“The woman is innocent as the child in her arms,” said Sally, as soon as she could speak. “A month or two in quod is nothing to me, but it’s hard to send an honest man’s wife there for nothing. I can’t stand that. I never thought it would come to this, or I would have spoken out sooner. I _stole the things_—every one of them—and I met her and gave her the shawl I had on, as her child was nearly dead with cold. I never knew the shawl was torn, or likely to be traced, or I’d never have given it. I gave her the stockings too—the first pair that came to hand in the bundle, and put them on her bairn with my own hands. The mother was half-frozen in her sleep, and at first I thought they were both dead. Just let her go, and shove me in her place, and the thing will be squared.” “She’s mad!—she’s drunk, and doesn’t know what she’s saying,” shouted the man who had assaulted her; but he was promptly removed and locked up, the immediate result of which was that he was discovered to be wearing a gentleman’s white shirt resembling one of those stolen, and having the tab cut away from the breast, and stitched down exactly like the one already described. Sally very speedily proved that she was neither mad nor drunk by revealing where all the stolen things had been disposed of, and stating that the tabs of the white shirts had been doctored by her own hands. Her companion was next day identified as the man who had sold one of the shirts, and the case was complete. Ellen Hunter, half frenzied with delight, was set at liberty and taken into her husband’s arms; and when our case was complete, Sally, instead of appearing as prisoner, was taken as a witness, and so moved every one that the Sheriff, before allowing her to be dismissed, thought fit to address to her a few words of strong commendation for her generous spirit and truly noble nature, at the same time advising her, in a kind and feeling manner, to try to get out of the debasing life for which she was so ill-suited. In vain! he might have saved his breath. Sally was too far gone to mend her ways; and, while her companion went to prison, she went drifting on to the death and destruction which speedily became her lot. But she left one green spot on her memory. How many such can each of us boast? A LIFT ON THE ROAD.