I was somewhat amused with seeing a splendid carriage with footmen and outriders, crossing the mountain, the glorious landscape full in view, containing a richly dressed lady, fast asleep! It is no uncommon thing to meet carriages in the Highlands, in which the occupants are comfortably reading, while being whirled through the finest scenery.  And apropos of this subject, my German friend related to me an incident.  His brother was travelling on the Rhine, and when in the midst of the grandest scenes, met a carriage containing an English gentleman and lady, both asleep, while on the seat behind was stationed an artist, sketching away with all his might.  He asked the latter the reason of his industry, when he answered, “Oh! my lord wishes to see every night what he has passed during the day, and so I sketch as we go along!”

The hills, particularly on the English side, are covered with flocks of sheep, and lazy shepherds lay basking in the sun, among the purple heather, with their shaggy black dogs beside them.  On many of the hills are landmarks, by which, when the snow has covered all the trucks, they can direct their way.  After walking many miles through green valleys, down which flowed the Red Water, its very name telling of the conflicts which had crimsoned its tide, we came to the moors, and ten miles of blacker, drearier waste I never saw.  Before entering them we passed the pretty little village of Otterburn, near the scene of the battle.  I brought away a wild flower that grew on soil enriched by the blood of the Percys.  On the village inn, is their ancient coat of arms, a lion rampant, on a field of gold, with the motto, “Esperance en Dieu.”  Scarcely a house or a tree enlivened the black waste, and even the road was marked on each side by high poles, to direct the traveller in winter.  We were glad when at length the green fields came again in sight, and the little village of Whelpington Knowes, with its old ivy-grown church tower, welcomed us after the lonely walk.

As one specimen of the intelligence of this part of England, we saw a board conspicuously posted at the commencement of a private road, declaring that “all persons travelling this way will be persecuted.”  As it led to a church, however, there may have been a design in the expression.

On the fifth day after leaving Edinburgh, we reached a hill, overlooking the valley of the Tyne and the German Ocean, as sunset was reddening in the west.  A cloud of coal-smoke made us aware of the vicinity of Newcastle.  On the summit of the hill a large cattle fair was being held, and crowds of people were gathered in and around a camp of gaudily decorated tents.  Fires were kindled here and there, and drinking, carousing and horse-racing were flourishing in full vigor.