had great sway among her tribe. She was quite a Meg Merrilies, and possessed the savage virtue of fidelity in the same perfection. Having been often hospitably received at the farm-house of Lochside, near Yetholm, she had carefully abstained 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 the course of time, that, in consequence of some temporary pecuniary necessity, the gudeman 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 the door 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 the gypsy's offer of a 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 observed, was calculated for ten or twelve guests. Jean 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 gypsy 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 pursekeeper, since the bairns would soon be home. The poor farmer made a virtue of necessity, told his story, and surrendered his gold to Jean's custody. She made him put a few shillings in his pocket, observing it would excite suspicion should he be found traveling altogether penniless. This arrangement being made, the farmer lay down on a sort of shake-down, as the Scotch call it, or bed-clothes disposed upon some straw, but, as will easily be believed, slept not. About midnight the gang returned, with various articles of plunder, and talked over their exploits in language which made the farmer tremble. They were not long in discovering they had a guest, and demanded of Jean whom she had got there.- E'en the winsome gudeman of Lochside, poor body,' replied Jean; 'he's been at Newcastle seeking siller to pay his rent, honest man, but deil-belickit he's been able to gather in, and sac he's gaun e'en hame wi' a toom purse and a sair heart.' That may be, Jean,' replied one of the banditti, but we maun rip his pouches a bit, and see if the tale be true or no.' Jean set up her throat in exclamations against this breach of hospitality, but without producing any change in their determination. farmer soon heard their stifled whispers and light steps by his bedside, and understood they were rummaging his clothes. When they found the money which the providence of Jean had made him retain, they held a consultation if they should take it or no; but the smallness of the booty and the vehemence of her remonstrances soon determined them in the negative. They caroused and went to rest. As soon as day dawned, Jean roused her guest, and guided him for some miles, till he was on the high road to Lochside. She then restored his whole property; nor could his earnest entreaties prevail on her to accept so much as a single guinea.

The

"I have heard the old people at Jedburgh say, that all Jean's sons were condemned to die there on the same day. It is said the jury were equally divided, but that a friend to justice, who had slept during the whole discussion, waked suddenly, and gave his vote for

condemnation, in the emphatic words, Hang them a'!' Unanimity is not required in a Scottish jury; so the verdict of guilty was returned. Jean was present, and only said, 'The Lord help the innocent in a day like this! Her own death was accompanied with circumstances of brutal outrage, of which she was in many respects wholly undeserving. She had, among other demerits (or merits, as the reader may choose to rank it) that of being a stanch Jacobite. She chanced to be at Carlisle upon a fair or marketday, soon after the year 1746, where she gave vent to her political partiality, to the great offence of the rabble of that city. Being zealous in their loyalty, when there was no danger, in proportion to the tameness with which they had surrendered to the Highlanders in 1745, the mob inflicted upon poor Jean no slighter penalty than that of ducking her to death in the Eden. It was an operation of some time, for she was a stout woman, and, struggling with her murderers, often got her head above water; and, while she had voice left, continued to exclaim at such intervals, Charlie yet! Charlie yet! When a child, and among the scenes which she frequented, I have often heard these stories, and cried piteously for poor Jean Gordon.

"Before quitting the border gypsies, I may mention, that my grandfather, while riding over Charterhouse moor, then a very extensive common, fell suddenly among a large band of them, who were carousing in a hollow of the moor, surrounded by bushes. They instantly seised his horse's bridle with many shouts of welcome, exclaiming (for he was well known to most of them,) that they had often dined at his expense, and he must now stay and share his good cheer. My ancestor was a little alarmed, for, like the gudeman of Lochside, he had more money about his person than he cared to risk in such society. However, being naturally a bold lively-spirited man, he entered into the humour of the thing, and sate down to the feast, which consisted of all the varieties of game, poultry, pigs, and so forth, that could be collected by a wide and indiscriminate system of plunder. The dinner was a very merry one; but my relative got a hint from some of the older gypsies to retire just when

The mirth and fun grew fast and furious,' and, mounting his horse accordingly, he

THE KING OF THE LOWLAND GYPSIES.

