From John O'Groats to Land's End Part 22

_Thursday, October 12th._

We were roused at six o'clock a.m. by the engine-driver, who had taken good care of us while we slept, and as we had had nothing to eat since our lunch at Hawick the day before, except the fruit purchased from the toll-keeper there, which we had consumed long before reaching Langholm, we were frightfully hungry. The engine-man told us there was a shop close by the colliery gate kept by a young man, where, if he happened to be in, we should be able to get some refreshments. He accompanied us to the place, and, after knocking loudly at the shop door, we were delighted to see the head of the shopkeeper appear through the window above. He was evidently well known to the engineer, who told him what we wanted, and he promised to "be down directly."

It seemed a long time to us before the shop door was opened, and every minute appeared more like five than one; but we were soon comfortably seated in the shop, in the midst of all sorts of good things fit to eat. We should have liked to begin to eat them immediately, but the fire had to be lit and the kettle boiled, so we a.s.sisted with these operations while the young man cut into a fresh loaf of bread, broke open a pot of plum jam, opened a tin of biscuits, and, with the addition of a large slice of cheese and four fresh eggs, we had a really good breakfast, which we thoroughly enjoyed. He said it was a wonder we found him there, for it was very seldom he slept at the shop. His mother lived at a farm about a mile and a half away, where he nearly always slept; that night, however, he had been sleeping with his dog, which was to run in a race that day, and he spent the night with it lest it should be tampered with. He called the dog downstairs, and, though we knew very little about dogs, we could see it was a very fine-looking animal. Our friend said he would not take 50 for it, a price we thought exorbitant for any dog. When we had finished our enormous breakfast, we a.s.sisted the shopkeeper to clear the table, and as it was now his turn, we helped him to get his own breakfast ready, waiting upon him as he had waited upon us, while we conversed chiefly about colliers and dogs and our approaching visit to Gretna Green, which, as neither of us was married, was naturally our next great object of interest.

[Ill.u.s.tration: PENTON BRIDGE, CANONBIE.]

After our long walk the previous day, with very little sleep at the end of it, and the heavy breakfast we had just eaten, we felt uncommonly lazy and disinclined to walk very far that day. So, after wishing our friend good luck at the races, we bade him good-bye, and idly retraced our steps along the colliery road until we reached the bridge where we had met the collier so early in the morning. We had now time to admire the scenery, and regretted having pa.s.sed through that beautiful part of the country during our weary tramp in the dark, and that we had missed so much of it, including the Border Towers on the River Esk.

Riddel Water, with its fine scenery, was on our left as we came from the colliery, where it formed the boundary between Scotland and England, emptying itself into the River Esk about two miles from Canonbie Bridge, which we now crossed, and soon arrived at the "Cross Keys Inn," of which we had heard but failed to reach the previous night. The landlord of the inn, who was standing at the door, was formerly the driver of the Royal Mail Stagecoach "Engineer" which ran daily between Hawick and Carlisle on the Edinburgh to London main road. A good-looking and healthy man of over fifty years of age, his real name was Elder, but he was popularly known as Mr. Sandy or Sandy Elder. The coach, the last stage-coach that ever ran on that road, was drawn in ordinary weather by three horses, which were changed every seven or eight miles, the "Cross Keys" at Canonbie being one of the stopping-places.

[Ill.u.s.tration: "CROSS KEYS INN."]

Mr. Elder had many tales to tell of stage-coach days; one adventure, however, seemed more prominent in his thoughts than the others. It happened many years ago, when on one cold day the pa.s.sengers had, with the solitary exception of one woman, who was sitting on the back seat of the coach, gone into the "Cross Keys Inn" for refreshments while the horses were being changed. The fresh set of horses had been put in, and the stablemen had gone to the hotel to say all was ready, when, without a minute's warning, the fresh horses started off at full gallop along the turnpike road towards Carlisle. Great was the consternation at the inn, and Sandy immediately saddled a horse and rode after them at full speed. Meantime the woman, who Mr. Sandy said must have been as brave a woman as ever lived, crawled over the luggage on the top of the coach and on to the footboard in front. Kneeling down while holding on with one hand, she stretched the other to the horses' backs and secured the reins, which had slipped down and were urging the horses forward. By this time the runaway horses had nearly covered the two miles between the inn and the tollgates, which were standing open, as the mail coach was expected, whose progress nothing must delay. Fortunately the keeper of the first gate was on the look-out, and he was horrified when he saw the horses coming at their usual great speed without Sandy the driver; he immediately closed the gate, and, with the aid of the brave woman, who had recovered the reins, the horses were brought to a dead stop at the gate, Mr. Sandy arriving a few minutes afterwards. The last run of this coach was in 1862, about nine years before our visit, and there was rather a pathetic scene on that occasion. We afterwards obtained from one of Mr. Elder's ten children a cutting from an old newspaper she had carefully preserved, a copy of which is as follows:

