Hadrian's Wall

CHAPTER XIII

PEEL CRAG TO WALLTOWN

On Peel Crag I was quite delighted with the Wall. It stretches for a long distance, eight or nine courses high and 6 feet wide, running along the more or less level summit of the Crag. I learned afterwards that the upper facing-stones on the southern side had been restored in 1909, as nearly as possible in the Roman manner, but that on the northern face they were untouched. One of the men who had helped in this restoration told me he had spent all the winter on Peel Crag, and "cawld wawk it was, with the stones." The south foundation of the Wall in this stretch stands on a higher level than the north.

If the Wall here had not been carefully restored it would have to have been replaced by an ordinary "dry dyke" to keep the sheep from falling down the Crag, which descends steeply to the north.

THE WALL ON PEEL CRAG

Investigations on Peel Crag and Winshields have gone to show that, in Severus's reconstruction of the Wall, most of the turrets in this neighbourhood were not restored, but, on the contrary, the insets where they had been recessed into the Wall have been filled up level with the face.

Ten years ago the positions of only five or six turrets were known along the Wall. Since then, over thirty have been found and six excavated. This leaves many which are still awaiting their turn to be opened.

Peel Crag ends abruptly, and the Wall, after bending southward, as usual at every gap, strikes steeply down into the gap, as is shown very clearly in the picture facing page 142. The advancing enemy would be subject to a flank attack from the Roman defenders hidden in the safe shelter of the Wall.

The Wall then turns slightly northward, in order to gain the top of Winshields. It is in excellent condition on the low ground to the north of this gap, about 6 feet wide and nine courses high, and makes a good "road" to walk upon. The Wallditch recurs here, as always, whenever the Wall leaves the heights, if only for a few yards.

The road which runs north and south through the gap will take us down to "Twice Brewed," the Inn on Wade's Road, if we are wanting tea. I never found "Twice Brewed" very anxious to give me tea; I fancy they thought it a lot of trouble for one. There is "only one pair of hands to do everything," so they said. I asked if I could stay there for a week while I was painting, but there were many good reasons why I could not. First, it was the food; so difficult to get. I said I could live on bread and butter and eggs—"and bacon," I added, looking at the "backs" and the "streaky" hanging from the ceiling behind her.

"But we want all that for oorselves."

"Well, bread and butter and eggs will do."

"I must ask 'him,'" said she.

And when she did ask "him," he said it would interfere with his regular customers! So that settled it; and I found somewhere in the neighbourhood that suited me better, and everybody was satisfied.

I stayed at a little farm where the husband worked "in the pits," and helped his wife with the farm in his spare time. The wife was such a neat, bright, pretty young thing. The husband was on night-shifts, and came home for his supper (or was it breakfast?) at five o'clock in the morning, so I used to have my breakfast at the same hour, and get off early. I think my record-day on the Wall started at 5.30 a.m. and ended at 10 p.m.—a long June day.

I used to bicycle along Wade's Road, leave my bicycle at the farm nearest to where I wanted to paint, and then walk from point to point along the Wall, with perhaps four different sketches going on, at the different periods of the day. Having started off one morning at 6 a.m., I wanted somewhere to leave my bicycle. A little house with an enclosed garden looked suitable, so I jumped off, and then saw to my amusement that a horse was standing looking in at the little bedroom window under the eaves, from which a hurried voice was calling to him: "I'm a-coming; I'm a-coming." Presently an old lady appeared, and I asked permission to leave my bicycle, saying I should be gone all day. She answered: "What odds? A'll be here." She then introduced the horse. "He always looks for his corn at half-past six sharp." And I often saw him after that, at the window. When I returned in the evening, rather late, the old lady said: "I was feart ye was fallen into t' Lough;" and then she produced my bicycle from a shed: "I thocht ye didna want yer tyres brusten wi' the sun."

But I have wandered a long way from Peel Crag. I did not need to go to "Twice Brewed" for tea; I was fortunate in having a friend near by who had often made tea for me when I was painting on the Wall. And to her I went now. I found she had visitors. A great event had taken place in the neighbourhood the night before; there had been a local subscription dance in the barn of Twice Brewed Farm (or East Twice Brewed, as it is sometimes called. It was the Inn in Hutton's time). The people "out-by" had never had such an opportunity before, though "in-by," at Haltwhistle, there were dances in plenty. Three of the dancers were calling—bonny young girls whose first dance it had been, and they were full of it. "It was champion!"—or "It was terrible nice!" (their highest terms of praise). They had breakfasted at five o'clock in the morning before going to bed. One of them had done her hair up for the first time in honour of the occasion. "There was a pocket of hairpins in it, more hairpins than hair, and yet it wouldn't keep up!" And so they ran on, while I enjoyed the "berry-cake" and gingerbread for which my hostess was famous. She was busy making one of the wadded quilts which one sees so often along the line of the Wall. And their rag-carpets, or "stubbed mats," as they call them, are sometimes like bits of stained glass! They frequently dye the cloth themselves, the exact colour they want, and make very elaborate and rich designs.

And now we come to Winshields, the highest point to which the Wall rises, 1230 feet above the sea. Below, on the left, is a farm-house known as "The Bog," and south of that, very near to Wade's Road, runs the Vallum.

It is impossible to miss the line of the Wall in the high regions, for it is always on the ridge. I cycled out one day through Caw Gap to the hamlet of Edges Green, along one of the little-used roads that run north into the lonely wastes, in order to make a sketch of Winshields from "out-by," that is to say, from the country to the north of the Wall. I had barely finished this sketch when a brilliant flash of lightning warned me to move, and it was soon followed by thunder and heavy rain. I found shelter, and a kind welcome (which included tea, as usual!) in the nearest house. My good hostess apologized for having "nothing" to give me for tea, because she lived so far "out-by," but I found an abundant spread—cheese, jam, scones, two kinds of cake, and white and brown bread. I wondered what "something" would have been! When it came to paying, she said: "Oh, it's nothin'; it's just a drink o' tea."

She had lived there twenty-one years, and told me they were often snowed up in winter and had to dig themselves out. "But we're nothin' to some folks," she added; "we're 'out-by' to Hautwissel, but we're 'in-by' to Hope-Alone!" She was referring to a lonely farm 2 miles farther north, standing at a height of 900 feet.

The works of the Vallum are splendid, as seen from the top of Winshields; the eye can follow them for a great distance. The best developed section is at Cawfields.

And the view is wide and beautiful, especially on such a changeable day as this, with all round a tumble of brilliant white clouds on a blue sky, but with heavy masses of black appearing in the east, and gradually blotting out the hills. Presently there is a change; the clouds break, and patches of sunlight begin to dance on the hills, which but a moment before were obscured. The rays of the sun are like a moving finger, tracing out the form of distant farm, and tree, and wall, on the hillside, and then passing on.

