grandmother of the writer of this article died at the advanced age of one hundred and four; her age was correctly known. She said that Wull Marshal was a man when she was a bitt callant (provincially, in Galloway, a very young girl). She had no doubt as to his being fifteen or sixteen years older than herself, and he survived her several years. His long reign, if not glorious, was in the main fortunate for himself and his people. Only one great calamity befel him and them during that long space of time in which he held the reins of government. It may have been already suspected, that with Billy Marshal ambition was aruling passion; and this bane of human fortune had stimulated in him a desire to extend his dominions, from the Brigg end of Dumfries to the Newton of Ayr, at a time when he well knew the Braes of Glen-Nap, and the Water of Doon, to be his western precinct. He- reached the Newton of Ayr, which I believe is in Kyle; but there he was opposed, and compelled to recross the river, by a powerful body of tinkers from Argyle or Dumbarton. He said, in his bulletins, that they were supported by strong bodies of Irish sailors, and Kyle colliers. Billy had no artillery, but his cavalry and infantry suffered severely. He was obliged to leave a great part of his baggage, provisions, and camp equipage, behind him, consisting of kettles, pots, pans, blankets, crockery, horns, pigs, poultry, &c. A large proportion of shelties, asses, and mules, were driven into the water and drowned, which occasioned a heavy loss, in creels, panniers, hampers, tinkers' tools, and cooking utensils; and although he was as well appointed, as to a medical staff, as such expeditions usually were, in addition to those who were missing, many died of their wounds. However, on reaching Maybole with his broken and disspirited troops, he was joined by a faithful ally from the county of Down; who, unlike other allies on such occasions, did not forsake him in his adversity. This junction enabled our hero to rally, and pursue in bis turn: a pitched battle was again fought, somewhere about

the Brigg of Doon or Alloway Kirk; when both sides, as is usual, claimed a victory: but however this may have been, it is believed that this disaster, which happened A. D. 1712, had slaked the thirst of Billy's ambition. He was many years in recovering from the effects of this great political error; indeed, it had nearly proved as fatal to the fortunes of Billy Marshal as the ever memorable Russian campaign did to Napoleon Bonaparte, about the same year in the succeeding century.

It is usual for writers to give the character along with the death of their prince or hero : I would like to be excused from the performance of any such task as drawing the character of Billy Marshal; but it may be done in a few words, by saying that he had from nature a strong mind, with a vigorous and active person; and that, either naturally or by acquirement, he possessed every mental and personal quality which was requisite for one who was placed in his high station, and who held sovereign power over his fellow creatures for so great a length of time: I would be glad if I could, with impartiality, close my account here; but it becomes my duty to add, that (from expediency, it is believed, not from choice) with the exception of intemperate drinking, treachery, and ingratitude, he practised every crime which is incident to human nature,-those of the deepest dye, I am afraid, cannot with truth be included in the exception: in short, his people met with an irreparable loss in the death of their king and leader; but it never was alleged that the moral world sustained any loss by the death of the man.

RACHEL BAILLEY.

A woman of the name of Rachel Bailley, a few years ago, in Selkirkshire, afforded a remarkable evidence of the force of her gipsy habits and propensities. This woman, having been guilty of repeated acts of theft, was condemned by Mr. W. Scott, sheriff of that county, to imprisonment in the bridewell there, on hard labour, for six months. She became so excessively wearied of

the confinement, to which she had not been accustomed, and so impatient of the labour of spinning, although she span well, that she attempted suicide, by opening her veins with the point of a pair of scissors. In compassion for her state of mind, she was set at liberty by the magistrate; but she had not travelled farther than Yair bridge-end, being about four miles from Selkirk, when she thought proper to steal a watch from a cottage, and being taken with it in her possession, was restored to her place of confinement, just about four hours after she had been dismissed from it. She was afterwards banished the country.

JEAN GORDON.

Old Jean Gordon of Yetholm, who had great sway among her tribe, 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 farmers' property. But her sons (nine in number) had not, it seems, the same delicacy, and stole a broodsow from their kind entertainer. Jean was so much mortified at this ungrateful conduct, and so much ashamed at it, that she absented herself from Lochside for several years. At length, in consequence of some temporary pecuniary necessity, the Goodman of Lochside was obliged to go to Newcastle to get some money to pay his rent. 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; and to meet with such a character in so solitary a place, and probably at no great distance from her clan, was a terrible surprise to the poor man, whose rent (to lose

son.

which would have been ruin to him) was about his perJean set up a loud shout of joyful recognitionEh, sir! the winsome gude man of Lochside! Light down, light down; for ye manna 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 supper, which the farmer, to the great increase of his anxiety, observed was calculated for ten or twelve guests of the same description, no doubt, with his landlady. Jean left him in no doubt on the subject. She brought up the story of the stolen sow, and noticed how much pain and vexation it had given her. Like other philosophers, she remarked that the world grows 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, that he would make her his purse-keeper, as the bairns, so she called her sons, would be soon home. The poor farmer made a virtue of necessity, told his story, and surrendered his gold into Jean's custody. She made him put a few shillings in his pocket, observing it would excite suspicion should he be found travelling altogether pennyless. This arrangement being made, the farmer lay down on a sort of shake-down, as the Scotch call it, 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 their 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 for 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 hame wi' a toom purse and a sair heart." "That may be, Jean," replied

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one of the banditti; "but we maun ripe his pouches a bit, and see if it be true or no.' Jean set up her throat in exclamations against this breach of hospitality, but without producing any change of 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 Gordon 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 Jean's remonstrances, determined them in the negative. They caroused, and went to rest. So soon as day dawned, Jean roused her guest, produced his horse, which she had accommodated behind the hallan, 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 of Jedburgh say, that all Jean's sons were condemned to die there on the same day. It is said that 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'." 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 poor Jean was in many respects wholly undeserving. Jean had among other demerits, or merits, as you may choose to rank it, that of being a stanch Jacobite. She chanced to be at Carlisle upon a fair or market day, 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, they inflicted upon poor Jean Gordon no slighter penalty than that of ducking her to death in the Eden. It was an operation of some time, for Jean was a stout woman, and, struggling with her murderers, often got