The custom of 'riding the stang' is now obsolete, so that the date of this story must be put back a number of years, though Mr. Brockett,[19] writing in his glossary of Northumbrian words, in the early part of this century, says, 'I have myself been witness to processions of this kind. Offenders of this description are mounted a-straddle on a long pole, or stang, supported upon the shoulders of their companions. On this painful and fickle seat they are borne about the neighbourhood backwards, attended by a swarm of children huzzaing and throwing all manner of filth. It is considered a mark of the highest reproach, and the person who has been thus treated seldom recovers his character in the opinion of his neighbours.' The method of divination by the puddings has been practised within living memory, and even yet may be resorted to by way of a jest upon occasion. Since writing the above the author has come across in Mr. R. Blakeborough's interesting book, 'Yorkshire Wit, Character and Customs,' a different version of 'riding the stang,' to which he is indebted for the first four lines of the 'furrinor's' song. In a footnote Mr. Blakeborough adds that the 'stang' was ridden at Thoralby, Wensleydale, as recently as October, 1896. There was French blood in Geordie Robertson's wife, Mary, and it may perhaps have been owing to her origin that she was so eager for revenge when she found herself deceived by her husband. She had begun to suspect him of infidelity even before a neighbour had given her a hint that he had a 'fancy' wife away in Bridgeton, for her husband brought home less and less with his 'pack' after his weekly tramp was over, and when she asked for explanations he 'called' her with most abusive virulence. For her further satisfaction she determined to make trial, now that the pig was to be killed, of the ancient method of divination practised by the pit-wives, of which the following is the ritual: When the animal has been slaughtered and the blood duly made into puddings, these puddings are 'set away' to boil by the inquirer of the oracle. Then, just before they are taken out of the 'pot,' the officiating priestess must say aloud that she 'gives them' to him who is suspected of infidelity. Should the puddings emerge whole, gossip is dumfoundered; should they come forth broken, the man is proved to have a 'fancy' wife. Mary, indeed, found she could scarcely control her impatience when the fatal day came, and, the pig duly slaughtered, she 'gave' the puddings to her husband, Geordie. She waited another minute to give the spell the lawful grace, then with a trembling hand plucked forth the puddings. 'Ah--ah!' she gasped, tremulous but triumphant, 'then it is so; he has a fancy wife,' and her quick brain fell to pondering a plan for discovery and revenge.