Mr. Elder, the Landlord of the "Cross Keys Hotel," was the last of the Border Royal Mail Coach Drivers and was familiarly known as "Sandy," and for ten years was known as the driver of the coach between Hawick and Carlisle. When the railway started and gave the death-blow to his calling, he left the seat of the stage coach, and invested his savings in the cosy hostelry of the road-side type immortalised by Scott in his "Young Lochinvar." He told of the time when he did duty on the stage coach for Dukes, Earls, and Lords, and aided run-a-way couples to reach the "blacksmith" at Gretna Green. He told of the days when he manipulated the ribbons from the box of the famous coach "Engineer" when he dashed along with foaming horses as if the fate of a nation depended upon his reaching his stage at a given time. He could remember Mosspaul Inn at the zenith of its fame under the reigning sovereign Mr. Gownlock--whose tact and management made his Hotel famous. He had frequently to carry large sums of money from the Border banks and although these were the days of footpads and highwaymen, and coaches were "held up" in other parts, Sandy's Coach was never molested, although he had been blocked with his four-in-hand in the snow. He gave a graphic description of the running of the last mail coach from Hawick to Merrie Carlisle in 1862. Willie Crozier the noted driver was mounted on the box, and the horses were all decked out for the occasion. Jemmie Ferguson the old strapper, whose occupation like that of Oth.e.l.lo's was all gone, saw it start with a heavy heart, and crowds turned out to bid it good-bye. When the valleys rang with the cheery notes of the well-blown horn, and the rumbling sound of the wheels and the clattering hoofs of the horses echoed along the way, rich and poor everywhere came to view the end of a system which had so long kept them in touch with civilisation. The "Engineer" guards and drivers with scarlet coats, white hats, and overflowing boots, and all the coaching paraphernalia so minutely described by d.i.c.kens, then pa.s.sed away, and the solitary remnant of these good old times was "Sandy"

Elder the old Landlord of the "Cross Keys" on Canonbie Lea.

Soon after leaving the "Cross Keys" we came to a wood where we saw a "Warning to Trespa.s.sers" headed "Dangerous," followed by the words "Beware of fox-traps and spears in these plantations." This, we supposed, was intended for the colliers, for in some districts they were noted as expert poachers. Soon afterwards we reached what was called the Scotch d.y.k.e, the name given to a mound of earth, or "d.y.k.e," as it was called locally, some four miles long and erected in the year 1552 between the rivers Esk and Sark to mark the boundary between England and Scotland. We expected to find a range of hills or some substantial monument or n.o.ble ruin to mark the boundary between the two countries, and were rather disappointed to find only an ordinary dry d.y.k.e and a plantation, while a solitary milestone informed us that it was eighty-one and a half miles to Edinburgh. We were now between the two tollbars, one in Scotland and the other in England, with a s.p.a.ce of only about fifty yards between them, and as we crossed the centre we gave three tremendous cheers which brought out the whole population of the two tollhouses to see what was the matter. We felt very silly, and wondered why we had done so, since we had spent five weeks in Scotland and had nothing but praise both for the inhabitants and the scenery. It was exactly 9.50 a.m. when we crossed the boundary, and my brother on reflection recovered his self-respect and said he was sure we could have got absolution from Sir Walter Scott for making all that noise, for had he not written:

Breathes there the man, with soul so dead, Who never to himself hath said, This is my own, my native land!

Whose heart hath ne'er within him burn'd, As home his footsteps he hath turn'd.

[Ill.u.s.tration: NETHERBY HALL.]

As the morning was beautifully fine, we soon forsook the highway and walked along the gra.s.sy banks of the Esk, a charming river whose waters appeared at this point as if they were running up hill. We were very idle, and stayed to wash our feet in its crystal waters, dressing them with common soap, which we had always found very beneficial as a salve.

We sauntered past Kirkandrew's Tower; across the river was the mansion of Netherby, the home of the Graham family, with its beautiful surroundings, immortalised by Sir Walter Scott in his "Young Lochinvar,"

who came out of the West, and--

One touch to her hand, and one word in her ear, When they reached the hall-door, and the charger stood near; So light to the croupe the fair lady he swung, So light to the saddle before her he spran!