Then another change: heavy clouds appear to the north-west, and the rain comes down and blots out the Solway; which yet again gleams out in a long line of silver light before another half-hour has passed.

From the top of Winshields at midday I have more than once seen a huge red flare, like an evening sun, spring up and disappear again almost immediately. I am told this has been the destruction of ammunition dumps near Gretna Green. It must be a fearsome sight (and sound) at close quarters.

The Wall varies very much on Winshields; sometimes in tolerably good condition; sometimes a mere ruin.

The gaps here are called "slacks," a curious word, which I heard the people use for any depression or shallow dell.

Green Slack is a depression in the hill where there are traces of British dwellings; and then there is Lodham Slack, a deep heathery valley, where for some distance the Wall-ditch again becomes necessary, and runs, filled with rushes, on our right. There is very little heather along the line of the Wall.

Next comes Shield on the Wall, where there was a mile-castle, and where patches of rhubarb still mark the garden of the cottage which was built of the mile-castle stones.

Now Cawfields and the Nine Nicks of Thirlwall come into view ahead.

The next gap is Bogle Hole, with very steep sides; and Winshields comes to an end at Caw Gap, where a road runs through to the north.

As I descended Winshields, and came down into the road, it was raining fast on the Nine Nicks, though still sunny where I stood.

The two gaps which follow are Bloody Gap and Thorny Doors—names significant of the many struggles they have witnessed. No doubt they were very "thorny" doors to the Picts, who tried to pass through them from the north!

The picture facing page 152 shows this gap. The Wall is in a very ruinous condition just at the gap, but much better preserved on the heights. The way in which it was made to bend to the south, to enable the Romans to enfilade the approaching enemy, is very clearly seen here.

Cawfields mile-castle can almost be discerned from this point, lying on the southern slope, just before the next gap, Pilgrims' Gap. In the distance are seen the Nine Nicks of Thirlwall, over which the Wall takes its farther course.

Seven or eight courses of facing-stones and the projecting foundations clearly visible gave me great satisfaction as I continued my way.

The wild-flowers were very wonderful, the yellow cistus, or rock-rose, growing all over the Wall, with its delicate blossoms and dark silver-lined leaves. Tall foxgloves sent up their spikes of nodding blossoms, like stately Roman Emperors, clothed in the imperial purple, while rosy wild thyme and blue speedwell prostrated themselves, like humble courtiers, at their feet.

Every writer on the Wall has, I believe, to do his duty in repeating Sir Walter Scott's verses about the flowers that grow on it—once, at least. His flowers came from the Nine Nicks, it is said, and not from this particular spot, but this seems a suitable opportunity for quoting his lines:

"TO A LADY WITH FLOWERS FROM THE ROMAN WALL"

"Take these flowers, which, purple waving,
    On the ruined rampart grew.
Where, the sons of freedom braving,
    Rome's imperial standards flew.
Warriors from the breach of danger
    Pluck no longer laurels there:
They but yield the passing stranger
    Wild-flower wreaths for beauty's hair."

As the ground dips down to the next gap, Cawfields mile-castle is seen on the slope of the hill. This was the first mile-castle to be opened, by Mr. John Clayton, in 1848. In the following year Dr. Bruce took a party of pilgrims along the Wall, and they christened this gap between Cawfields mile-castle and quarry, "The Pilgrims' Gap."

The masonry of both northern and southern gateways is massive, and in splendid condition. It should be studied from north of the Wall also. The size of this mile-castle is 63 feet by 49 feet. The pivot-holes of the gates are very clearly seen.

It was now beginning to rain, and by the time I had got through the gap and into the Cawfields quarry yard it was coming down heavily, so I sheltered in the shed of the quarry, which is close by the Haltwhistle Burn, known as the Caw Burn between this point and its source.

At a bend of the stream are the remains of a Roman water-mill, such as is described by Vitruvius, writing early in the first century. Third-century pottery has been found there, and a coin of Trajan; also the remains of the water-shoot. The mill-stones are in Chesters Museum. A little defensive rampart ran across to protect it, from river to river.

We are now also near the Haltwhistle Burn Fort, which is not a mere temporary Roman camp, as was supposed, but a permanent fort, with two branch roads leading from the gates to the Stanegate, which here crosses the burn. The headquarters building, the barracks and other buildings, and the oven were excavated in 1907 by the late Mr. J. P. Gibson and Mr. F. G. Simpson. The fort was dismantled when Æsica, the next fort on the Wall, was built.

Burnhead farm-house is next passed, standing on the site of the Wall. The line of the Wall has verged to the north-west. The Wall-ditch is our guide.

North of the Wall here there is a large Roman temporary camp, 9 acres in extent, with rounded corners, as is usual, and a short ditch across the gateway-opening, the earth out of the ditch being thrown up into a mound called a "traverse," to lie across the opening and hinder an attack.

It is worth visiting as we pass.

The rain had quite stopped; and, as I pushed on, I noted the traces of the building crossing the line of the Wall which was formerly thought to be a mile-castle. However, only a few yards away a real turret has been found. Shortly after, the Wall began to be in better condition. Two or three courses of facing-stones were in place on the south face for some distance.

Just here a stoat, carrying some sort of gruesome carcase, passed me, and disappeared into a loosely constructed part of the Wall. It ran up and down inside the Wall, furious with fright, making a noise like the clucking of an angry hen, and glaring at me through chinks between the stones. I fancy it had a young chicken.

PEEL CRAG, FROM THE GAP. HERE THE GREAT WALL BENDS
SOUTHWARD AS USUAL BEFORE DESCENDING INTO THE GAP

I pressed on quickly, for it was thundering in the distance, and soon reached Great Chesters, where the fort of ÆSICA stood. The farm-house here had a very beautifully kept lawn in front, and rows of pink columbines standing up neatly under the windows, which looked strange, though attractive, in such a wild spot.

ÆSICA

The chief feature of the fort at Æsica is its western gateway, which represents the gateway just as the Romans finally left it. There has been a total blocking up of nearly all the gates. Probably only a narrow portal was left at the south.

The fort-walls were, as is usual, reinforced by a sloping bank of earth inside, which accounts for their excellent preservation. The inner buildings have been found to be reconstructions of the latter part of the third century.

One of the ditches which go right round the outer wall of the fort has been found below the foundations of the Great Wall, showing that the fort was built some time before the Wall. Four successive ditches all appear to go under the Great Wall at the north-west angle.

Extra ramparts of earth were thrown up on the western side, for additional protection. The position of Æsica was very weak on the west before the Wall was built.

A Roman road ran from the Stanegate to the southern gateway, and again from the western gateway towards Carvoran. It can be clearly traced.

Water was brought to this fort by the Romans by means of a very winding aqueduct, 6 miles long, from the head of the Caw Burn, 2¼ miles away.

