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A few years ago, when resurrectionistst hroughoutresurrectionists throughout [sic] the country were become very common, a person of respectability was interred in the High Church burying ground of Glasgow. The relatives who were persons of property, hired a few hungry weavers, who generally at that time were atomies ready made,—to watch the grave of their deceased relative; these, as they were one night on duty, perceived some persons enter the church yard, they kept snug till such time as they could learn the object of their visit. It was not long before the intruders opened a grave, took out the corpse, put it into a saeksack [sic], and left it at the grave, and went in search of something else. One of the weavers, a droll fellow, said to his comrades, "Take out the corpse, and I'll go into the sack, but do you observe the proceedings.” In a little time the resurreetionresurrection [sic] men returned, and one of them getting the sack upon his back marched off; when they got to the street, the one says to the other, "Which way will we take?" When the weaver putting out his hand and gripping the fellow who was carrying him, by the hair, bawled out, "Down the Rotten Raw, ye b-g-r." He was soon set down, and the man who carried him, went mad of the fright.

Some years ago, a poor boy, whose mother was buried in the church-yard of Falkirk, used frequently to sit on her grave, and when destitute of other aecommodationaccommodation [sic], would crawl in below one of the grave stones, and sleep there for the night. On one of these occasions, the boy was roused from his sleep by the noise of some voices in the church-