Hadrian's Wall

This brings us to what are known as "centurial stones," many of which are found along the line of the Wall. The inscription on these stones is always preceded by a reversed C, thus [reversed C], or an angle, thus, >, which indicates Centuria. It seems probable that they were set into the Wall to indicate that a particular section was built by troops under the command of such-and-such a centurion. The centurial sign is always followed by a name.

A deep V-shaped ditch defended the Wall all the way on the north side, except where it was protected by natural precipices. This ditch, at its greatest, was about 15 feet deep and 40 feet across at the top. It must have greatly added to the formidable appearance of the Wall on the side presented to the enemy.

No matter what the character of the material to be excavated, the ditch clings closely to the Wall on all the lower ground. It is hewn through basalt, sandstone and limestone with equal indifference.

The Wall is constructed in the method usual with the Romans; that is to say, it consists of a rubble core mixed with mortar, faced on each side by masonry blocks. The stone used for the facing is a species of sandstone. The size of the blocks is very regular: 8 or 9 inches by 10 or 11 inches on the face, and sometimes as much as 20 inches long. The length is tapered off to form a wedge-shape, so as to bind well into the core of the Wall. After a little practice, one can readily recognize the Wall stones where they have been made use of in later buildings and in fences.

The front surface of the stones is often tooled in a rough pattern, with diagonal lines, known as "diamond broaching," or with waved lines, known as "feather broaching." The latter has been held to be specially characteristic of Severus's work of reconstruction.

The Wall was built on a foundation of flat flagstones, laid on the rock. Upon these, one or two courses of facing-stones were set in place, and into the intervening space was poured a mass of fluid mortar. Rough stones of any shape—chiefly whinstones—were then introduced into the mortar, which, when dry, bound all together in one solid mass. So course after course was added until the required height was reached.

On gently undulating ground the courses of the Wall keep parallel to the surface of the ground; on steep slopes the courses are laid horizontally.

The colour of the stone is very varied; individual stones are brownish, yellowish, reddish, grey; and the general impression varies also because the stone has not always "weathered" in the same way.

Like the Great Wall of China, the Wall disregards obstacles, climbs hills, and crosses valleys and streams, choosing always the greatest possible heights to traverse.

Camden says of it:

"Verily, I have seene the tract of it, over the high pitches and steepe descents of hills wonderfully rising and falling."

It is set for the most part in very beautiful surroundings, sometimes in the peaceful and fertile lowlands, sometimes on the lonely barren hills, with wide vistas stretching out to north and south. The highest hill it climbs is Winshields, 1230 feet high.

Unlike the Great Wall of China, it has suffered much at the hands of the destroyer, and for miles together scarcely a trace is to be seen. In the more or less populated districts it has been used as a quarry, and farm-houses, churches, and pele-towers have been built with its stones. For 19 miles out of Newcastle the road (made by General Wade in 1753, from Newcastle to Carlisle) runs chiefly on the foundations of the Wall, and much of the Wall was pulled down then, to give place to "military necessities." This road I shall in future refer to as "Wade's Road."

THE WALL SEEN FROM CUDDY'S CRAG.
HERE FOR A LONG DISTANCE IT IS EASY TO WALK ALONG THE TOP
OF THE WALL, WHICH IS 8 FEET WIDE, AND 5 OR 6 FEET HIGH.

The Wall is best preserved on the lonely heights, as at Borcovicium, where in parts it may be seen going up hill and down dale, at its original width of 8 feet, and 5 or 6 feet high. The greatest height of any fragment still standing is 9 feet 10 inches, at Hare Hill, Banks, in Cumberland.

The forts along the Wall, or "stations," as they are sometimes called, are military cities, set at an average distance of five miles apart, with barracks, storehouses, baths, etc., and very often with suburbs outside the enclosing wall.

