Found this regarding Isabella Johnstone Mid Murthat.
Tib o'the Murthat
And so Tib was dead.That was the news that met me as I alighted from the train. Her proper name wasIsabella Johnstone of the Mid-Murthat, but she was known throughtout the parish best as Tib o' the Murthat.She was the last surviving sister of a family of four, two brothers and sisters - who had farmed the Mid Murthat, and whose forbears had farmed it before them for at least three generations.Tib liked fine to tell you about the days that were past and gone,of the stories her mother used to tell her of even remoter days when Prince charlies men supped broth from the wooden bowie which is still in the possession of the family to this day; of the horses which where hid behind the Polden hill for fear the Highlanders would take them away with them on their raid into England.Then you had to view all the curios she had gathered together from the ends of the earth and everyone of which she had the history of, at her tongue tip.
And if you were a previleged person she showed you her rockery, with its wonderful miniature glens; itsmass of various plants and flowers which had come from all over scotland, some from fellow botonists who knew her passion for flowers, and quite a few that she had collected herself while on a visit to friends: everyone had its history and name (though it might not be the proper botanical one), where she got it, and how; but after she had told you all about them, this little rockery and garden took on a new aspect.Why, here were scotlands wild flowers all represented; ehy need to go further a field A fine view of Wamphray is obtainable from this little garden, but Tib did not like you to mention it until you had heard and seen all about her flowers, and then she would likelypoint it out to you herself if you had not already noticed it. Then she took a special care in all the gangrel bodies who asked for shelter or food.None was turned away.They knew her, and she had to know all about their troubles or joys, whatever the case may be.Such was Tib.We laid her to restin the quiet peaceful churchyard of Kirkpatrick juxta.Spring was in the air everything was springing to life.
One looks right into moffat dale from where Tib lies; it is all just as she would have wished, and as I stoodat that open grave, methinks I heard a voice from heaven saying:-"well done, good and faithfull servant, though hast been faithful over a few things.I will make you faithful over many".