THE honor of sitting for the picture of Meg Merrilies has been given by many persons, but without sufficient authority, to Flora Marshall, who was highly distinguished in her time, being one of the numerous wives of Willie Marshall, king of the gypsy tribes that wandered over the western Lowlands of Scotland."That potentate (says Sir Walter Scott) was born in the parish of Kirkmichael, about the year 1672, and, as he died at Kirkcudbright in November, 1792, he must then have been about 120 years old. It cannot be said that this unusually long lease of existence was noted by any peculiar excellence of conduct or habits of life. Willie had been pressed or enlisted in the army seven times, and had deserted as often, beside three times running away from the naval service. He had been seventeen times lawfully married; and, beside such a large share of matrimonial comforts, he was, after his hundredth year, the avowed father of four children, by less legitimate affections. He subsisted in his extreme old age by a pension from the present earl of Selkirk's grandfather. He was buried in Kirkcudbright church, where his monument is still shown.

"In his youth he occasionally took an evening walk on the highway with the purpose of assisting travellers by relieving them of the weight of their purses. On one occasion he robbed the laird of Bargally. His purpose was not achieved

had great sway among her tribe. She was quite a Meg Merrilies, and possessed the savage virtue of fidelity in the same perfection. Having been often hospitably received at the farm-house of Lochside, near Yetholm, she had carefully abstained 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 the course of time, that, in consequence of some temporary pecuniary necessity, the gudeman 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 the door 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 the gypsy's offer of a 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 observed, was calculated for ten or twelve guests. Jean 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 gypsy 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 pursekeeper, since the bairns would soon be home. The poor farmer made a virtue of necessity, told his story, and surren dered his gold to Jean's custody. She made him put a few shillings in his pocket, observing it would excite suspicion should he be found traveling altogether penniless. This arrangement being made, the farmer lay down on a sort of shake-down, as the Scotch call it, or bed-clothes disposed upon some straw, but, as will easily be believed, slept not. About midnight the gang returned, with various articles of plunder, and talked over their exploits in language which made the farmer tremble. They were not long in discovering they had a guest, and demanded of Jean whom she had got there.- E'en the winsome gudeman of Lochside, poor body,' replied Jean; 'he's been at Newcastle seeking siller to pay his rent, honest man, but deil-belickit he's been able to gather in, and sac he's gaun e'en hame wi' a toom purse and a sair heart.' That may be, Jean,' replied one of the banditti, 'but we maun rip his pouches a bit, and see if the tale be true or no.' Jean set up her throat in exclamations against this breach of hospitality, but without producing any change in their determination. The farmer soon heard their stifled whispers and light steps by his bedside, and understood they were rummaging his clothes. When they found the money which the providence of Jean had made him retain, they held a consultation if they should take it or no; but the smallness of the booty and the vehemence of her remonstrances soon determined them in the negative. They caroused and went to rest. As soon as day dawned, Jean roused her guest, and guided him for some miles, till he was on the high road to Lochside. She then restored his whole property; nor could his earnest entreaties prevail on her to accept so much as a single guinea.

"I have heard the old people at Jedburgh say, that all Jean's sons were condemned to die there on the same day. It is said the jury were equally divided, but that a friend to justice, who had slept during the whole discussion, waked suddenly, and gave his vote for

condemnation, in the emphatic words, Hang them a'! Unanimity is not required in a Scottish jury; so the verdict of guilty was returned. Jean was present, and only said, 'The Lord help the innocent in a day like this! Her own death was accompanied with circumstances of brutal outrage, of which she was in many respects wholly undeserving. She had, among other demerits (or merits, as the reader may choose to rank it) that of being a stanch Jacobite. She chanced to be at Carlisle upon a fair or marketday, soon after the year 1746, where she gave vent to her political partiality, to the great offence of the rabble of that city. Being zealous in their loyalty, when there was no danger, in proportion to the tameness with which they had surrendered to the Highlanders in 1745, the mob inflicted upon poor Jean no slighter penalty than that of ducking her to death in the Eden. It was an operation of some time, for she was a stout woman, and, struggling with her murderers, often got her head above water; and, while she had voice left, continued to exclaim at such intervals, Charlie yet! Charlie yet! When a child, and among the scenes which she frequented, I have often heard these stories, and cried piteously for poor Jean Gordon.

