actually treading it along this faintly-traced path advances the object of our present narrative. His firm step, his erect and free carriage, have a military air, which corresponds well with his well-proportioned limbs, and stature of six feet high. His dress is so plain and simple that it indicates nothing as to rank—it may be that of a gentleman who travels in this manner for his pleasure, or of an inferior person of whom it is the proper and usual garb. Nothing can be on a more reduced scale than his travelling equipment. A volume of Shakespeare in each pocket, a small bundle with a change of linen slung across his shoulders, an oaken cudgel in his hand, complete our pedestrian's accommodations, and in this equipage we present him to our readers.

Brown had parted that morning from his friend Dudley, and began his solitary walk towards Scotland.

The first two or three miles were rather melancholy, from want of the society to which he had of late been accustomed. But this unusual mood of mind soon gave way to the influence of his natural good spirits, excited by the exercise and the bracing effects of the frosty air. He whistled as he went along, not "from want of thought," but to give vent to those buoyant feelings which he had no other mode of expressing. For each peasant whom he chanced to meet, he had a kind greeting or a good-humoured jest; the hardy Cumbrians grinned as they passed, and said, "that's a kind heart, God bless un!" and the market-girl looked more than once over her shoulder at the athletic form, which corresponded so well with the frank and blithe address of the stranger. A rough terrier dog, his constant companion, who rivalled his master in glee, scampered at large in a thousand wheels round the heath, and came back to jump up on him, and assured him that he participated in the pleasure of the journey. Dr. Johnson thought life had few things better than the excitation produced by being whirled rapidly along in a post-chaise; but he who has in youth experienced the confident and independent feeling of a stout pedestrian in an interesting country, and during fine weather, will hold the taste of the great moralist cheap in comparison.

Part of Brown's view in choosing that unusual tract which leads through the eastern wilds of Cumberland into Scotland, had

been a desire to view the remains of the celebrated Roman Wall, which are more visible in that direction than in any other part of its extent. His education had been imperfect and desultory; but neither the busy scenes in which he had been engaged, nor the pleasures of youth, nor the precarious state of his own circumstances, had diverted him from the task of mental improvement. "And this then is the Roman Wall," he said, scrambling up to a height which commanded the course of that celebrated work of antiquity; "What a people! whose labours, even at this extremity of their empire, comprehended such space, and were executed upon a scale of such grandeur! In future ages, when the science of war shall have changed, how few traces will exist of the labours of Vauban and Coehorn, while this wonderful people's remains will even then continue to interest and astonish posterity! Their fortifications, their aqueducts, their theatres, their fountains, all their public works, bear the grave, solid, and majestic character of their language; while our modern labours, like our modern tongues, seem but constructed out of their fragments." Having thus moralized, he remembered that he was hungry, and pursued his walk to a small public-house at which he proposed to get some refreshment.

The alehouse, for it was no better, was situated in the bottom of a little dell, through which trilled a small rivulet. It was shaded by a large ash tree, against which the clay-built shed, that served the purpose of a stable, was erected, and upon which it seemed partly to recline. In this shed stood a saddled horse, employed in eating his corn. The cottages in this part of Cumberland partake of the rudeness which characterizes those of Scotland. The outside of the house promised little for the interior, notwithstanding the vaunt of a sign, where a tankard of ale voluntarily decanted itself into a tumbler, and a hieroglyphical scrawl below attempted to express a promise of “good entertainment for man and horse." Brown was no fastidious travellerhe stooped and entered the cabaret.*

The first object which caught his eye in the kitchen, was a tall, stout, country-looking man, in a large jockey great-coat, the See Note B. Mumps's Ha'.

owner of the horse which stood in the shed, who was busy discussing huge slices of cold boiled beef, and casting from time to time an eye through the window, to see how his steed sped with his provender. A large tankard of ale flanked his plate of victuals, to which he applied himself by intervals. The good woman of the house was employed in baking. The fire, as is usual in that country, was on a stone hearth, in the midst of an immensely large chimney, which had two seats extended beneath the vent. On one of these sat a remarkably tall woman, in a red cloak and slouched bonnet, having the appearance of a tinker or beggar. She was busily engaged with a short black tobacco-pipe.

At the request of Brown for some food, the landlady wiped with her mealy apron one corner of the deal table, placed a wooden trencher and knife and fork before the traveller, pointed to the round of beef, recommended Mr. Dinmont's good example, and, finally, filled a brown pitcher with her home-brewed. Brown lost no time in doing ample credit to both. For a while, his opposite neighbour and he were too busy to take much notice of each other, except by a good-humoured nod as each in turn raised the tankard to his head. At length, when our pedestrian began to supply the wants of little Wasp, the Scottish store-farmer, for such was Mr. Dinmont, found himself at leisure to enter into conversation.

