This led to Glass’s conviction, and he was sentenced to seven years’ transportation. He had certainly had a wonderful career. He did not confine his attention to sheep, but was quite as notorious for stealing colts. Not being able to keep her from her foal, he had been known to kill the mare and throw the carcass into the pond. His thefts of sheep from “Squire” Knight alone used to average fifty or sixty a year. He would gallop into a flock, pick up one of the sheep, as a hawk or a raven would pick up a small bird, and carry it home on the top of his saddle. It may seem strange that he was permitted to indulge in these malpractices so long, but he lived in a very out-of-the-way place. There were no police in those days, sheep were gathered only once or twice in the year, and the animal he appropriated might possibly be crippled or diseased. Anyhow, until Farmer Brewer interfered, nobody took any notice.
Glass lived to return after being transported, and eventually found himself on a bed of sickness, when he was visited by an old farmer, James Moore.
“Jan,” said he, “I yur thee art very bad, and thee hasn’t got nort to eat. I’ve killed a sheep and brought thee a piece of mutton.”
“Aw, maister,” answered the poor man, “I thort thee’d a bin the last man to come to zee me.”
“What vur, Jan?”
“Well, I don’t know, maister, how I can taste the mutton, for I’ve stole scores o’ sheep from thee at the time you lived to Thurn and the time you lived to Ashit.”
“Never mind, Jan, I freely forgive thee, and I aup that God’ll do the same.”
Glass never got over the illness, but soon after this touching interview gave up the ghost, and was buried in Exford churchyard.
Betty Glass was just as resolute a thief as old Jan, and, whilst at Larcombe, was very intimate with Sally Bristowe (or “Bursta,” as the name was pronounced), at Rocks, an adjoining farm. On one occasion, Betty paid a visit to Sally at harvest time, when young turkeys were about, and after she had been hospitably entertained, eating what she liked and drinking what she liked, she had the good taste to go out and steal a score of the aforesaid small turkeys. Shortly afterwards, Sally happened to open the door and found the heads of some of the birds lying in the yard, whereupon she set out in pursuit of old Betty, overtook her, and discovered the bodies of the turkeys in the old woman’s apron, blood still flowing from them.
“Now, Betty,” quoth the indignant woman, “however could’st thee steal my turkeys after I’d gi’d thee plenty to eat and drink.”