"She is won! we are gone, over bank, bush, and scaur; They'll have fleet steeds that follow," quoth young Lochinvar.

There was mounting 'mong Graemes of the Netherby clan; Forsters, Fenwicks, and Musgraves, they rode and they ran: There was racing and chasing on Cann.o.bie Lee, But the lost bride of Netherby ne'er did they see.

So daring in love, and so dauntless in war, Have ye e'er heard of gallant like young Lochinvar?

We were far more inclined to think and talk than to walk, and as we sat on the peaceful banks of the river we thought what a blessing it was that those Border wars were banished for ever, for they appeared to have been practically continuous from the time of the Romans down to the end of the sixteenth century, when the two countries were united under one king, and we thought of that verse so often quoted:

The Nations in the present day Preserve the good old plan, That all shall take who have the power And all shall keep who can.

We were not far from the narrowest point of the kingdom from east to west, or from one sea to the other, where the Roman Emperor, Hadrian, built his boundary wall; but since that time, if we may credit the words of another poet who described the warriors and their origin, other nationalities have waged war on the Borders--

From the worst scoundrel race that ever lived A horrid crowd of rambling thieves and drones, Who ransacked Kingdoms and dispeopled towns, The Pict, the painted Briton, treacherous Scot By hunger, theft, and rapine, hither brought Norwegian Pirates--buccaneering Danes, Whose red-haired offspring everywhere remains; Who, joined with Norman French, compound the breed, From whence you time-born Bordermen proceed.

How long we should have loitered on the bank of the river if the pangs of hunger had not again made themselves felt we could not say, but we resolved at last to walk to Longtown for some refreshments, and arrived there by noon, determined to make amends for our shortcomings after lunch, for, incredible though it seemed, we had only walked six miles!

But we landed in a little cosy temperance house, one of those places where comfort prevailed to a much greater extent than in many more brilliant establishments. It was kept by one Forster, a gentleman of distinction, possessing a remarkable temperament and following numerous avocations. He informed us he was the parish clerk, and that the Lord Bishop was holding a Confirmation Service in the church at 3 p.m. We had intended only to stay for lunch and then resume our journey, but the mention of a much less important person than the Lord Bishop would have made us stay until tea-time, and travel on afterwards, so we decided to remain for the service. Punctually at three o'clock, escorted by the son of our landlord, we entered the Arthuret Church, the Parish Church of Longtown, about half a mile away from the town. It was built in 1609 and dedicated to St. Michael, but had recently been restored and a handsome stained-gla.s.s window placed at the east end in memory of the late Sir James Graham, whose burial-place we observed marked by a plain stone slab as we entered the churchyard. In consequence of a domestic bereavement the organist was absent, and as he had forgotten to leave the key the harmonium was useless. Our friend the parish clerk, however, was quite equal to the occasion, for as the Psalm commencing "All people that on earth do dwell" was given out, he stepped out into the aisle and led off with the good old tune the "Old Hundredth," so admirably adapted for congregational use, and afterwards followed with the hymn beginning "Before Jehovah's awful throne," completing the choral part of the service to the tune of "Duke Street"; we often wondered where that street was, and who the duke was that it was named after. Our admiration of the parish clerk increased when we found he could start the singing of Psalms and on the correct note in the presence of a Lord Bishop, and we contemplated what might have been the result had he started the singing in a higher or a lower key. We rejoiced that the responsibility rested upon him and not on ourselves.

The Candidates for Confirmation were now requested to stand while the remainder of the congregation remained seated. The Bishop, Dr. Goodwin, delivered a homely, solemn, and impressive address. His lordship did not take any text, but spoke extempore, and we were well pleased with his address, so appropriate was it to the occasion; the language was easy and suited to the capacities of those for whom the service was specially held. As sympathisers with the temperance movement we thoroughly coincided with the Bishop's observations when he affectionately warned his hearers against evil habits, amongst which he catalogued that of indulgence in intoxicating drinks, and warned the young men not to frequent public-houses, however much they might be ridiculed or thought mean for not doing so. The candidates came from three parishes, the girls dressed very plainly and as usual outnumbering the boys. The general congregation was numerically small, and we were surprised that there was no collection! Service over, we returned to our lodgings for tea, intending to resume our walk immediately afterwards. We were so comfortable, however, and the experiences of the previous day and night so fresh in our minds, and bodies, that we decided to rest our still weary limbs here for the night, even though we had that day only walked six miles, the shortest walk in all our journey.