Fig. 13.—Cross-section of Fort-wall, showing how it was reinforced on the inner side with earth.

The remains at Æsica have been fenced round to protect them from cattle, but the fences are broken, so when I was there, sheep and lambs were disporting themselves on the very walls of the guard-chambers.

After passing Cockmount Hill farm-house, where, in spite of the bleak situation, white lilacs were blooming in the garden, and the regulation farm-house sycamore was firmly established, I entered a dense little wood, and here the Wall was in very satisfactory condition. Under the pine-trees it ran, its lower courses hidden by beautiful ferns and foxgloves, but I could see the projecting foundation stones in places. In the wood I met an old lady, with two pretty children, from the farm, gathering sticks. The children made just the right patches of colour there amongst the pine-needles, a patch of purple and a patch of emerald green.

South of Cockmount Hill many of the newly discovered causeways, referred to on page 34, can be seen crossing the ditch of the Vallum.

The rain now began to come down in earnest, and I hurried past the next site of a mile-castle without even looking at it. As I reached Allolee farm-house, I decided I must take shelter. Two huge specimens of the pig-tribe saw me coming, and charged down the hill at me at full speed, grunting loudly. It needed all my determination to keep on in a straight line! But they faded away, with a disappointed look, just before they reached me.

I was most hospitably received at Allolee, hung out to dry, and fed, and entertained, to my heart's content. Two children, a boy and a girl, were with their mother in the farm-house kitchen. I told them the pig-incident, and all the sympathy I got was: "Poor dears! they were hungry!"

The little girl was engaged in cutting out a jumper for her doll, a very intricate process, and I was called on to help. She was very proud of the doll, and rightly so, for through an unfortunate accident it had become bald, and her mother had made it a very neat new wig out of her own hair, with grey strands in it.

The boy had a gramophone, and he selected "Lead, kindly Light" for my benefit. I don't know if he meant it to be appropriate, but it certainly was.

"The night is dark, and I am far from home.
                            Lead Thou me on!"

And I could not help thinking how the "kindly Light" was shining in that remote little farm-house through the kindness that was being shown to a stranger.

As I sat by the fire, they told me they had no coal-shortage, because a farmer near them had found coal on his farm.

Presently other members of the family dropped in—a father, and some older brothers; but still the rain poured down, and they would not let me go. Fortunately, I had a shelter for the night awaiting me, only a mile or so away, and as soon as ever the rain stopped, I took my leave, very grateful for all they had done.

It is a very short distance from the fir-wood which shelters Allolee to Mucklebank, the highest part of the Nine Nicks of Thirlwall, 860 feet above the sea. On its western side, just where the Wall makes its customary bend to the south, to protect the gap, stands a Wall turret. Both its northern and western sides are recessed into the Wall. It was uncovered in 1891 by the late Mr. J. P. Gibson of Hexham. A rabbit-hole gave him the clue as to the existence of this turret.

Criffel now appears, as a distant peak against the sky, on the right, and Walltown farm-house is seen lying ahead on the left, with a beautiful belt of trees round it. The gap here is a wide one, and the Wall-ditch comes into play again as usual. Signs of the "King's Well" are seen in the gap, where the rushes grow thick; this is where legend says some early Christian King was baptized. Could it have been the baptism of King Edwin of Northumbria by Paulinus in 627? It hardly seems likely, but that is what is suggested, though some say it was Egbert.

CHAPTER XIV

WALLTOWN TO GILSLAND

Walltown farm-house is built on the site of the Tower where lived John Ridley, the brother of the martyred Bishop, who writes to him as "My beloved brother, John Ridley, of the Walltown."

The farmer came and spoke to me while I was making a drawing of the house from the Walltown mile-castle.

"This is a very historic place. John Ridley lived here four hundred years ago, and here am I, John Ridley, living here still."

In Haltwhistle Church, only 3 miles away, there is a very interesting tombstone to the memory of John Ridley, with a long rhyming epitaph (see facing page).

Near the farm-house there is a very beautiful avenue of old trees, beech, sycamore, ash and a few Scotch firs. A park-like meadow lies in front, in which also are fine trees. Range after range of hills sweeps away to the south, the most distant being Cross Fell.

IHON REDLE
THATE SVM
TIM DID BE
THEN: LAIRD OF THE WALTON
GON IS HE OVT OF THES VAL OF MESRE
HIS BONS LIES VNDER THES STON
——————————————————————
WE MVST BELEVE BE GODS MERSE
INTO THES WORLD GAVE HES SON
THEN FOR TO REDEM AL CHRESNTE
SO CHRIST HAES HES SOVL WOVN
——————————————————————
AL FAETHFVL PEOPLE MAY BE FAEN
WHEN DATH COMES THAT NON CA FLE
THE BODE KEPT THE SOVL IN PAEN
THROVGH CHRIST IS SET AT LEBERTE
——————————————————————
AMONG BLESSED COMPANE TO REMANE
TO SLEP IN CHRISTE NOWE IS GON
YET STEL BELEVES TO HAV AGAE
THROVGH CHRIST A IOYFVL RESVRRECCION
——————————————————————
AL FRENDES MAY BE GLAD TO HAER
WHEN HIS SOVL FROM PAEN DID GO
OVT OF THES WORLD AS DOETH APPER
IN THE YEER OF OVR LORD
A · 1562
XX

The farm-house sounds kept coming up to me as I sat on the hill painting, till at last everything seemed to be asleep, even the farm-carts, which were turned with their shafts up in a row in the yard.

One evening, while I was sitting here, there was a wonderful effect of rainbow-coloured clouds above the sun. I never saw anything like it before. These clouds were in rays, radiating upwards from the sun as a centre, and they were just like wisps of rainbow. I can't describe them in any other way. They would form and then vanish, and form again, and one spot immediately above the sun always seemed more brilliant than all the rest.

The most modern version of "John Ridley" showed me the chives which are supposed to date back to Roman times, and which look like patches of fine grey grass growing on the flat rocks on the hillside below the mile-castle. I should never have found them without help. I pulled some up, and ate some of the tiny onion-like roots with my bread-and-cheese lunch, just to see how they must have tasted to the Roman sentries, who probably ate them on the same spot when they were off duty.

I had finished my sketch of Walltown, and it was still in my painting-case when I was sitting working late one evening on Sewingshields Crags. The case lay on the grass by my side. When it was time to go home, I strapped it up tight as usual. Next morning, when I looked at the sketch, there was a large, round, dry yellow patch spread out over it! A slug had walked into my painting-case, and in strapping it up I had compressed it on the middle of the picture. I removed it carefully with a pen-knife, and every scrap of colour came with it. The (probable) birthplace of the slug and the actual scene of its death are two of the pictures which are not included in this book.

I passed another Wall turret, with only the back wall standing. Just after that came a wide nick, full of trees, alders and hawthorn, still dripping from the recent rain. The sweet smell of wet young bracken greeted me all the time. Before the next nick there are some good bits of Wall, seven or eight courses high.

