"The farmer, after doing his business in the fair, got a little intoxicated in the evening; on which he thought he would call on Mr. Baillie, and give him a treat, for his kindness in restoring his purse; but on entering the house, the woman who kept it, a poor widow, fell on him and abused him sadly, asking him what he had done to cause Mr. Stewart, by which name she knew Mr. Baillie, to leave her house; and saying she had lost the best friend that ever she had, for always when he stayed a day or two in her house, (which he used to do twice a year,) he gave her as much as paid her half-year's rent; but after he, (the farmer,) called that day, Mr. Stewart, she said, left her house, telling her he could not stay with her any longer; but before he went, she said, he had given her what was to pay her half-year's rent, a resource, she lamented, she would lose in future. About two years afterwards, the farmer again had the curiosity to call on her, and ask her if her lodger had ever returned. She said he never had, but that, ever since, a stranger had called regularly, and given her money to pay her rent. "In the parish of Kirkmichael, about eight miles from Dumfries, lived a widow who occupied a small farm. As she had a number of young children, and no man to assist her, she fell behind in paying her rent, and at last got a summons of removal. She had a kiln that stood at a considerable distance from the other houses, which was much frequented by Baillie's people, when they came that way; and she gave them, at all times, peaceable possession, as she had no person to contend with them, or put them away, and she herself did not wish to differ with them. They, on the other hand, never molested anything she had. One evening, a number of them arrived rather late, and went into the kiln, as usual; after which, one came into the house, to ask a few peats, to make a fire. She gave the peats, saying she believed they would soon have to shift their quarters, as she herself was warned to flit, and she did not know if the next tenant would allow them such quiet possession, and she did not know what would become of herself and her helpless family. Nothing more was said, but, after having put her children to bed, as she was sitting by the fire, in a disconsolate manner, she heard a gentle tap at the door. On opening it, a genteel, well-dressed man entered, who told her he just wished to speak with her for a few minutes, and, sitting down, said he had heard she was warned to remove, and asked how much she was behind. She told him exactly. On which, rising hastily, he slipt a purse into her hand, and went out before she could say a single word.