A pule breast deep, beneath as clear as glass, Kisses wi' easy whirls the bordering grass." [Footnote 20: Singing noise.] Ascending yet further, at a place called the "Carlops," (a contraction of "Carline's Loups," so called, in consequence of a witch or carline having been seen leaping, at night, from one rock to another,) two tall rocks shoot up on either side. Near this, by the side of that old ash tree, stood Mause's Cottage. "The open field, a cottage in a glen, An auld wife spinning at the sunny end, At a sma' distance, by a blasted tree, Wi faulded arms and half-raised look, ye see Bauldy his lane!"[21] "A green kail-yard; a little fount, Where water poplin springs; There sits a wife[22] wi' wrinkled front, An' yet she spins and sings." [Footnote 21: Alone.] [Footnote 22: Old woman.] With these localities in our mind, let us sit down on this "gowan'd brae," and run over the story of "The Gentle Shepherd," one of the most graphic pictures of Scottish manners, and one of the sweetest pastorals in any language. Patie or Patrick, a humble shepherd-lad, born and bred in the region we have entered, about the middle of the seventeenth century, was a handsome fellow, and remarkably distinguished for his good temper and rustic accomplishments. He was of a gay-hearted cheerful disposition, and made the woods and hills ring again with his mirthful songs. Moreover, he was sensible and well-informed. His mind, indeed, was superior to his station; still he was contented and happy.