"Before quitting the border gypsies, I may mention, that my grandfather, while riding over Charterhouse moor, then a very extensive common, fell sud. denly among a large band of them, who were carousing in a hollow of the moor, surrounded by bushes. They instantly seised his horse's bridle with many shouts of welcome, exclaiming (for he was well known to most of them,) that they had often dined at his expense, and he must now stay and share his good cheer. My ancestor was a little alarmed, for, like the gudeman of Lochside, he had more money about his person than he cared to risk in such society. However, being naturally a bold lively-spirited man, he entered into the humour of the thing, and sate down to the feast, which consisted of all the varieties of game, poultry, pigs, and so forth, that could be collected by a wide and indiscriminate system of plunder. The dinner was a very merry one; but my relative got a hint from some of the older gypsies to retire just when

took a French leave of his entertainers, without experiencing the least breach of hospitality. I believe Jean Gordon was at this festival.

"Notwithstanding the failure of Jean's issue, a grand-daughter survived her, whom I remember to have seen. That is, as Dr. Johnson had a shadowy recollection of queen Anne, as a stately lady in black, adorned with diamonds, so my memory is haunted by a solemn remembrance of a woman of more than female height, dressed in a long red cloak, who commenced acquaintance by giving me an apple, but whom, nevertheless, I looked on with as much awe as the future doctor, high-church and tory as he was doomed to be, could look upon the queen. I conceive this woman to have been Madge Gordon."

THE KING OF THE LOWLAND GYPSIES.

THE honor of sitting for the picture of Meg Merrilies has been given by many persons, but without sufficient authority, to Flora Marshall, who was highly distinguished in her time, being one of the numerous wives of Willie Marshall, king of the gypsy tribes that wandered over the western Lowlands of Scotland."That potentate (says Sir Walter Scott) was born in the parish of Kirkmichael, about the year 1672, and, as he died at Kirkcudbright in November, 1792, he must then have been about 120 years old. It cannot be said that this unusually long lease of existence was noted by any peculiar excellence of conduct or habits of life. Willie had been pressed or enlisted in the army seven times, and had deserted as often, beside three times running away from the naval service. He had been seventeen times lawfully married; and, beside such a large share of matrimonial comforts, he was, after his hundredth year, the avowed father of four children, by less legitimate affections. He subsisted in his extreme old age by a pension from the present earl of Selkirk's grandfather. He was buried in Kirkcudbright church, where his monument is still shown.

The mirth and fun grew fast and furious,'

had great sway among her tribe. She was quite a Meg Merrilies, and possessed the savage virtue of fidelity in the same perfection. Having been often hospi tably received at the farm-house of Lochside, near Yetholm, she had carefully abstained 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 the course of time, that, in consequence of some temporary pecuniary necessity, the gudeman 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 the door 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 the gypsy's offer of a 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 observed, was calculated for ten or twelve guests. Jean 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 gypsy regulations, which commanded them to respect, in

their depredations, the property of their bencfactors. 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 pursekeeper, since the bairns would soon be home. The poor farmer made a virtue of necessity, told his story, and surren dered his gold to Jean's custody. She made him put a few shillings in his pocket, observing it would excite suspicion should he be found traveling altogether penniless. This arrangement being made, the farmer lay down on a sort of shake-down, as the Scotch call it, or bed-clothes disposed upon some straw, but, as will easily be believed, slept not. About midnight the gang returned, with various articles of plunder, and talked over their exploits in language which made the farmer tremble. They were not long in discovering they had a guest, and demanded of Jean whom she had got there. E'en the winsome gudeman of Lochside, poor body,' replied Jean; 'he's been at Newcastle seeking siller to pay his rent, honest man, but deil-belickit he's been able to gather in, and sac he's gaun e'en hame wi' a toom purse and a sair heart. That may be, Jean,' replied one of the banditti, 'but we maun rip his pouches a bit, and see if the tale be true or no.' Jean set up her throat in exclamations against this breach of hospitality, but without producing any change in their determination. The farmer soon heard their stifled whispers and light steps by his bedside, and understood they were rummaging his clothes. When they found the money which the providence of Jean had made him retain, they held a consultation if they should take it or no; but the smallness of the booty and the vehemence of her remonstrances soon determined them in the negative. They caroused and went to rest. As soon as day dawned, Jean roused her guest, and guided him for some miles, till he was on the high road to Lochside. She then restored his whole property; nor could his earnest entreaties prevail on her to accept so much as a single guinea.

"I have heard the old people at Jedburgh say, that all Jean's sons were condemned to die there on the same day. It is said the jury were equally divided, but that a friend to justice, who had slept during the whole discussion, waked suddenly, and gave his vote for