The clue to the names of the forts has been found in a document which has fitly been called the "Who's Who" of the later Roman Empire. This document is known as the Notitia; and the section which refers to the Wall is headed, Item per lineam Vatti. Then follows a list of all the forts along the Wall, with the name of the body of troops stationed at each. There are twenty-three on the list, and only the first twelve have been satisfactorily identified—as follows:

The means of identification has been by altars or other inscribed stones found on the spot. For instance, at Housesteads was found an altar with this inscription:

"To Jupiter, the best and greatest, and the deities of Augustus, the first cohort of the Tungrians (a military one) commanded by Quintus Verius Superstis, præfect."

At Carrawburgh there was found a stone of the date 237 A.D., with the words "COH · I · BATAVORUM" very clearly inscribed. At Chesterholm more than one altar has been found inscribed "COH · IIII · GALLORVM."

At Walwick Chesters was found an important slab declaring that "the [soldiers] of the second ala (or cavalry regiment) of Asturians restored [this temple which had fallen down] through age."

At Great Chesters a roofing slab was found stamped "COH · I · ASTVR," besides other inscriptions.

So also at Carvoran and Birdoswald there is abundant confirmation of the Notitia statement.

The largest fort is Amboglanna, 5½ acres; the smallest is at Drumburgh, ¾ of an acre, an exceptionally small site.

Fig. 2: COMPARATIVE PLANS OF MILE-CASTLE & TURRET

The mile-castles or castella were placed at the distance of one Roman mile, or seven furlongs, from each other. They vary in size, but are roughly about 60 feet by 50. The Wall forms their north wall; their east and west walls are bonded into the Wall, so they were evidently built at the same time as the Wall. Their southern angles have been rounded off outside, though rectangular within.

There has always been a massive gateway to the north and to the south, with a central road between, and inner buildings on either side of it.

There were two Wall turrets between each pair of mile-castles. They were sentry-boxes, recessed into the great Wall, with walls 3 feet thick, and measuring about 12 feet by 10.

The Romans always had a military way accompanying their fortifications. The Stanegate, made by Agricola, has a foundation of cobbles bedded in clay, and on that is a layer of cobbles or gravel, considerably raised in the middle. Kerbstones on either side mark its limits. It is now certain, through work done, that the paved military road which accompanies the Wall extended for its whole distance, running along between the Wall and the Vallum. It is about 18 feet wide, and can be very frequently recognized by its curved surface and stone kerbs, although it is grass-grown. The modern field-gates are very often placed upon it.

CHAPTER IV

THE VALLUM

The history of the Vallum in detail would appear to be as follows:

The Emperor Hadrian decided that his new frontier should be defended by a chain of new forts, and that a great ditch—the Vallum-ditch—should be dug across the island, along the line of these forts, to mark the boundary of the Roman Province of Britain. This would be quite consistent with his usual policy of limiting the extent of the Roman Provinces in order to strengthen his hold on what it was most important to retain. By keeping to the south of the chain of forts, the ditch would come under their protection.

That the ditch, and not the mounds, was the objective is pretty certain, for the ditch was made continuous at all costs, while the mounds were afterwards subject to trespass by the road, by quarries, by a mile-castle etc.

The mounds are the upcast from the ditch, not thrown up on the very edge of the ditch, for then rain and other causes would soon have combined to fill the ditch again, but carried some 24 feet away, leaving a flat safety platform, known as a "berm," on each side, between the ditch and the mound. Thus the mounds had the effect of making the ditch appear deeper, and yet had no great tendency to fall back again into it. The mounds are not the mere upcast from the ditch; sods, and sometimes stones are laid as kerbs to strengthen them, and keep them from settling down on themselves.

A subsidiary mound to the south of the ditch is often found, covering a portion of the berm. This is now known to be no part of the original scheme, but to consist of a later clearing of the ditch. Sometimes there are two subsidiary mounds, one to the north as well.

In this connection, three important points have been noted by Mr. F. G. Simpson and Dr. R. C. Shaw.

1. That there are ancient causeways across the Vallum-ditch in some parts of its course, where the ditch has been quite filled up level with the berms.

2. That wherever these causeways occur, gaps occur, opposite the causeways, in the Vallum-mounds; and this suggests that a passage-way has been cut through the mounds, and that the earth removed has been used for filling up the ditch at the same point, so as to make a roadway right across the earth-work.

