woman, joining hands at the head, walk slowly
down towards the tail—the horse between them
—saying certain sentences together.  By another
version, they  "walk three times round the
body of the horse contrariwise, passing and
crossing each other at certain points, as they
proceed in opposite directions.  At certain parts
of the horse (the corners of the horse was the
gipsy's expression), such as the hind and fore
feet, the shoulders and haunches, the head and
tail, the parties halt and face each other, and
again repeat sentences in their own speech at
each time they halt.  The two last stops they
make in their circuit round the sacrifice are at
the head and tail.  At the head they again face
each other and speak; and, lastly, at the tail they
again confront each other, utter some more gipsy
expressions, shake hands, and finally part, the
one going north, the other south, never again to
be united in this life."  Immediately after the
separation takes place, the woman receives a
token of cast iron, about an inch and a half
square, with a T upon it, and which she must
always wear about her person.  A divorced
woman cannot marry again, but the husband
may have as many wives as he likes to marry,
and sacrifice a horse to get rid of afterwards.

In this longer account the horse is made, in a
manner, the scapegoat and representative of the
woman.  Perfect and free, it is turned loose,
and by its manner of going sets forth the degree
of her sin.  If wild and difficult to be caught,
leaping dykes and ditches, and plunging madly
along, the woman is held to have been infamous
and guilty exceedingly; and if the beast is wild
out of all bounds of charity to endure, both
horse and woman are sacrificed together.  If
calm, and mild, and docile, and easily caught,
the woman is held to be not so very guilty after
all, and the scapegoat may bear her sins very
well.  When McDonald divorced his wife Eppie
Lundie, one Mr. Allan Ramsay came upon them
unexpectedly in a hollow, and saw them walk
hand in hand on either side of the dead horse
till they came to the tail, when silently they
parted, each proceeding in a different direction,
as if going on a journey.  Mr. Ramsay said he
never could forget the violent swing which
McDonald gave his wife at parting.  The Russian
gipsies also sacrifice horses on occasions; and it
seems as if the custom can be traced to Hindustan,
the gipsies' land of adoption and second
cradle, so to speak.  The Yetholm gipsies, more
prudent than the rest of their brethren, only
knock down their "cuddies," or donkeys, when
they separate from their wives, which answers
all the purpose of the more expensive
sacrifice.

The true gipsy is faithful to his friends and
those who grant him squatting-room on their
lands, and "dog's payment;"  "for it's only day
and way we want, ye ken, what a farmer body
ne'er can miss; forbye selling a spoon, and
tinkering a kettle now and then;"  and none but
the exceedingly ill disposed will steal of those
who let them camp on their ground and who
treat them kindly.  There are many anecdotes
of gratitude and fidelity in the book before us;
one of old Jean Gordon, a Meg Merrilies in her
way, who saved the purse of the "winsome
gudeman o' Lochside, poor boy," in consideration
of old kindness shown by him, and ill repaid
by the thievery of her tribe.  The winsome
gudeman losing his way among the Cheviot
Hills, came to a large waste barn, where, seeing
a light, he entered—encountering Jean Gordon
the gipsy.  She made him give her his purse,
retaining only a few shillings as a blind to her
greedy sons when they returned; and she apologised
for and regretted the thefts of which those
nine sons had been guilty, and which had sent
her away from Lochside, in gipsy shame at this
ungipsy-like sin.  Then she made him a shake-
down, and sent him to bed.  Presently, her
gang returned; and soon a scene of Fee Faw Fum
in little was enacted, as they found out their
guest, and asked his name and quality.

"It's the winsome gudeman o' Lochside,
poor boy," said Jean; "he's been at Newcastle
seeking siller to pay his rent, honest man, but
deil-be-licket he's been able to gather in; and
sae he's gaun e'en name wi' a toom purse and a
sair heart."

"That may be, Jean,"  said one,  "but we
maun rip his pouches a bit, and see if it be true
or no."

Which they did, for all that Jean "set up her
throat" against such inhospitality.  They found
nothing worth taking; so they made a virtue of
necessity, and left his few poor bawbees intact;
and the next morning Jean guided him safely to
the high road, gave him back his property
which she had concealed for security, and would
not accept a single sixpence for her reward.
Her nine sons were all hanged on the same day
at Jedburgh; and she herself, poor old soul,
was drowned in the Eden, shouting to the last,
"Charlie yet, Charlie yet."

In like manner, Mary Yorkston, another
gipsy chieftainess, protected Mr. Lindsay, the
gudeman of Coulter Park, when her tribe had
begun to plunder him.  She also gave back his
purse to a favourite farmer of hers, who had
lost it in the market.  Matthew Baillie, who
was her head man, spreading from twenty to
thirty purses before the farmer, desired him to
lift his own.  As he did so, Baillie took it from
his hand, saying,  "Hold on; let us count it
first."  Then, with as much coolness as if he
was a Lombard-street banker transacting quite
legitimate business, he counted the contents;
when not a farthing was found wanting.  "You
see what it is when honest people meet!" said
Baillie, with virtuous self-satisfaction, as he
returned the purse to the owner.  Another noted
captain, Will Baillie, of the same tribe, paid a
widow's rent and saved her from ruin in quite
a fine and melodramatic style; and the very men
and women, whose "sorning" or masterful
begging was next door to robbery, would forego
their own advantage if touched on the point of
fidelity or gratitude.  Charles Graham, one of
the Lochgellie band, once did a very clever bit
of dishonest generosity.  A woman with a large