So up and down went the Wall, and I with it, clinging to the sides of the steepest nicks, with unswerving loyalty to plan! Sometimes its northern face, overhanging the cliffs, presented an unbroken surface of facing-stones for 5 or 6 feet; sometimes there was but a mere mound.

Several of the nicks are little groves of trees. Sheep were grazing everywhere, and rabbits still abounded. You might see them sitting up on the Wall, the evening sun shining through their transparent ears, with a (literally) blood-red glow; or playing all sorts of pranks, apparently without fear of intrusion.

The Wall finally runs straight to the edge of Greenhead Quarry, where an iron fence is placed, to keep the unwary (or too-faithful!) follower of the Wall from tumbling over the cliff, as, alas! the Wall has already done.

In the 1884 edition of Dr. Bruce's Handbook, there is an interesting picture of a Wall turret standing on the very edge of the quarry. Now it has gone; it has simply been quarried away!

Not only was the rain over, but the sun was sending long level golden rays over the tops of the hills as I came to the quarry; and this was the end of my Wall-walk for the day. They were standing at the door looking out for me when I arrived at the house where I was to spend the night, for I had been delayed by the storm.

I had felt indignant about that Wall turret, but the next day I realized the necessity of forgiving my enemies (in the shape of the Greenhead Quarry Company), for I accepted an invitation to visit the quarry before continuing my walk.

THORNY DOORS GAP, WITH NINE NICKS OF THIRLWALL IN THE DISTANCE

It is a whinstone quarry, needless to say, for it is busy cutting a large slice out of the basaltic ridge on which the Wall has clung for so many miles. I had previously been puzzled by the appearance of the Cawfields Quarry, which is quite a landmark for miles, making a rich yellow patch in the landscape. If basalt is a dark blue-grey stone, how can it make a yellow patch? Now was my opportunity to inquire. The manager told me that although whinstone is a dark blue-grey stone, yet it has a yellow "skin" which forms on it under certain conditions, as, for example, when the earth has got in through cracks. It is not a good building-stone, apart from its colour and the difficulty of dressing it, for capillary attraction draws the water up through it very freely, so that it always seems damp. "The Romans were not able to work it, as it can't be worked with wedges."

But somehow they did manage to cut deep ditches through it at the top of Limestone Bank! The great heaps of grey whin-dust (as it is called) lying at the quarry were waiting, I was told, to be made into blocks of artificial stone, being subjected to great pressure, and thus forming an artificial "conglomerate."

Before I left they gave me a practical illustration of how the stone is brought down by blasting.

The Wall continues its course along the fields opposite the quarry, forming a boundary wall between them. It is not in good condition (having so recently tumbled over the cliff, a frivolous person might say!), but its ditch is magnificent, and was full of primroses, very late for the time of year.

The Roman fort of MAGNA is just here, lying to the south of both Wall and Vallum, which now draw near together again, after their long separation. No doubt this fort was originally built by Agricola, long before the Wall was thought of. A recent discovery, given below, goes to prove that.

The site of the fort is to the west of the farm-house of Carvoran. I had no difficulty in tracing the north rampart and the north ditch. The Stanegate came up to the fort, direct from Corstorpitum and Cilurnum; and another Roman road, the Maiden Way, coming from the south, joined it near the south-east angle. The two roads are one as far as Gilsland, where they separate, the former aiming for Carlisle, and the latter for Birdoswald and Bewcastle.

During the recent war, a very interesting bronze vessel was found at Carvoran. "Like a bucket, only the top was where the bottom should be," was the graphic description given me locally, and when I saw the vessel at Chesters Museum, I felt how well it described it. It was a measure for corn, of the time of Domitian, the last emperor under whom Agricola served, but the emperor's name had been erased. It therefore dates from about 82 A.D., but it looks as if it had been made yesterday. The inscription is as clear and clean as ever, except where it has been erased.

"IMP*/*/*/***** CAESARE
AVG · GERMANICO · XV · COS
EXACTVS · AD · S · XVIIS
HABET · P · XXXIIX"

It states that the vessel was measured and tested to hold 17½ pints. It really holds 20 pints.

No doubt the garrison at Magna received a tribute of British corn in this measure.

It had long lain near the surface of the ground at Carvoran, and the postman had kicked at it many a time as he passed, thinking its rim was an old horseshoe. At last a boy on the farm had the curiosity to get a spade and dig it up.

The Wall-ditch runs along the fields, in splendid condition, down to the valley of the Tipalt. The path lies along the north margin of the ditch. It led me over a fence at the bottom of the second field into a beautiful little tree-filled glade, with great swelling undulations in the surface of the ground as it sloped rapidly down to the Tipalt. At the bottom of this glade Thirlwall Castle came suddenly into view, and I must confess I was greatly struck by the beauty of its situation.

Thirlwall Castle (shown in the Frontispiece) dates from the Middle Ages, and has figured largely in border warfare. It is built entirely of Roman stones from the Wall. It is now in a very ruined state, all its eastern side having fallen into the river Tipalt, above which it stands. A little wooden bridge crosses the stream just below the Castle, and on this I sat to paint the picture. Behind me was Holmhead farm-house where there is a Roman inscribed stone built upside-down into the back premises, and where a dear old lady lives, the patter of whose wooden clogs I could hear most of the time as she went about her work. She used to visit me at intervals, and brought me cushions to sit upon every day I was there.

I spent some happy times on the bridge, with the life of the little hamlet going on around me: the sound of the dirling-pin on washing-day, the beating of the bucket to summon the calves to be fed, the laughter of the children as they played in the stream, and the tap, tap of the hammer of the old man at the cottage of Dooven Foot opposite. He was busy making an erection by the side of the stream to keep his fowls within bounds.

One evening I saw something white, high up on the walls of the Castle, and went to see what it was. Two little girls, about nine years old, had climbed adventurously up the walls. They came down and talked to me; told me how some day "teacher" was going to take them to the source of the Tipalt, where it rose in the hills. We got out my map and studied it. We talked of the lonely farms "out-by," with their picturesque names, such as Far-Glow, and Hope-Alone, and Seldom-Seen; and we pictured the solitary lights shining out in the darkness, and the long, quiet winter evenings they must spend, sometimes cut off by snow from all communication with the outer world; until at last a voice from below called, in shocked tones, "Nora, don't ye know it's nine o'clock?" And so they hurried off to bed.

Holmhead is a typical Northumbrian farm-house, built of Roman stones from the Wall.

