One morning in the month of January, I was informed that a woman had come into my kitchen, who occupied herself in watching the motions of the family, without stating her business. On going down, I found her well dressed and well looking, but with a very sinister cast of countenance. On asking if she wanted me, she said she had heard I was in want of some geese, and that she had a few to dispose of. “How many?” said I. “A goose and a gander,” she replied. “How much do you want for them?” “Seven-and-sixpence.” “Seven-and-sixpence!” I exclaimed in surprise, as the usual price then was from one shilling to one-and-sixpence each. “Why, how many have you?” as I really thought I had made a mistake in the number. “A goose and a gander,” said she. “And do you suppose me to be a goose to give such a price as that?” said I. “Oh!” said she, “they are good geese, and only I wish to serve you, I would not offer them at all.” “Indeed! I am much obliged by your good wishes,” said I; “but as I think you want to impose upon me, you must take your geese to another market, for I will not have them at any price, and the sooner you take yourself off the better.” She got highly offended, muttered something about my being sorry for refusing them, and went away in high dudgeon; and after she was gone, I found it was “the Hawk” who had favoured me with the visit. On the same morning, a gang of strollers, consisting of tinkers, chimney-sweeps, a brace or two of beggars, and a piper, had pitched their tent on the road side, a short distance from my residence; the members of the party had distributed themselves over the surrounding district in pursuit of their various avocations; it also happened to be churning-day, and my wife having set her vessels in order, was proceeding with her lacteal operations favourably--the milk had cracked, the butter was expected--when the sound of music was heard; the piper attached to the party had come to give us a specimen of his skill; he favoured us with a few Connaught planxties, was duly rewarded, and departed. Shortly after he was gone, two buxom baggages, brown and bare-legged, with cans in their hands, kerchiefs on their heads, and huge massive rings on their fingers, came and demanded an alms. They were told there was nothing then ready, on which one of them asked a drink. “I have nothing to offer you but water,” said my wife, “until the churning’s done.” “Well, water itself,” said she; on getting which, she took a sup or two, put the remainder in her can, and went off; and, strange as it may seem, my butter went too. And from that day in January until May eve following, not a morsel had we from our beautiful Brownie.