There have been from time immemorial at Hawick, during the two or three
last weeks of the year, markets once a week, for the disposal of sheep
for slaughter, at which the greater number of people, both in the middle
and poorer classes of life, have been accustomed to provide themselves
with their _marts_. A poor man from Jedburgh who was on his way to
Hawick for the purpose of attending one of these markets, as he was
passing over that side of Rubislaw which is nearest the Teviot, was
suddenly alarmed by a frightful and unaccountable noise. The sound, as
he supposed, proceeded from an immense number of female voices, but no
objects whence it could come were visible. Amidst howling and wailing
were mixed shouts of mirth and jollity, but he could gather nothing
articulate except the following words--

"O there's a bairn born, but there's naething to pit on 't."

The occasion of this elfish concert, it seemed, was the birth of a fairy
child, at which the fairies, with the exception of two or three who were
discomposed at having nothing to cover the little innocent with, were
enjoying themselves with that joviality usually characteristic of such an
event. The astonished rustic finding himself amongst a host of invisible
beings, in a wild moorland place, and far from any human assistance,
should assistance be required, full of the greatest consternation,
immediately on hearing this expression again and again vociferated,
stripped off his plaid, and threw it on the ground. It was instantly
snatched up by an invisible hand, and the wailings immediately ceased,
but the shouts of mirth were continued with increased vigour. Being of
opinion that what he had done had satisfied his invisible friends, he
lost no time in making off, and proceeded on his road to Hawick, musing
on his singular adventure. He purchased a sheep, which turned out a
remarkably good bargain, and returned to Jedburgh. He had no cause to