er, and his adopted son, with three
or four farm-servants, all mounted on light, but strong and active
horses, accustomed to the character of the country, set out for Whitsome
fair.

They arrived at Whitsome before noon on the following day, having
crossed the Tweed at Coldstream. There was one individual in the fair
who had some hundred head of cattle exhibited for sale, and that was old
Cunningham of Simprin. He himself was present; but he took but small
interest in the transactions, for he was becoming old, and was in
general melancholy; and a nephew, whom he intended to make his heir,
accompanied him, and in most matters made bargains for him and in his
name.

Now, Sandy Reed, after walking through the market, said the only lot
that would suit him was that of Cunningham of Simprin. We may here
observe that, throughout the day, young Patrick became thoughtful and
more thoughtful. Even the presence of Anne, who leaned upon his arm,
could hardly summon up a passing smile into his features.

After much disputing and sore bargain-making, Sandy Reed, at a good
round sum, became the purchaser of all the stock that old Walter
Cunningham exhibited in the fair. And when the bargain had been
completed, the seller, the buyer, and their servants, retired to a booth
together; the former to treat his customer with a bottle, and the latter
to spend the "luck-penny," which, on such occasions, he was wont to say,
would burn a hole in his pocket before he got home.

Both were men who were accustomed to drink deep--for old Cunningham had
sought to drown his sorrows in the bottle; and what would have been
death to another man took no effect upon him. Sandy saw him swallow
glass after glass, without his countenance betraying any symptom of
change, with vexation; for he had never before met with a superior,
either at the bacchanalian board, or at aught else. But, as the liquor
went round, the old men began to forget their age (and for a time, for
the first time, Walter Cunningham forgot his sorrows), and they boasted
of what they had done; and forgetful that each was above threescore,
they were ever and anon about to profess what they could still do; but
on such occasions, Anne Reed, who sat by her father's elbow, gently and
unobserved, admonished him.

Now, when Sandy found that he might not speak of what he could do, he
thought there could be no harm in saying what his adopted son Patrick
could do. He offered to match him at anyth