Fig. 3.—Three stages in the history of the Vallum.

3. That in many cases gaps occur in the mounds where there are no corresponding causeways across the ditch; but it is just in these regions that the subsidiary mound is found. Where there are causeways, there is no subsidiary mound.

The deduction is that when the causeways had served their purpose the ditch was cleared again, and the clearings were cast up to form the marginal mound; but nothing was done to fill up the gaps, because the ditch was the only consideration.

Excavations have all tended to support this theory. The causeways were evidently made not long after the digging of the ditch, because the ditch is not silted up under the cast-up rubbish of which the causeways are formed; and everywhere else in the Vallum-ditch there is a depth of 3 or 4 feet of silt.

Gaps occur in the Vallum-mounds all along the line to beyond Carlisle, with great regularity (as if they had some set purpose) and generally about 45 yards apart. The explanation suggested is that nearly all the stone and building-materials needed for building the Wall and repairing the forts had to be brought from beyond the Vallum; that thousands of men, employed in bringing materials, would be constantly passing over the mounds and ditch of the Vallum. Hence the need for causeways and gaps.

We can imagine the men would get impatient at having to climb a mound, descend into a ditch, and then climb another mound at each journey north or south. And if rough carts were used, a causeway would be a necessity. By degrees continuous traffic would of itself sink a path across the mounds; and what would be easier than to make deliberate gaps and fill up the ditch with the soil?

The Romans were a methodical people, and in undertaking an enormous work like the Wall they would certainly have points, at regular distances apart, to which building materials had to be brought. The only difficulty in the theory seems to be that a gap every 45 yards could hardly be necessary.

Supposing this theory to be correct, then the Vallum is older than the Wall and its contemporary buildings, but very little older. It has already been proved that the Vallum is not older than the original forts, because it always curves round to the south when it approaches a fort, in order to avoid it.

The Stone Wall appears to have been an after-thought, found necessary for the final solution of the defensive problem.

It has long been a question whether there was not originally a turf-wall right across the island, thrown up hastily to mark out the course of the Stone Wall, and as a temporary defence, and then gradually replaced by the Stone Wall. The presence of a piece of turf-wall, more than a mile long, between Birdoswald and Wallbowers, running north of the Vallum and south of the Stone Wall, has to be accounted for; and for two reasons it seems probable that this was only a temporary structure: first, because there is no carefully-laid stone foundation under the turves, as is the case with the Antonine Wall; secondly, because no military way accompanies it, and the Romans always had a road accompanying their fortifications.

Mr. Simpson thinks this particular stretch represents a mistake in the laying out of the works, because it is so close to the Vallum that a mile-castle could not have been built at the usual position: which mistake was corrected by the Stone Wall, but the fruits of which it was not thought necessary to remove.

Or—another theory—this turf-wall may have been a temporary local barrier, thrown up during some interruption of the building of the Stone Wall. It is certain that the turf-wall is the earlier, for where it ends, at Wallbowers, its ditch goes under the Stone Wall, and had to be filled up when the Stone Wall was built.

CHAPTER V

THE WALK: WALLSEND TO WALBOTTLE

I decided to begin my walk at the Newcastle end because I thought it would be the least interesting part, and I wanted to get it over. However, it proved far more interesting than I expected.

I reached Newcastle from King's Cross at five o'clock on a May morning, and, booking my luggage, I started off at once, knapsack on back, for Wallsend.

The sun had risen, and though the houses hid it, rosy clouds that faced me proclaimed its presence as I turned eastwards.

Along Collingwood Street I went, across Pilgrim Street, then under the railway-arch which crosses City Road; and there, on my right, were the ruins of the old Sallyport gateway, which stand near—if not on—the line of the wall.

Then past "St. Dominic's Priory," with its modern buildings and prosaic brass-plate, to Byker Bridge, over the valley of the Ouseburn, which appears to be all valley and very little burn. At first I searched in vain for any sign of water; I saw only a valley full of rubbish. And the stony bed of the little stream contained even more broken crockery than stones.

