"It is neither for your sake nor my sake That I ride stang; But it is for Nancy Thomson, Who did her husband hang. But if I hear tell that she doth rebel, Or him to complain, with fife and drum Then we will come, And ride the stang again. With a ran tan tang, And a ran tan tan tang," &c. The conclusion of this local custom is generally ended at the market cross, (if any,) or in the middle of the hamlet; after which, one of the posse goes round with a hat, begging the contributions of those present; they then regale themselves at some of the village ale-shops, out of the proceeds of the day's merriment.--Brand and Strutt mention this custom; as does Brigg, in his "Westmoreland as it was." J.W. _Preston, Lancashire._ * * * * * THE SKETCH-BOOK. [The following characteristic sketch having been presented to me by a friend as, to the best of his knowledge, an unpublished _morceau_ by the celebrated Ettrick Shepherd, I have by his permission the pleasure of adding it, to the many interesting _cabinet pictures_, already preserved in this department of the MIRROR.--M.L.B.] ROVER. Rover is now about six years old. He was born half a year before our eldest girl; and is accordingly looked upon as a kind of elder brother by the children. He is a small, beautiful liver-coloured spaniel, but not one of your goggle-eyed Blenheim breed. He is none of your lap dogs. No, Rover has a soul above that. You may make him your friend, but he scorns to be a pet. No one can see him without admiring him, and no one can know him without loving him. He is as regularly inquired after as any other member of the family; for who that has ever known Rover can forget him? He has an instinctive perception of his master's friends, to whom he metes out his caresses in the proportion of their attachment to the chief object of his affections. When I return from an absence, or when he meets an old friend of mine, or of his own (which is the same thing to him) his ecstacy is unbounded; he tears and curvets about the room as if mad; and if out of doors, he makes the welkin ring with his clear and joyous note. When he sees a young person in company he immediately selects him for a play fellow. He fetches a stick, coaxes him out of the house, drops it at his feet; then retiring backwards, barking, plainly indicates his desire to have it thrown for him. He is never tired of his work. Indeed, I fear poor fellow, that his teeth, which already show signs of premature decay, have suffered from the diversion. But though Rover has a soul for fun, yet he is a game dog too. There is not a better cocker in England. In fact he delights in sport of every kind, and if he cannot have it with me, he will have it on his own account. He frequently decoys the greyhounds out and finds hares for them. Indeed he has done me some injury in this way, for if he can find a pointer loose, he will, if possible, seduce him from his