[Ill.u.s.tration: KIRKANDREWS CHURCH.]

Our host, Mr. Forster, was moreover a very entertaining and remarkable man. He had been parish clerk for many years, a Freemason for upwards of thirty years, letter-carrier or postman for fourteen years, and recently he and his wife had joined the Good Templars! He had many interesting stories of the runaway marriages at Gretna Green, a piece of Borderland neither in Scotland nor England, and he claimed to have suggested the Act of Parliament brought in by Lord Brougham to abolish these so-called "Scotch" marriages by a clause which required twenty-one days' residence before the marriage could be solemnised, so that although the Act was called Lord Brougham's Act, he said it was really his. Its effects were clearly demonstrated in a letter he had written, which appeared in the Registrar-General's Report, of which he showed us a copy, stating that while in the year 1856, the year of the pa.s.sing of Lord Brougham's Act, there were 757 marriages celebrated in the district of Gretna Green, thirty-nine entered as taking place in one day, November 8th, in the following year there were only thirty and in the next forty-one, showing conclusively that the Act had been effectual. We could have listened longer to our host's stories, but we had to rise early next morning to make up for our loss of mileage, and retired early to make up for our loss of sleep on the previous night.

(_Distance walked six miles_.)

_Friday, October 13th._

We left Longtown at 7.30 a.m. by the long and wide thoroughfare which gives rise to its name, and followed the Carlisle road until we turned to the right for Gretna Green. Our road lay between Solway Moss and the River Esk, to both of which some historic events were attached. Solway Moss is about seven miles in circ.u.mference, and is covered with gra.s.s and rushes, but it shakes under the least pressure, and will swallow up nearly anything. In 1776, after heavy rains, it burst, and, as in Ireland, streams of black peaty mud began to creep over the plain and to overwhelm the houses. It was the scene of a battle fought on November 24th, 1542, when the English Army under Sir Thomas Wharton defeated a Scottish Army of 10,000 men, who were either killed, drowned, or taken prisoners. One of the unfortunates was unearthed in later times by peat-diggers, a man on his horse, who had sunk in the bog. The skeletons were well preserved, and the different parts of the armour easily recognisable. The disastrous result of this battle so affected James V, King of Scotland, that he is said to have died of a broken heart.

Personally, we thought he deserved a greater punishment for the murder of Johnnie Armstrong and his followers twelve years before this event, for Armstrong was just the man who could and would have protected the Borders.

The River Esk was a.s.sociated with Prince Charlie, who, with his soldiers, had to cross it when retreating before the army of the Duke of c.u.mberland. It was a difficult operation to carry out, as the usually shallow ford had been converted by the melting snow into a swift-flowing current four feet deep. The cavalry were drawn up in two lines across the stream, one to break the current and the other to prevent any of the foot-soldiers being washed away as they crossed the river between the two lines of cavalry. Lower down the river still were Prince Charlie and his officers, who were better mounted than the others. The foot-soldiers walked arm-in-arm, with their heads barely above the water, making the s.p.a.ce between the cavalry lines to look as if it were set with paving-stones. One poor soldier lost his hold on his comrade and was washed down the river, and would certainly have been drowned had not the Prince seized him by the hair, and, shouting in Gaelic for help, held on until both of them were rescued. After being hunted in the Highland glens for months with a ransom of 30,000 placed on his head--not a Celt betraying his whereabouts--by the help of Flora Macdonald Prince Charlie escaped to Brittany, and finally died at Rome in the arms of the Master of Nairn in 1788. In 1794 the Beds of Esk, a large sandbank where the tide meets the stream, presented an unusual spectacle, and a striking tribute to the dangerous character of the river especially when in flood. Collected together on the beach were a varied a.s.sortment of animals and human beings, consisting of no less than 9 black cattle, 3 horses, 1,040 sheep, 45 dogs, 180 hares, many smaller animals, and 3 human beings, all of whom had been cut off by the rapidly advancing tide.

Many other events have happened in this neighbourhood, one of the most sensational perhaps being the death of King Edward I, "The Hammer of the Scots," also nicknamed "Longshanks," from the length of his lower limbs, who died in 1307 on these marshes, requesting his effeminate son, the Prince of Wales, as he bade him farewell, not to bury his body until the Scots were utterly subdued, but this wish was prevented by the defeat at the Battle of Bannockburn.