I painted a picture of it in August, when hay-making was going on. To our southern eyes, the method of carting hay in these parts seems very slow and laborious. The hay-wain is dispensed with altogether. Each hay-cock, or "pike," as they call them, is dragged separately, by means of chains and a windlass, on to a flat cart with low iron wheels, called a "bogie." The trundling of the iron wheels of the bogie on the stony roads becomes a very familiar sound in the hay-season. We timed the work as I sat painting on the hill, and we found it took three men one and three-quarter hours to bring in one pike and unload it, though it came from only two fields away! They call the process "leading" hay. The hilly character of the ground, no doubt, accounts for the method employed.

Continuing my walk, I crossed the little wooden bridge over the Tipalt, and then bore round to the left, past cottages, keeping now alongside the tawny little river, a true tributary of the "tawny Tyne."

A heron flew low down across my path, and dived between the low bushes on the river bank quite close to me. I peeped through them, and there he was, standing majestically on a stone in the middle of the river, fishing, looking very beautiful with his blue-grey plumage and dull yellow legs.

Soon I came to the railway; the Wall is quite lost in these low-lying fields, and one has to cross the railway by the only path, almost on the site of the Vallum. Passing a row of new cottages, called Thirlwall View, I came out into the road leading to Gilsland, and now I could see the Vallum in the fields across the road. I entered the nearest field-gate, and was now almost on the site of the Wall again, as far as Wallend Farm. Then the Wall-ditch appeared again, very conspicuous indeed, of great size and interest. I pursued it through grassy meadows, which seemed to be all ditch and rampart, and over stone walls, till I came to a thick group of trees beside a stream. Here were the farm-houses of Chapel House and Foul Town. A troop of young black cattle saw in me a hope of getting through the farm-gate, and followed me closely, even licking my hands as I opened the gate! But they did not get through. I could not find the "Hadrian" stone at Chapel House which Dr. Bruce refers to, and they could tell me nothing of it at the farm; but I understand it has been taken to the Black Gate Museum, Newcastle. I crossed a bridge over the stream and continued westward, Orchard House, Gilsland and the Shaws Hotel coming into view on the green slopes on the right.

At the Red House, Gap, a pet lamb with a garland round its neck, made overtures to me. At the White House, I turned into the farm-yard, and went to examine the centurial stone mentioned by Dr. Bruce. It was thickly whitewashed over, and quite illegible. I had seen it so on a previous visit, and had begged to be allowed to remove the whitewash, much to the amusement of the farmer's wife. However, she humoured me, and brought me a bowl of warm water and a sponge. It was all the kinder of her, because it was Gilsland show-day, a great occasion, and she was busy sending off the men and the animals in all their bravery, with coats being brushed, and manes and tails properly combed out—all in the farm-yard.

I left the stone looking beautifully clear, though it made what the farmer probably thought was an ugly dark patch in the white wall; but I begged them to keep it so when next the wall was whitewashed.

So I was disappointed to find they had forgotten. No wonder Dr. Bruce himself failed at first to find it on his last visit; that is what I was told had happened.

After leaving White House, I found the Wallditch again magnificent between Gap and Gilsland Station, and the mounds of the Vallum running on a higher level than the Wall, for a wonder.

The line of the Wall crosses a side-road to the south of Gilsland Station, and continues through fields to the Poltross Burn, which is the boundary between Northumberland and Cumberland. I followed it, but coming to a stone wall, with piggeries and bee-hives set up close against it, blocking my path, I had to climb the wooden fence on to the railway embankment, and so came without difficulty to the edge of the burn, just where the Wall must have crossed it.

There is a curious stratification of the rocks here; sloping ledges, from 4 to 6 feet high, make a series of great natural steps down. There must be a drop of some 20 feet from the bed of the stream, where the Wall crossed it to the point where the railway arch crosses it, only a few yards away.

Farther to the south, the banks of the stream are lined with Roman stones, where the Vallum crossed it; also the sides of the Vallum-ditch. This is not found elsewhere.

Crossing the burn, I climbed the steep bank on the opposite side, which is planted thick with trees, and came out just at the site of the mile-castle which is known as Poltross Burn mile-castle. It was evidently placed here to guard the passage of the stream. It was excavated by the late Mr. J. P. Gibson and Mr. F. G. Simpson in 1910, but has been covered up again, and only a cairn of stones between the stream and the railway-line marks its situation. Locally, it was known as "The King's Stables" by the country people. The discovery in this mile-castle of a flight of stairs leading up to the rampart-walk is especially valuable, because from them a calculation of its height could be made. It was found to be 12 feet above the first-period floor, thus confirming previous calculations of its probable height. There was also a complete arrangement of inner buildings with walls 2 feet thick.

The Wall can be seen from here running through the Vicarage garden, the other side of the railway.

I crossed the line opposite the Vicarage, and then cut across the fields, past the schools, into the road.

Calling at the Vicarage, I was most kindly received by the Vicar, who is always willing to welcome pilgrims of the Wall. He showed me the fine piece of Wall in his garden, the most striking feature of which is the unusually wide foundation which has been laid bare. There were also two Roman altars, which had long formed part of the altar-steps at the little Saxon Church of Over Denton, 2 miles away; and some centurial stones, ballista balls and mill-stones. He pointed out where the Vallum also ran through his garden, for Vallum and Wall are very near together here.

At Over Denton Church the original chancel arch is a Roman gateway brought from Amboglanna, and the font is formed from the capital of a Roman pillar.

Close by Gilsland Vicarage lives Miss Ewart, of Raise House, a favourite resort of archæologists, and students of the Wall, and to her I appealed for lunch.

CHAPTER XV

GILSLAND TO LANERCOST

After lunching at Gilsland, I started off again at three o'clock, intending to make only a short distance that day, and to sleep at the Lanercost Temperance Hotel. I picked up the line of the Wall where I had dropped it—at the Vicarage. Keeping westward along the road, I turned into a field-path on the right, just past a new cottage known as "Roman Wall Villa," behind which, remains of the Wall are to be seen. This path leads through meadows right along the line of the Wall, with the lovely little river Irthing twisting its way below on the right, half-hidden by the trees which overhang it.

Fragments of the core of the Wall are seen at intervals, and presently the path runs right along the bottom of the deep Wall-ditch. Great trees grow on the top of its northern mound. So we come to Willowford farm-house, where for the moment all traces of the Wall disappear, no doubt because its stones were used to build the house.

I descended the steep little grassy hill on which the house stands, and crept through the barbed-wire fence at the bottom into a flat meadow on a level with the river. There, in the hedge, were Wall-stones in plenty, and again the path lay in the ditch, though it had been very nearly levelled, probably by the plough. The river Irthing was still on the right, curving round to meet the line of the Wall. Just before they meet, the Wall disappears again, and the low bank of the river is covered with undergrowth. The opposite bank is very high and precipitous, thickly clothed with trees and bushes; but on its summit can be seen clinging a precious bit of the Wall, seven courses high.

