in sullen silence and inactivity; then set about saddling and
loading their asses, and making preparations for their departure.
These were soon accomplished, where all had the habits of
wandering Tartars; and they set forth on their journey to seek new
settlements, where their patrons should neither be of the quorum
nor custos rotulorum.

Certain qualms of feeling had deterred Ellangowan from attending
in person to see his tenants expelled. He left the executive part
of the business to the officers of the law, under the immediate
direction of Frank Kennedy, a supervisor, or riding-officer,
belonging to the excise, who had of late become intimate at the
Place, and of whom we shall have more to say in the next chapter.
Mr. Bertram himself chose that day to make a visit to a friend at
some distance. But it so happened, notwithstanding his
precautions, that he could not avoid meeting his late tenants
during their retreat from his property.

It was in a hollow way, near the top of a steep ascent, upon the
verge of the Ellangowan estate, that Mr. Bertram met the gipsy
procession. Four or five men formed the advanced guard, wrapped in
long loose great-coats that hid their tall slender figures, as the
large slouched hats, drawn over their brows, concealed their wild
features, dark eyes, and swarthy faces. Two of them carried long
fowling-pieces, one wore a broadsword without a sheath, and all
had the Highland dirk, though they did not wear that weapon openly
or ostentatiously. Behind them followed the train of laden asses,
and small carts or TUMBLERS, as they were called in that country,
on which were laid the decrepit and the helpless, the aged and
infant part of the exiled community. The women in their red cloaks