tained from committing any depredations on the farmer's property. But
her sons (nine in number) had not, it seems, the same delicacy, and stole
a brood-sow from their kind entertainer. Jean was mortified at this
ungrateful conduct, and so much ashamed of it that she absented herself
from Lochside for several years.

'It happened in course of time that, in consequence of some temporary
pecuniary necessity, the goodman of Lochside was obliged to go to
Newcastle to raise some money to pay his rent. He succeeded in his
purpose, but, returning through the mountains of Cheviot, he was
benighted and lost his way.

'A light glimmering through the window of a large waste barn, which had
survived the farm-house to which it had once belonged, guided him to a
place of shelter; and when he knocked at the door it was opened by Jean
Gordon. Her very remarkable figure, for she was nearly six feet high, and
her equally remarkable features and dress, rendered it impossible to
mistake her for a moment, though he had not seen her for years; and to
meet with such a character in so solitary a place, and probably at no
great distance from her clan, was a grievous surprise to the poor man,
whose rent (to lose which would have been ruin) was about his person.

'Jean set up a loud shout of joyful recognition--

"Eh, sirs! the winsome gudeman of Lochside! Light down, light down; for
ye maunna gang farther the night, and a friend's house sae near." The
farmer was obliged to dismount and accept of the gipsy's offer of supper
and a bed. There was plenty of meat in the barn, however it might be come
by, and preparations were going on for a plentiful repast, which the
farmer, to the great increase of his anxiety, observed was calculated for
ten or twelve guests, of the same description, probably, with his
landlady.

'Jean left him in no doubt on the subject. She brought to his
recollection the story of the stolen sow, and mentioned how much pain and
vexation it had given her. Like other philosophers, she remarked that the
world grew worse daily; and, like other parents, that the bairns got out
of her guiding, and neglected the old gipsy regulations, which commanded
them to respect in their depredations the property of their benefactors.
The end of all this was an inquiry what money the farmer had about him;
and an urgent request, or command, that he would make her his
purse-keeper, since the bairns, as she called her sons, would be soon
home. The