Keeping to my resolve of following the Wall through thick and thin, I took off my shoes and stockings, and crossed the river, after searching in vain for any signs of how the Wall had crossed it. Where it had crossed it I could guess, from the overhanging piece of Wall in front, and the line along which I had come.

I am told by those who have the right to express an opinion that there certainly is a bridge buried here, on the east bank, and that it's simply "asking" to be excavated!

The river was fairly low, so I was able to cross dry-footed, jumping from stone to stone, with only one hazardous jump in the middle, where the current of the stream flows deepest. I was now beneath the cliffs which Jenkinson in his Guide describes as "now quite precipitous and impossible to ascend." But it was not impossible at all, though difficult. The thick growth of trees and bushes was both a hindrance and a help, for, though it barred my way, it gave more foothold on the steep bank.

At last I came out on the top, close to the fine bit of Wall still standing, and could examine it at leisure. It is making straight for Birdoswald farm-house, now not far away, and the eye can follow it along the boundary hedge between cornfields and pasture-land.

Close by, on the high bank of the Irthing, are traces of the Harrow's Scar mile-castle, placed here to guard the passage of the stream.

THE WALL OVERHANGING THE IRTHING.

This bank of the Irthing, where the Wall still clings at the top, was a perfectly bare, sandy bank in 1848, without trees or undergrowth, as shown in H. B. Richardson's drawing in Newcastle. In 1801, when Hutton climbed it, he speaks of "brambles," so it would almost look as if there had been a landslip on this bank between 1801 and 1848. Now it is covered very thickly with vegetation, especially low down near the river.

THE WALL OVERHANGING THE IRTHING

When I was making this sketch, I walked one day to the bank of the river, a little below the Wall, and there I suddenly saw the figure of a girl appear in a tree overhanging the water on the other side. I looked again, and I saw she was seated in a little wooden chair suspended from a wire, and was pulling herself across by another wire, both of which crossed from side to side. I waited for her to land, and then I asked: "Do you think I might use that?" She said: "It belongs to Underheugh, that farm down there, but I dare say you might."

I promptly went to Underheugh and asked permission. The farmer's wife said: "Oh ay, ye may if ye like, but ye'd do better by plodgin'."

"What is 'plodging'?"

She laughed. "Oh, it's just takin' off yer shoes and stockin's and goin' throo on yer feet."

"I have done that already; so I'd rather cross by the wire," said I.

"Well, then, ye may, so long as ye leave the ropes right."

So when it was time to go home, I ventured into the chair and laid hold of the wire rope, and pulled. I only had one hand, as the other clutched my sketching-things, so it was rather hard work. It was literally uphill work after I got to the middle, though to start with it was downhill, and the thing almost went of itself. It felt funny to be suspended from a rope over the middle of the Irthing, in this very primitive "chair."

I asked at Underheugh what they called the arrangement, but they could not say. Then I inquired at Birdoswald. "Oh, you mean a sort of an aeroplane?"

That was the nearest I could get! And "a sort of an aeroplane" it will always be to me! I used it several times after that.

A short walk from the overhanging Wall brought me to AMBOGLANNA, at Birdoswald. This is the largest of all the forts, occupying 5½ acres as against the 5¼ of Cilurnum. Like Cilurnum it has six gateways, an extra and smaller gateway to east and west, lying to the south of the main eastern and western gateways.

Unlike Cilurnum, but like Borcovicium and Æsica, its northern wall is joined, at its rounded corners, by the Great Wall. The circumscribing ditch of the fort has been found underneath the Great Wall, as at Æsica, showing that the fort is earlier than the Wall.

An older fort is shown to have stood here, because the ditch which surrounded it has been traced, cutting across the present fort to the north portal of the eastern gateway, and this ditch can be traced again in one or two places westward.

The north gate of the original fort would be about on the site of the Principia of the present one. The excavations conducted by Professor Haverfield and Mr. and Mrs. T. H. Hodgson, between 1895 and 1900, prove that the fort was extended north and south at the same time, northwards over the ditch of the older fort, and southwards on to the Vallum. The south-west angle tower is where the north mound of the Vallum ought to be. The Vallum curves round the original fort, and makes a straight course east. To the west it has been entirely destroyed by a landslip.

Fig. 14.—Comparative Plans of Gateways. (After John Ward.) Scale: 30 feet to 1 inch.

The granary, just in front of the farm-house, has air-passages underneath, to keep the corn both dry and cool, as at Corstopitum. The gateways have as usual been built up in the later periods of the Roman occupation, and the floors raised. The north portal of the large eastern gateway has been blocked, and the west portal of the southern gateway. Both of these gateways are in good preservation, especially the eastern one, where one of the imposts is specially noticeable.

Inscriptions found at Birdoswald confirm the Notitia statement that the first cohort of the Dacians, styled the Ælian, was quartered here.

The picture facing this page represents the view from Amboglanna referred to by the late Lord Carlisle, in his Diary in Turkish and Greek Waters. He says:

"Strikingly, and to any one who has coasted the uniform shore of the Hellespont, and crossed the tame low plain of the Troad, unexpectedly lovely is this site of Troy, if Troy it was. I could give any Cumberland borderer the best notion of it, by telling him that it wonderfully resembles the view from the point just outside the Roman camp at Birdoswald: both have that series of steep conical hills, with rock enough for wildness, and verdure enough for softness; both have that bright trail of a river creeping in and out with the most continuous indentations: the Simois has, in summer at least, more silvery shades of sand."

VIEW FROM THE FORT OF AMBOGLANNA, LOOKING SOUTH, ACROSS THE IRTHING

While busy over this book, I came across a photograph of the Greek view at a friend's house, and though I recognized the resemblance, I felt that Cumberland could well hold its own with Greece.

From Amboglanna the Wall and the road follow the same line as far as the village of Banks. For 500 yards west of Birdoswald, the Wall is the south boundary of the road. From that point onwards to Banks the Wall is the foundation of the road. This was ascertained by excavations made by the late Mr. J. P. Gibson and Mr. F. G. Simpson, who found that two Wall turrets (known as High House and Apple-tree turrets) come within the road-boundary, as also does a quarter of the mile-castle known as High House mile-castle. In these turrets and the mile-castle four floors were traceable, the dates of which are roughly as follows, beginning with the highest:

1. About 300 A.D.
2.            210 A.D. under Severus.
3.            158 A.D.     "     Antoninus Pius.
4. 120-125 A.D.         "     Hadrian.

The Vallum on the left and the Wall-ditch on the right call for notice all along this stretch of road; and here also is something unique, the turf-wall, running to meet the Great Wall at Wallbowers. As has been mentioned, it starts from near Harrow's Scar mile-castle, and is like the string of a bow, the Great Wall being the bow.

On the "Pilgrimage" in September 1920, sections of the turf-wall were cut to show the black and white lines marking the limits of the turves. The vegetable-matter turns black, and bleaches the soil that comes next to it.