We pa.s.sed by some large peat-fields, and, crossing the River Sark, were once more in Scotland, notwithstanding the fact that we had so recently given three cheers as we pa.s.sed out of it. We traversed the length of Springfield, a stone-built village of whitewashed, one-storied cottages, in which we could see handloom weavers at work, nearly fifty of them being employed in that industry. Formerly, we were told, the villagers carried on an illicit commerce in whisky and salt, on which there were heavy duties in England, but none on whisky in Scotland. The position here being so close to the borders, it was a very favourable one for smuggling both these articles into England, and we heard various exciting stories of the means they devised for eluding the vigilance of the excise officers. As we pa.s.sed through the neighbourhood at a quick rate, the villagers turned out to have a look at us, evidently thinking something important was going on.

We saw many workers in the fields, who called out to us hinting about the nature of our journey, as we travelled towards Gretna Green. Some of the women went so far as to ask us if we wanted any company. The most conspicuous objects in the village were the church and the remarkably high gravestones standing like sentinels in the churchyard. Bonnie Prince Charlie arrived here on the afternoon of his birthday in 1745, stabling his horse in the church, while the vicar fled from what he described in the church book as "the Rebels." A small cottage--said to be the oldest in Gretna--is shown in which Prince Charlie slept. The village green appeared to us as if it had been fenced in and made into a garden, and a lady pointed out an ancient-looking building, which she said was the hall where the original "Blacksmith" who married the runaway couples resided, but which was now occupied by a gentleman from Edinburgh. She explained the ceremony as being a very simple one, and performed expeditiously: often in the road, almost in sight of the pursuers of the runaway pair. All sorts and conditions of men and women were united there, some of them from far-off lands, black people amongst the rest, and she added with a sigh, "There's been many an unhappy job here," which we quite believed. There were other people beside the gentleman at the hall who made great profit by marrying people, both at Springfield and Gretna, and a list of operators, dated from the year 1720, included a soldier, shoemaker, weaver, poacher, innkeeper, toll-keeper, fisherman, pedlar, and other tradesmen. But the only blacksmith who acted in that capacity was a man named Joe Paisley, who died in 1811 aged seventy-nine years. His motto was, "Strike while the iron's hot," and he boasted that he could weld the parties together as firmly as he could one piece of iron to another.

[Ill.u.s.tration: JOSEPH PAISLEY, The Celebrated Gretna-Green Parson Dec'd January 9, 1811, aged 79. The first great "priest" of Gretna Green.]

Joe was a man of prodigious strength; he could bend a strong iron poker over his arm, and had frequently straightened an ordinary horse-shoe in its cold state with his hands. He could also squeeze the blood from the finger ends of any one who incurred his anger. He was an habitual drunkard, his greatest boast being that he had once been "teetotal" for a whole forenoon. When he died he was an overgrown ma.s.s of superfluous fat, weighing at least twenty-five stone. He was said to have earned quite a thousand pounds per year by his encroachments into the province of the cleric, and when on his deathbed he heard three carriages arrive, he consented to marry the three wealthy couples they contained, and found himself two or three hundred pounds richer than before. He also boasted that the marriage business had been in his family for quite one hundred years, and that his uncle, the old soldier Gordon, used to marry couples in the full uniform of his regiment, the British Grenadiers. He gave a form of certificate that the persons had declared themselves to be single, that they were married by the form of the Kirk of Scotland, and agreeably to that of the Church of England.

[Ill.u.s.tration: GRETNA GREEN.]

One of the most celebrated elopements to Gretna was that of the Earl of Westmorland and Miss Child, the daughter of the great London banker. The earl had asked for the hand of Sarah, and had been refused, the banker remarking, "Your blood is good enough, but my money is better," so the two young people made it up to elope and get married at Gretna Green.

The earl made arrangements beforehand at the different stages where they had to change horses, but the banker, finding that his daughter had gone, pursued them in hot haste. All went well with the runaway couple until they arrived at Shap, in Westmorland, where they became aware they were being pursued. Here the earl hired all the available horses, so as to delay the irate banker's progress. The banker's "money was good,"

however, and the runaways were overtaken between Penrith and Carlisle.

Hero the earl's "blood was good," for, taking deliberate aim at the little star of white on the forehead of the banker's leading horse, he fired successfully, and so delayed the pursuit that the fugitives arrived at Gretna first; and when the bride's father drove up, purple with rage and almost choking from sheer exasperation, he found them safely locked in what was called the bridal chamber! The affair created a great sensation in London, where the parties were well known, heavy bets being made as to which party would win the race. At the close of the market it stood at two to one on the earl and the girl.

