t there was a little astonishment in that quarter too, and
plenty of jests, which the honest farmer speedily silenced, by telling
all who joked on the subject that he had given his lodger fair warning,
that, let people say what they would, he was quite determined not to
marry her: so that if she had any views that way, it would be better for
her to go elsewhere. This declaration, which must be admitted to have
been more remarkable for frankness than civility, made, however, no ill
impression on Mrs. Sally. To the farmer's she went, and at his house she
lives still, with her little maid, her tabby cat, a decrepit sheep-dog,
and much of the lumber of Court Farm, which she could not find in her
heart to part from. There she follows her old ways and her old hours,
untempted by matrimony, and unassailed (as far as I hear) by love or by
scandal, with no other grievance than an occasional dearth of employment
for herself and her young lass (even pewter dishes do not always want
scouring), and now and then a twinge of the rheumatism.

Here she is, that good relique of the olden time--for, in spite of her
whims and prejudices, a better and a kinder woman never lived--here she
is, with the hood of her red cloak pulled over her close black bonnet,
of that silk which once (it may be presumed) was fashionable, since
it is still called mode, and her whole stout figure huddled up in a
miscellaneous and most substantial covering of thick petticoats, gowns,
aprons, shawls, and cloaks--a weight which it requires the strength of a
thrasher to walk under--here she is, with her square honest visage,
and her loud frank voice;--and we hold a pleasant disjointed chat of
rheumatisms and early chickens, bad weather, and hats with feathers in
them;--the last exceedingly sore subject being introduced by poor Jane
Davis (a cousin of Mrs. Sally), who, passing us in a beaver bonnet, on
her road from school, stopped to drop her little curtsy, and was soundly
scolded for her civility. Jane, who is a gentle, humble, smiling
lass, about twelve years old, receives so many rebukes from her worthy
relative, and bears them so meekly, that I should not wonder if they
were to be followed by a legacy: I sincerely wish they may. Well, at
last we said good-bye; when, on inquiring my destination, and hearing
that I was bent to the ten-acre copse (part of the farm which she ruled
so long), she stopped me to tell a dismal story of two sheep-stealers
who, sixty years