At Coome Crag I turned off to the left to see the Roman quarrymen's marks. I knocked at the lodge-door to ask for a guide, but only a dog replied, and he was chained. So I followed the path, which runs through a beautiful wood, sloping down towards the Irthing; and I had no difficulty in finding the quarry, and the Roman names, cut rather near the bottom of a large mass of rock with a flat wall-like surface. How surprised "SECVRVS" and "IVSTVS" and "MATHRIANVS" would have been if they had been told that thousands would follow the path to the quarry, like pilgrims to a shrine, just to see the names they had cut in an idle moment during their lunch-hour! It may be that they were employed by Severus in repairing the Wall, for there is another inscription, "FAVST ET RVF COS," and Dr. Bruce tells us that Faustinus and Rufus were Consuls in 210 A.D., just when Severus was in Britain.

Near Leahill farm-house, on the right of the road, the Wall-ditch is in excellent condition.

It had been very hot and close in the Coome Crag woods, but now there was a cool exhilarating breeze. On the left the Lake-mountains had come clearly into view, Helvellyn, Blencathra and snow-capped Skiddaw. I passed a number of cottages which had been allowed to fall into disrepair and would soon disappear altogether.

In the village of Banks, or Banks Hill, I saw an Inn, called "The Traveller's Rest," and thought of tea, but, alas! there was no one at home. The Banks Burn crosses under the road at the foot of a little hill beyond the Inn, and in a field this side of the burn, there can be seen a great piece of the Wall with bushes growing out of it. Just after crossing the burn, the road ceases to run east and west, and instead cuts the line of the Wall at right-angles. I stood in the turn doubtfully, wondering how I could still continue to follow the Wall, as a private garden evidently lay beyond the hedge which faced me. Two children, and a man carrying a suit-case, were also waiting in the road—waiting, it appeared, for a motor-car, just coming into sight. Fortunately for me, this was the owner of the garden, with his two grandchildren, and he kindly sent one of them to ask if I was looking for the Roman Wall. Of course I said, "Yes"; and then he shouted: "Wait till I have packed the children into the car, and I'll take you to see it." So I waited, and then followed him along a side-road into the garden of Hare Hill, where suddenly, round a corner, we came full on a splendid piece of Wall. This is the piece of which Hutton says: "I viewed this relic with admiration. I saw no part higher." When he saw it, the facing-stones were all gone, but now fifteen courses have been restored on the north side by Lord Carlisle's architect. It stands 9 feet 10 inches high.

As we came away, I remembered there should be a mile-castle close to this piece of Wall, and I wanted to turn back to look for it. My guide was quite excited about it; he had no idea there was a Castle at Hare Hill! But we would ask his wife about it first. So we went to the house, and as we entered, he called: "Mrs. R——, here's a lady to see you." I said: "Mr. R—— has kindly been showing me the Roman Wall in your garden." He turned sharply on me and said: "Now how on earth did you know my name?" I explained that it had not required a wizard to guess it, under the circumstances!

Mrs. R—— could throw no light on the subject of the mile-castle, and her husband continued to murmur: "To think I should have had this place twenty years without knowing there was a castle in the garden!" I again suggested going back to the Wall to look for it; but no! he said we would go and ask some neighbours who lived in a long, low, whitewashed thatched cottage close by, and who "ought to know, for they have lived there over four hundred years."

I found this a very interesting visit. The family consisted of two brothers and a sister, all unmarried. They were the last remaining members of the Burtholme family, who have occupied this cottage since the sixteenth century. It had been the village smithy, and their father had been the last of a series of "Thomas Burtholmes, blacksmiths," who figure largely in the parish register. The cottage was full of tokens of antiquity. On the old dresser there was the most beautiful and complete set of pewter plates that I have ever seen, each plate marked "T. B.," and I understood that Lady Carlisle had more than once borrowed them for exhibition at Naworth Castle on some special occasion.

But as for the Roman mile-castle, they also had never heard of it; so we went back to the Wall, and there, quite clearly discernible, it lay, between the line of the Wall and the Hare Hill cottage; and though nothing but grassy mounds could be seen, still it was something to have a "castle" of any sort in one's garden, so the proud owner thought! He told me he was a Tynemouth man, and had come to stay at Lanercost Temperance Hotel many years ago, when paralyzed after a bad smash-up in a railway accident; and there, in the country peace and quiet, he had learned to walk again. No wonder that he loved the neighbourhood, and had been glad to secure this cottage for his permanent use.

Lanercost Temperance Hotel was my objective that evening, and he offered to show me the shortest way, continuing the line of the Wall from his garden. We went through a farm-yard and along the fields, seeing bits of the Wall in the hedge at frequent intervals, and the ditch in the next fields to the north. Below, on the left, ran the Vallum, sometimes clearly seen, and sometimes disappearing in the Priory Woods.

Up Craggle Hill the Wall-ditch is very strongly marked, and in one place is full of water.

There is a lovely view from this hill, stretching right over Carlisle to the Solway, and to Scotland, and the Lake-mountains.

At Hayton-gate Farm we left the Wall and turned down southwards, crossing the Vallum, and soon coming into the lane which leads to Lanercost Priory.

The Vicar of Lanercost was standing outside the ancient gateway of the Priory; the evening service was just over, and he was apparently taking leave of the last departing member of his congregation. My guide performed a rough-and-ready introduction as we drew near, shouting: "Mr. —— here's a pilgrim to see you who has walked from Wallsend." The Vicar came forward and shook hands, and then kindly promised, at my request, to let me have the keys of the Priory at nine o'clock next morning, instead of the usual hour of ten. The beauty of the ruins in their warm red stone struck me very forcibly as I saw them now for the first time in the evening light.

I continued my way to the Lanercost Hotel, over the picturesque stone bridge (dated 1723) which here crosses our now familiar friend, the Irthing. "The last departing member of the congregation" was just mounting his bicycle, but he kindly stopped to point out to me the remains of an ancient bridge on the north side of the river, possibly a Roman bridge, the position of which indicates that the river has changed its course. He then asked if I wanted to see Naworth Castle the next day. It was not really in my plan, for I had been told it was not open to visitors till two o'clock, and that would have delayed me too long, and I said so. I did not know I was speaking to Lord Carlisle's agent, but now he gave me his name, and courteously offered to show me the castle in the morning, after my visit to the Priory. Such an opportunity was not to be missed, so I thankfully accepted.

It was a blow for the moment when I reached the Hotel to find that they could not take me in. Week-end visitors occupied all their bedrooms, and the "all" was probably not many. However, the proprietress told me there were houses along the road to Brampton where I might get taken in. I was sorry not to stop at Lanercost, for the Inn is in a beautiful spot, with the woods of Naworth Park just opposite, and the Irthing flowing past almost at its doors. Besides, every step I took now would be one step farther from the Wall, and would add to my journey on the following day. But there was no help for it, so I pushed on up the steep hill towards Brampton, with Naworth Park on my left, and passing on the right Boothby, where the old Dowager Lady Carlisle had made her home.

