Well, would you believe it?  Giles and his boys marked both onions and apples for their own.  Indeed, a man who stole so many rabbits from the warren, was likely enough to steal onions for sauce.  One day when the widow was abroad on a little business, Giles and his boys made a clear riddance of the onion-bed; and when they had pulled up every single onion, they then turned a couple of pigs into the garden, who, allured by the smell, tore up the bed in such a manner, that the widow, when she came home, had not the least doubt but the pigs had been the thieves.  To confirm this opinion, they took care to leave the little hatch half open at one end of the garden, and to break down a bit of a fence at the other end.

I wonder how any body can find in his heart not to pity and respect poor old widows.  There is something so forlorn and helpless in their condition, that methinks it is a call on every body, men, women, and children, to do them all the kind services that fall in their way.  Surely, their having no one to take their part, is an additional reason for kind-hearted people not to hurt and oppress them.  But it was this very reason which led Giles to do this woman an injury.  With what a touching simplicity it is recorded in Scripture, of the youth whom our blessed Saviour raised from the dead, that he was the only son of his mother, and she was a widow.

It happened, unluckily for poor widow Brown, that her cottage stood quite alone.  On several mornings together—­for roguery gets up much earlier than industry—­Giles and his boys stole regularly into her orchard, followed by their jackasses.  She was so deaf that she could not hear the asses, if they had brayed ever so loud, and to this Giles trusted; for he was very cautious in his rogueries, since he could not otherwise have contrived so long to keep out of prison; for though he was almost always suspected, he had seldom been taken up, and never convicted.  The boys used to fill their bags, load their asses, and then march off; and if, in their way to the town where the apples were to be sold, they chanced to pass by one of their neighbors who might be likely to suspect them, they then all at once began to scream out, “Buy my coal? buy my sand?”

Besides the trees in her orchard, poor widow Brown had in her small garden one apple-tree particularly fine; it was a redstreak, so tempting and so lovely that Giles’ family had watched it with longing eyes, till at last they resolved on a plan for carrying off all this fine fruit in their bags.  But it was a nice point to manage.  The tree stood directly under her chamber window, so that there was some danger that she might spy them at the work.  They therefore determined to wait till the next Sunday morning, when they knew she would not fail to be at church.  Sunday came; it was a lone house, as I said before, and most of the parish were safe at church.  In a trice the tree was cleared, the bags were filled, the asses were whipped, the thieves were off, the coast was clear, and all was safe and quiet by the time the sermon was over.