"A bonny terrier that, Sir- and a fell chield at the vermin, I warrant him that is, if he's been weel entered, for it a' lies in that.'

---

"Really, Sir," said Brown, "his education has been somewhat neglected, and his chief property is being a pleasant companion." "Ay, Sir? that's a pity, begging your pardon — it's a great pity that - beast or body, education should aye be minded; I have six terriers at hame, forbye twa couple of slow-hounds, five grews, and a wheen other dogs. There's auld Pepper and auld Mustard, and young Pepper and young Mustard, and little Pepper and little Mustard — I had them a' regularly entered, first wi' rottens-then wi' stots or weasels-and then wi' the tods and brocks and now they fear naething that ever cam wi' a hairy skin on 't."

"I have no doubt, Sir, they are thorough-bred - but, to have so many dogs, you seem to have a very limited variety of names for them?"

"O, that's a fancy of my ain to mark the breed, Sir. The Deuke himsell has sent as far as Charlies-hope to get ane o' Dandy Dinmont's Pepper and Mustard terriers Lord, man, he sent Tam Hudson* the keeper, and sicken a day as we had wi' the foumarts and the tods, and sicken a blythe gae-down as we had again e'en! Faith, that was a night!"

"I suppose game is very plenty with you?”

"Plenty, man!

I believe there 's mair hares than sheep on my farm; and for the moor-fowl, or the grey-fowl, they lie as thick as doos in a dooket. Did you ever shoot a black-cock, man?” "Really I had never even the pleasure to see one, except in the museum at Keswick."

"There now I could guess that by your Southland tongue. It's very odd of these English folk that come here, how few of them has seen a black-cock!

I'll tell you what ye seem to on Dandy Dinmont, ye shall see a black-cock, and shoot a black-cock, and eat a black-cock too, man."

be an honest lad, and if you 'll call on me

at Charlies-hope

"Why, the proof of the matter is the eating, to be sure, Sir; and I shall be happy if I can find time to accept your invitation."

"Time, man? what ails ye to gae hame wi' me the now? How d'ye travel?"

"On foot, Sir; and if that handsome pony be yours, I should find it impossible to keep up with you."

"No unless ye can walk up to fourteen mile an hour. But ye can come ower the night as far as Riccarton, where there is a public or if you like to stop at Jockey Grieve's at the Heuch, they would be blythe to see ye, and I am just gaun to stop and drink a dram at the door wi' him, and I would tell him you 're coming up or stay-gudewife, could you lend this gentleman the gudeman's galloway, and I'll send it ower the Waste in the morning wi' the callant?"

--

The real name of this veteran sportsman is now restored.

The galloway was turned out upon the fell, and was swear to catch. "Aweel, aweel, there 's nae help for 't, but come up the morn at ony rate. And now, gudewife, I maun ride, to get to the Liddel or it be dark, for your Waste has but a kittle character, ye ken yoursell."

"Hout fie, Mr. Dinmont, that's no like you, to gie the country an ill name I wot, there has been nane stirred in the Waste since Sawney Culloch, the travelling merchant, that Rowley Overdees and Jock Penny suffered for at Carlisle twa years since. There's no ane in Bewcastle would do the like o' that now be a' true folk now."

we

"Ay, Tib, that will be when the deil's blind, and his een's no sair yet. But hear ye, gudewife, I have been through maist feck o' Galloway and Dumfries-shire, and I have been round by Carlisle, and I was at the Staneshiebank fair the day, and I would like ill to be rubbit sae near hame, so I'll tak the gate." "Hae ye been in Dumfries and Galloway?” said the old dame, who sate smoking by the fire-side, and who had not yet spoken a word.

"Troth have I, gudewife, and a weary round I've had o 't.” "Then ye 'll maybe ken a place they ca' Ellangowan?" "Ellangowan, that was Mr. Bertram's Iken the place weel eneugh. The Laird died about a fortnight since, as I heard." "Died!" said the old woman, dropping her pipe, and rising and coming forward upon the floor "died? are you sure of

that?"

"Troth am I," said Dinmont, "for it made nae sma' noise in the country-side. He died just at the roup of the stocking and furniture; it stoppit the roup, and mony folk were disappointed. They said he was the last of an auld family too, and mony were sorry for gude blude 's scarcer in Scotland than it has been." "Dead!" replied the old woman, whom our readers have already recognized as their acquaintance Meg Merrilies-"dead! that quits a' scores. And did ye say he died without an heir?” "Ay did he, gudewife, and the estate's sell'd by the same token; for they said, they couldna have sell'd it, if there had been an heir-male."

Guy Mannering.

11