the mountains. Those men are a wonder, for I'm told they can tell a
lamb from their own ewes before it is marked; and that when they
have five hundred sheep on the hills--five hundred is a big
number--they don't need to count them or reckon them at all, but
they just walk here and there where they are, and if one is gone
away they'll miss it from the rest.'

Then a woman came up and spoke to the tinker, and they went down the
road together into the village. 'That man is a great villain,' said
the herd, when he was out of hearing. 'One time he and his woman
went up to a priest in the hills and asked him would he wed them for
half a sovereign, I think it was. The priest said it was a poor
price, but he'd wed them surely if they'd make him a tin can along
with it. "I will, faith," said the tinker, "and I'll come back when
it's done." They went off then, and in three weeks they came back,
and they asked the priest a second time would he wed them. "Have you
the tin can?" said the priest. "We have not," said the tinker; "we
had it made at the fall of night, but the ass gave it a kick this
morning the way it isn't fit for you at all." "Go on now," says the
priest. "It's a pair of rogues and schemers you are, and I won't wed
you at all." They went off then, and they were never married to this
day.'

As I went up again through the village a great sale of old clothing
was going on from booths at each side of the road, and further on
boots were set out for sale on boards laid across the tops of
barrels, a very usual counter. In another place old women were
selling quantities of damaged fruit, kippered herrings, and an
extraordinary collection of old ropes and iron. In front of a
public-house a ballad-singer was singing a song in the middle of a