By the Rev. W. C. Plenderteath. 263 
not omit to chronicle was what was known as “ The Cherhill Gang.” 
This was a company of foot-pads, who no doubt found abundant 
exercise for their vocation upon the lonely downs above the village. 
There is a tradition that one of them was accustomed to go out upon 
his marauding expeditions in the summer time without a single 
stitch of clothing, and that he used to tell his neighbours that he 
did so because not only did such an apparition frighten people on a 
dark night, but that also a man thus wholly unadorned was less 
easily recognized than one who appeared in the ordinary costume of 
the period. The usage, must, however, I should think, have entailed 
’ some practical inconveniences with regard to the disposal of booty 
if trade was brisk; and also, if the victims did happen to show 
fight, it would have been apt to hurt! 
Our downs must have been queer places in those days for the 
belated traveller. I remember a story that our late neighbour, Mr. 
g Henry Merewether, was very fond of telling of how he was re- . 
turning one dark night from Devizes, where he had been defending 
a man charged with highway robbery. So clearly had he shown 
_ the jury that, notwithstanding the existence of suspicious circum- 
stances, his client was a man whom it was impossible for one 
“moment to suppose capable of such a crime, that the latter was 
_ triumphantly acquitted, and “ left the dock,” as the newspapers say, 
“without a stain upon his character.” But the same night, alas ! 
on the top of the downs, Mr. Merewether was himself requested to 
3 stand and deliver. And, still more sad to relate, the author of this 
“request was his maligned client of the same morning! Those of 
“us who remember Mr. Merewether will feel sure that the tale must 
have ended happily, and that whether by reason of his strong right 
arm or his persuasive tongue—(I think, if I remember rightly, it 
4 was the former) —he came off triumphantly, scot free. Very possibly 
there may be some persons still alive who recollect the existence of 
a gibbet on the downs between Cherhill and Beckhampton swinging 
about with the remains of a highwayman who had been hanged in 
‘chains for a robbery committed upon the subsequent site of his 
punishment. And I myself very distinctly remember that when 
I first came to live in Wiltshire at the beginning of 1561, my uncle, 