I called at several cottages, but no one could give me a bed. It was now beginning to get dark, and I was thinking it would soon be too late to call at another house, when I came to one which looked more promising. In answer to my knock, an old man appeared with a long white beard, and a face which would have done credit to an apostle. When I told him what I wanted, he looked doubtful, but asked me to come in. I followed him along the passage, through the kitchen, where a cheerful log-fire was burning, and through the garden to a cow-byre at the back of the house. There, in spite of my desire to find a haven, I forgot everything else in looking at the picture before me. A young woman was milking the cow, and a picturesque white-haired woman held the lantern for her. The face of the younger woman, seen in the lantern-light, looked really beautiful. A small boy and a collie dog made up the picture. There was something in the lighting and the grouping—in the whole scene—which enthralled me. I said to myself: "It is worth anything to have seen that," and it seemed hardly necessary to ask if they could take me in. I knew quite well that I had come to the right house. And so I had! They made no difficulty about the lateness of the hour, about the bed not being made up, nor any details of that kind. They said I looked tired, and that was enough for them. And indeed I was hungry, for I had had nothing since lunch at Gilsland, and had been walking all the time. So I did full justice, first to the new-laid eggs and "berry-cake," and then to the roomy feather-bed, where I slept till daybreak.

Next morning my kind hostesses filled the crannies of my haversack with lunch, and I set out to visit Lanercost Priory.

CHAPTER XVI

LANERCOST TO BLEATARN

Lanercost Priory is built almost entirely of Roman stones. Dr. Bruce was of opinion that there must have been a fort on the site, and that, as the river Irthing was crossed by a Roman bridge close by, it might have been thought necessary to guard the passage. However, recent opinion is entirely against this view.

The nave of the Priory church is used as the parish church; the choir and transepts are roofless. It must have been very beautiful when the building was complete, though indeed the ruins are beautiful as they are.

In the crypt are Roman altars, and a sculptured stone representing Jupiter and Hercules. One of the altars is dedicated by the hunters of Banna to the holy god Silvanus, and suggests how these Roman officers may have spent their leisure. The situation of "Banna" has not been identified.

From Lanercost I visited Naworth Castle, but, interesting and beautiful as it is, it hardly can find a place in the limits of this book. Now if only it could present a claim to be built of Roman stones——!

From Naworth I made straight for Hayton-gate, on the Wall, to pick up the thread at the right place. The farmer's wife came out and followed me, as I turned westward along the Wall. I looked back after a little. "Ye'll be thinking I'm following ye," she cried. "It's they hens; they're awfu' for laying away." And with each dive into the nettles, she brought out an egg.

The next farm is Randelands. Here the ground begins to slope down towards Burtholme Beck, and the village of Burtholme is away on the left. A mile-castle appears, covered more thickly with buttercups and daisies than the rest of the field. To the north is Walton Wood, which is so dense that the country people say that a stranger placed there could never find his way out.

Before crossing the road which leads to the right to Garthside Farm, I saw several strips of Wall in the hedge, the core including great blocks of red sandstone, such as is used in the building of Lanercost Priory. Oaks, hawthorns and alders were growing on the top, while below was a perfect flower-garden—primroses, bluebells, campion, speedwell, garlic and the greater stitchwort.

From the Garthside road, the Wall-ditch formed the boundary between a field of wheat and a hay-field, so I was able to follow it till I came out into another lane at Howgill. Here in the farmyard I began to search for the inscribed stone, mentioned by Dr. Bruce as being in the wall of an outhouse. Two men were driving out a flock of sheep, and in answer to my "Good day," one of them said: "I know what ye're looking for; wait a bit and I'll show ye." He led me through the farm-yard, and through a wicket-gate into a garden; and there, lying on the ground, overgrown with moss, and almost buried in ground-elder, was the stone. It seemed to me that it was much safer when it was built into the outhouse. My guide said it was a long time since he had shown it to anybody, and I could well believe it.

Dr. Bruce says of it: "It seems to record the achievements of a British tribe, the Catuvellauni. Tacitus tells us that Agricola took Southern Britons with him to the battle of Mons Graupius; Hadrian and Severus may have been similarly accompanied in their expeditions."

From Howgill I had to turn north along the lane a little way in order to strike the Wall again.

I soon came to Low Wall, the next farm, and now I began to have visions of a glass of milk with my lunch. It was very quiet in the farm-yard, and I guessed the household must be at dinner, and so it proved.

The door on which I knocked opened straight into the living-room, and remains of soup and potatoes were on the table, from which men and women were just rising.

Miss B——, the daughter, who answered my knock, insisted on taking me into the parlour to eat my lunch, and when she had fetched some milk, she sat and talked to me. She told me of their experiences during the war, how they had had refugee Belgians close to them, at Howgill—relays of Belgians, some quite nice, and others "a rough lot." These last used to catch and eat the blackbirds, besides sucking their eggs, and had made quite a stir in this quiet neighbourhood.

My lunch finished, she took me back to the living-room, and introduced me to her mother, a dear old lady of ninety-one. When I told her I was walking to Bowness, she at once began to recall a visit she had paid eighty years ago, when she had gone to stay at Peartree House, Bowness, on account of her health. She made the journey by canal, from Carlisle to Port Carlisle, and had evidently enjoyed the whole experience. This canal was only open from 1823 to 1854.

When I got up to go, Miss B—— popped on her sunbonnet and came with me. She showed me where a mile-castle had been excavated, in 1900, in one of their fields, north of the house.

In the field north of Dovecote, I thought I saw traces of a turret, but I could not be sure.

The core of the Wall is now clearly to be seen, all the way to the King Water, but both Wall and ditch disappeared in a field of young corn which slopes down to the water's edge.

The King Water flows from north to south at this point, right across the line of the Wall. As is so often the case with northern rivers, it has a very steep bank on one side, while the ground slopes gently down on the other. There is nothing to show how the Wall was carried across this stream, but I found it very easily fordable, by stepping-stones just where the Wall must have been. On this May day, the steep western bank was a riot of colour. The colour of the earth of the bank is red, almost pink, from the red sandstone; on it was growing a perfect blaze of yellow broom. With a deep blue sky overhead, and the fresh green of the grass and trees, the whole colour-scheme was very much inclined to be garish—not to say "Futurist"—in character!

I crossed the stream, and climbed the red bank, threading my way between the bushes of broom, from which the bees were raising a continuous drone. It was easy to pick up the Wall again on the top of the cliff; a great ash was growing just on the Wall, at the cliff's edge. On the right at this point a little stream runs into the King Water, forming a natural Wall-ditch. Broom and blue-bells made a harmony of blue and gold in its narrow gorge.