Byker Hill followed, lined with small shops. I sighed as I remembered what it had looked like in the eighteenth century. For before "industrial necessities" claimed it (as shown in Dr. Bruce's third edition) it was a country road with a picturesque windmill on the hill, a large piece of Wall still standing, and a beautiful view of the city and the Tower of St. Nicholas' Church (now the Cathedral) in the distance!

Turning to the left along Shields Road, I was amused to see an old woman, in dirty apron and grey shawl, going round knocking at much be-curtained windows on the ground floor with a small hammer: "Lizzie, it's well-nigh six o'clock"; "Mary, it's time ye riz;" and so on, at house after house. It was my first sight of a "knocker-up."

The misty valley of the Tyne began to show on my right, with clusters of chimneys peering through the mist. I thought Shields Road would never end; but it brought me to Wallsend at last. There I turned to the right, and lighted at once on Hadrian Street! And, spying an "inscribed stone" on a building opposite, I crossed over, and this is what I read:

"The Eastern Gateway of
the Roman Camp of
SEGEDUNUM
stood about twenty yards
to the south of this spot
and remains of it were found
when this house was built
Anno Domini 1912."

The building is Simpson's Hotel, Wallsend. And so I really had reached the Wall's End (although for me it was the Wall's Beginning) in the midst of a wilderness of houses.

There are drawings in Newcastle which show the south-east angle of Segedunum in 1848, with grassy banks, and trees, and a peaceful river, and not a house to be seen.

I wandered down towards the Tyne now, to get an idea of where that south-east angle must have been, but it seemed hopeless, with buildings crowded thickly together as they are. There should be a stone to mark the site, but I did not find it. The Wall ran down from this corner right into the river, just as it did at the other end, into the Solway, at Bowness, to cut off the passage of an enemy.

While part of Messrs. Swan & Hunter's shipyard was being levelled, prior to the building of the Mauretania, this part of the Wall was discovered, not far from the river-bank. The Carpathia was "completing" at the time at the same yard, and several Wall-stones were placed in the saloon in a glass case.

I turned westward along Hadrian Street, past the row of houses called "The Roman Wall," and made for the farm-house of Old Walker. The Wall-ditch can be seen at intervals, and fragments of the core; and I could recognize Wall-stones in the farm-house. I saw no signs of mile-castles, though there should be two before we reach Byker Hill, nor did I trace any further signs of Wall, though I followed its course as I had come—by the Priory, Sallyport Gate, Wall Knoll, Pilgrim Street, and St. Nicholas' Church (the Cathedral), of which Leland says, writing about 1539: "S. Nicolas Chirch in Newcastel stondith on the Picth Waulle."

Newcastle was the second fort on the line, the fort of PONS AELII, so-called from the bridge which Hadrian, who was of the Ælian family, built across the Tyne. The present Swing Bridge marks the site of Hadrian's Bridge, which appears to have lasted, with various repairs, till 1248 A.D. Traces of the old Roman piers have been found. The exact site of the fort of Pons Aelii has not been ascertained.

From the railway station at Newcastle, the line of the Wall is up Westgate Hill, on the very road itself; and the Vallum ran parallel to it, along the south side of the road, as is shown in a drawing by H. B. Richardson, made in 1848, before the houses were built there. No traces of either are now to be seen.

FIG. 4.—Roman Head, found on Benwell Hill.

In a nurseryman's garden on the right, as I neared Benwell Hill, I noticed a very beautiful head, evidently of Roman workmanship. It was only a mask, with a little drapery hanging from it, and might have served as the keystone of an arch. The laughing eyes looked downwards, the mouth slightly open with a gentle smile, the hair parted in the middle, and brought in waves rather low over the forehead. There was very delicate modelling about the mouth. I went up to the house, and asked to be allowed to make a drawing of this head. The nurseryman's wife told me that her husband's grandfather had dug it up in his ground as well as other Roman treasures. She showed me a tiny Roman altar, no more than a small stone bowl with a foot, in which she said many a Christian baby had been baptized. They used to send over and borrow it for baptisms at the mission opposite. It had been dark in colour once, like the head, but she had scrubbed it till it was quite light.

