as possible, and hurried on after him.  As we did not overtake him, we stood still and listened attentively, though fruitlessly, for not a footstep could we hear.  We then accelerated our pace to what was known as the “Irishman’s Trig”—­a peculiar step, quicker than a walk, but slower than a run—­and after going some distance we stopped again to listen; but the only sound we could hear was the barking of a solitary dog a long distance away.  This was very provoking, as we wanted to get some information about our road, which, besides being rough, was both hilly and very lonely, and more in the nature of a track than a road.  Where the man could have disappeared to was a mystery on a road apparently without any offshoots, so we concluded he must have thought we contemplated doing him some bodily harm, and had either “bolted” or “clapp’d,” as my brother described it, behind some rock or bush, in which case he must have felt relieved and perhaps amused when he heard us “trigging” past him on the road.

[Illustration:  LILLIESLEAF AND THE EILDON HILLS.]

We continued along the lonely road without his company, with the ghostly Eildon Hills on one side and the moors on the other, until after walking steadily onwards for a few miles, we heard the roar of a mountain stream in the distance.  When we reached it we were horrified to find it running right across our road.  It looked awful in the dark, as it was quite deep, and although we could just see where our road emerged from the stream on the other side, it was quite impossible for us to cross in the dark.  We could see a few lights some distance beyond the stream, but it was useless to attempt to call for help, since our voices could not be heard above the noise of the torrent.  Our position seemed almost hopeless, until my brother said he thought he had seen a shed or a small house behind a gate some distance before coming to the stream.  We resolved to turn back, and luckily we discovered it to be a small lodge guarding the entrance to a private road.  We knocked at the door of the house, which was in darkness, the people having evidently gone to bed.  Presently a woman asked what was wanted, and when we told her we could not get across the stream, she said there was a footbridge near by, which we had not seen in the dark, and told us how to find it a little higher up the stream.  Needless to relate, we were very pleased when we got across the bridge, and we measured the distance across that turbulent stream in fifteen long strides.

We soon reached the lights we had seen, and found a small village, where at the inn we got some strange lodgings, and slept that night in a bed of a most curious construction, as it was in a dark place under the stairs, entered by a door from the parlour.  But it was clean and comfortable, and we were delighted to make use of it after our long walk.

(Distance walked thirty miles.)

Wednesday, October 11th.