While the mountains of the Scottish Highlands are haunted by deer, the valleys are the pasture ground for large flocks of sheep. Here our painter, Landseer, made the acquaintance of two unique characters, the Highland shepherd and his dog. In former times the shepherds of Scotland were no ordinary men. The loneliness of the life in these wilds left an impress upon their nature, making it stern and serious. Not infrequently great readers were found among them, and even poets. The Ettrick shepherd James Hogg was one of Scotland's first men of letters.

The poet Wordsworth, whose boyhood was passed in the north of England, describes in "The Prelude" his admiration for the shepherds of that region:—

The shepherd would be helpless without his dog, the collie, whose astuteness and skill can hardly be overstated. The trained sheep dog learns to know every individual member of the flock, so that if a straggler goes beyond bounds, he will reclaim it; if an intruder enters he will drive it out. When the flock is to be led home, he gathers the scattered portions into a compact body and keeps them in the way. A sagacious dog belonging to Hogg once amazed his master by gathering together a flock of seven hundred lambs which had broken up at midnight and scattered in three directions.

The collie is fitted by nature with special qualifications for his peculiar work. His neck is long and arched, that he may put his nose well to the ground and stretch it when running. His half pricked ears are the best possible for distinguishing sounds at a distance, and the part that falls over protects the inner ear from the rain. His thick coat is proof against rain, snow, or wind, and the heavy mane shields the most vulnerable part of his chest, like a natural lung protector. With bare hind legs, long and springy, he can make his way easily in the heather. The long, tapering muzzle gives a peculiarly intelligent look to the face. An authority on dogs says, "There is, if the expression may be used, a philosophic look about him which shows thought, patience, energy, and vigilance."

The shepherd and his dog are constant companions from dawn to sunset, sharing the responsibilities of their charge. Common hardships seem to knit the friendship, and the tie between them is unusually close. We can easily understand that a faithful dog deprived of his master would mourn him deeply. Such grief is the subject of our picture, The Highland Shepherd's Chief Mourner.

An old shepherd living alone in his rude cottage has thrown down his hat and staff for the last time. His neighbors have prepared his body for decent burial, the coffin has been closed and nailed, and now stands on the trestles ready for removal. The shepherd's plaid has been laid over it as a sort of pall, and a bit of green is added by some reverent hand. For the moment the house is deserted, and the dog is left alone with all that represents his master's life to him. His mute grief is intensely pathetic; speech could not express more plainly his utter despair.

A beautiful description by Ruskin suggests the important points to notice in the picture,—"the close pressure of the dog's breast against the wood, the convulsive clinging of the paws, which has dragged the blanket off the trestle, the total powerlessness of the head laid close and motionless upon its folds, the fixed and tearful fall of the eye in its utter hopelessness, the rigidity of repose which marks that there has been no motion or change in the trance of agony since the last blow was struck on the coffin-lid, the quietness and gloom of the chamber, the spectacles marking the place where the Bible was last closed, indicating how lonely has been the life—how unwatched the departure of him who is now laid solitary in his sleep."

The critic shows that the skill with which the painting is executed, remarkable as it is, is not so great a thing to praise the painter for as the imagination which could conceive so pathetic a scene. The picture is, he says, "one of the most perfect poems which modern times have seen."

The incident which Landseer imagined has doubtless many a parallel in actual life. There is a story of a traveller who was killed by a fall from a precipice near Mt. Helvellyn. Three months later his remains were discovered, watched over by the faithful dog. Scott's poem "Helvellyn" commemorates the incident,[21] and the line telling how—

expresses well the spirit of our picture.