The fonts of the churches at Haydon Bridge and at Chollerton have both been Roman altars.

So here we have pagan altars adapted to Christian uses, just as we have pagan festivals in the Church's calendar; and pagan marriage and funeral customs, borrowed from Rome, and used in the Christian Church even to the present day.

After sketching the smiling lady, and finding her fascination grow in the process, I continued my way up the hill, until I saw on the right a large reservoir, and on the left three private houses, known as Condercum, Condercum House, and Pendower. Here the road cuts right across the site of the Roman fort of CONDERCUM, the third on the line.

The gardener at Pendower was busy just inside the gate, so I inquired about the Roman remains, and he readily consented to show me what was to be seen. He led me past mighty rhododendrons, in full bloom, to the southern side of the garden, where what was evidently a fine piece of the southern wall of the fort was still standing, some 30 feet long. overgrown with London pride and bluebells, and shadowed by beautiful trees. Part of a lintel lay amongst the stones.

Hearing that I was "walking the Wall," the gardener recommended to me the Temperance Hotel at Matfen, kept by some friends of his, and I made a note of it for future use, and now pass on the recommendation to my readers. Accommodation along the Wall is not too easy to get. Matfen is a very pretty village, 2 miles north of the Wall, at a point 14 miles west of Newcastle.

The gardener pointed out to me, over the dividing fence, the foundations of the little temple in the grounds of Condercum House, to which I next made my way. Here another friendly gardener came to my aid, and I saw the temple at close quarters, with its stone pavement, circular apse, and solemn grouping of yew-trees round the apsidal end. These yews were evidently planted soon after the temple was excavated, some forty years ago. There was a rough stone head of the Sun-god, and there were mill-stones "for the women to grind the sacred corn during the temple-services"—so said my guide. Two altars, which stood in their places at the ends of the apse when the building was uncovered, are now in the Blackgate Museum, Newcastle.

The eastern wall of the fort runs through these grounds. I was told that some of the Roman masonry had been knocked down by soldiers who occupied the house during the recent war, and that it had been very unsatisfactorily replaced by masons.

The family was away, so the gardener let me roam about by myself; and in a sunny meadow sloping down towards the Tyne, I found distinct traces of the suburban buildings of the fort. The Vallum is here recognizable for the first time, towards the south.

And now to return to the road. Hutton says of the Wall in this part: "Its bare stones under my feet are frequently distinguishable from those used for mending the road." But the tarred surface for motor-cars has quite obliterated every sign of the old stones now.

It was getting very hot when I left Condercum, and this same tarred surface made walking rather trying, for in many places it had become soft and sticky with the heat, and not even the path on either side had been left free. At some points the very gutters ran with tar. There was no shade from trees overhead, except at long intervals; it was "the hottest day of the year," as the papers said next day, though as yet it wanted an hour or so of noon. But I trudged on, inspired by my quest, and well knowing that my first day was bound to be my worst day, compelled, as I was, to keep to the hard high road. For 19 miles out of Newcastle the road runs mainly upon the foundations of the Wall.

A steep hill, Benwell Hill, leads down from Condercum to East Denton. It was on this hill that John Wesley, with his step-daughter and grand-children, had a narrow escape from injury or death. The horses took fright, and ran away, dashing through a closed gate as if it had been a cobweb, and then across a corn-field. The little girls were terrified, but Wesley writes: "I told them, 'Nothing will hurt you; do not be afraid'; feeling no more fear or care than if I had been sitting in my study." The horses stopped suddenly, just on the brink of a precipice.

At the bottom of the hill, the road crosses Denton Burn, once a pretty stream, but now dry; I saw only a dirty green puddle in which a dirty brown sparrow was trying to bathe. Just before the burn, on the left, a stile leads to the very first piece of Wall which appears above ground. It is only a few paces south of the road, and has been enclosed by a wooden fence, but a mere fraction of the fence was left; the rest had apparently been stolen for firewood. This piece of Wall is 9½ feet wide. When Hutton saw it, it was 36 feet long, and had an apple-tree growing on it. There is much less left now, and even the dead trunk of the apple-tree has gone.

