170 OLD OXEN. 



men of substance in every sense of that word; 

 among them, I remember, was the father of 

 the young man so heartlessly and cruelly 

 sent to his last account by that inhuman 

 monster, Palmer. 



I remember about this time going into 

 a field at Redbourn, where there was a 

 drove of Highland oxen, on their way to 

 Barnet Fair. Observing three or four 

 among them with particularly large and 

 wide-spread horns, evidently worked oxen, 

 and otherwise shewing symptoms of ma- 

 ture age, I asked the drover a pure 

 Scotchman how old he might suppose 

 them to be. 



" Indeed," said Sawney, " I canna' say ; 

 they might have draw'd the 'tillery for 

 Charley at the battle of Culloden, for 

 aught I know!" 



The lace buyers were men of ordinary 

 capacity and ordinary conversation ; never- 

 theless, from them I learnt the nature of 