In those days "postboys" were employed to drive the runaways from the hotels at Carlisle to Gretna, one of the most noted of whom was Jock Ainslie, on the staff of the "Bush Inn" at Carlisle. On one occasion he was commissioned to drive a runaway couple, who had just arrived by the coach from London, to Gretna, but when they got as far as Longtown they insisted they were tired and must stay for dinner before going forward, so they sent Jock back. He returned to Carlisle rather reluctantly, advising the runaways to lose no time. But when he got back to the "Bush Inn" he saw the mother of the lady whom he had left at Longtown drive up to the hotel door accompanied by a Bow Street officer. While they were changing horses, Jock went to the stable, saddled a horse, rode off to Longtown, and told his patrons what he had seen. They immediately hurried into a chaise, but had not gone far before they heard the carriage wheels of their pursuers. Jock Ainslie was quite equal to the occasion, and drove the chaise behind a thick bush, whence the pair had the satisfaction of seeing "Mamma" hurry past at full speed in pursuit.

While she was continuing her search on the Annan Road, Jock quietly drove into Springfield and had his patrons "hitched up" without further delay, and doubtless was well rewarded for his services.

[Ill.u.s.tration: WILLIE LANG The last of the "Lang" line of priests.]

It seemed a strange thing that Lord Brougham, who brought in the famous Act, should himself have taken advantage of a "Scotch" marriage, and that two other Lord Chancellors, both celebrated men, should have acted in the same manner; Lord Eldon, the originator of the proverb--

New brooms sweep clean,

was married at Gretna, and Lord Erskine at Springfield. Marriage in this part of Scotland had not the same religious significance as elsewhere, being looked upon as more in the nature of a civil contract than a religious ceremony. The form of marriage was almost entirely a secular matter, and if a man and woman made a declaration before two witnesses that they were single persons and had resided twenty-one days in Scotland, they were considered as being man and wife. At the point where the Black Esk and White Esk Rivers join, a remarkable custom called "Handfasting" prevailed hundreds of years ago. Here, at a place known as Handfasting Hough, young men and women a.s.sembled in great numbers and made matrimonial engagements by joining hands. The marriage was only binding for one year, but if both parties were then satisfied, the "handfasting" was continued for life. King Robert II of Scotland, it was said, was one of those who was "hand-fasted" there.

[Ill.u.s.tration: (Facsimile of Lord Erskine's signature.)]

[Ill.u.s.tration: SPRINGFIELD TOLL.]

We now left Gretna, still single, for Carlisle, nine and a half miles away, the distance to Glasgow in the opposite direction being eighty-five miles. We recrossed the River Sark, the boundary here between Scotland and England, the famous tollbar through which eloping couples had to hurry before they could reach Gretna Green. In those days gangs of men were ever on the watch to levy blackmail both on the pursued and their pursuers, and the heaviest purse generally won when the race was a close one. We saw a new hotel on the English side of the river which had been built by a Mr. Murray specially for the accommodation of the runaways while the "Blacksmith" was sent for to join them together on the other side of the boundary, but it had only just been finished when Lord Brougham's Act rendered it practically useless, and made it a bad speculation for Mr. Murray. Pa.s.sing through the tollgate we overtook a man with half a dozen fine greyhounds, in which, after our conversation with the owner of the racing dog at Canonbie Collieries, we had become quite interested; and we listened to his description of each as if we were the most ardent dog-fanciers on the road. One of the dogs had taken a first prize at Lytham and another a second at Stranraer. We pa.s.sed through a country where there were immense beds of peat, hurrying through Todhilis without even calling at the "Highland Laddie" or the "Jovial Butcher" at Kingstown, and we crossed the River Eden as we entered the Border city of Carlisle, sometimes called "Merrie Carlisle," or, as the Romans had it, Lugovalum.

An elderly gentleman whom we overtook, and of whom we inquired concerning the objects of interest to be seen, appeared to take more interest in business matters than in those of an antiquarian nature, for he told us that "Carr's Biscuit Manufactory" with its machinery was a far finer sight than either the cathedral or the castle. Perhaps he was right, but our thoughts were more in the direction of bygone ages, with the exception of the letters that were waiting for us at the post office, and for which we did not forget to call. Merrie Carlisle, we were informed, was the chief residence of King Arthur, whose supposed ghostly abode and that of his famous knights, or one of them, we had pa.s.sed earlier in the week. We were now told that near Penrith, a town to the south of Carlisle, there was still to be seen a large circle surrounded by a mound of earth called "Arthur's Round Table," and that in the churchyard were the giants' graves.