Mounting the opposite hill, I soon came to Denton Hall, a ghost-haunted old house on the right, built of Wall-stones in 1503 by the monks of Tynemouth, as a summer residence. A few sculptured stones from the Wall are to be seen in the hall. Mrs. Elizabeth Montague, "The Queen of the Blue Stocking," lived there from 1760, and entertained many distinguished guests.

Now I felt that I had at last got beyond Newcastle. The fields were golden with buttercups; the may-trees were masses of pearly white; beneath them the cattle stood drowsily in the heat; and away in the distance the hills south of the Tyne lost themselves in a blue haze.

Opposite Denton Hall, the core of the Wall can be seen, and the Vallum, running along the bottom of the meadow.

CHAPTER VI

WALBOTTLE TO EAST WALLHOUSES

The first indication of a mile-castle I noted in a field on the left, just before reaching the lodge of West Denton House. It was just a daisy-covered mound, as I saw it, with cows lying about on it.

I pushed on up the hill towards Walbottle (A.S. botel, an abode; the abode on the Wall), with the Wall-ditch running alongside. At the top there is a beautiful view across the valley of the Tyne. The painter Martin, a native of Haydon Bridge, is said to have made it the basis of his picture, "The Plains of Heaven."

Walbottle is now an unattractive colliery village, whatever it may have been in Saxon times. There were many colliers about, for the strike was on, and I saw women and children searching in the rubbish at the pit-heads for scraps of coal.

At the Engine Inn at Walbottle I was able to get a bottle of lemonade, and was also plentifully supplied with soap and water in the back-kitchen by the kindly landlady. So I went on my way much refreshed.

Soon I came to Walbottle Dene House, a farm-house on the right, in the front garden of which are the splendid remains of the northern gateway of a mile-castle, the first mile-castle to be seen uncovered. The course of the road was altered here to avoid injury to this mile-castle after it had been excavated. The huge stones can be easily seen by looking over the low garden wall.

Wall-stones appear in the hedge on the right a little farther on; and then comes Walbottle Dene, a steep little ravine, with paths traversing its tree-covered sides, green with ferns and fresh spring foliage, and the Newburn flowing through at the bottom.

In the mining village of Throckley, I saw crowds collected for a funeral. The miners on strike were sitting in rows on the path opposite the house, dressed in their Sunday clothes, to do honour to their neighbour. A late-comer overtook me, and said as he passed: "A hot day." I said: "Yes; I am glad it is fine for your holiday." From that we came to the question of the strike (as I had intended), and the respective claims of the owners and the miners. He told me he had been in every trade you can name, and coal-mining was the worst. I said: "Then why are you in it now?" and he replied: "Because of the pay." He then described to me the unhealthiness and the dangers of a miner's life, and to emphasize it he said: "You should compare what these men are now with what they looked like six weeks ago; why, they are not the same men!" He drew such a vivid picture of the hardships, that I said, in all good faith: "Oh, if only a substitute could be found for coal!" But there I found he did not agree with me at all, any more than the owners would have done.

It is a truism that there must be something wrong with a society in which the workers in a disagreeable and dangerous calling would not have it made less dangerous because the very danger gives them a claim to higher wages. They are used to the danger, and they are used to the wages; they would rather keep both! And who can blame them, things being as they are? Perhaps some day we may reach a condition of society in which every labour-saving device, or danger-averting discovery, will bless the whole of the community, and penalize none. This must surely come about in proportion as we learn to think of mankind as "one body," and to see that if one member suffers, every member is bound to suffer with it.

There can be no real gain through another's loss.

My miner-friend took my remarks very good-temperedly, and joined the groups seated on the ground as soon as we came up to them.

Opposite the Filter-beds at Throckley, I turned off on the left, through an inviting-looking green meadow, and, crossing the Vallum, sat down under some trees to rest. A man and a boy were busy chopping and carting logs of wood in the little plantation near me—another sign of the coal-strike. Soon after returning to the road I saw traces of another mile-castle.

All this time the Wall-ditch can be traced on the right for the greater part of the way, and the Vallum on the left, at varying distances from the road, about 30 to 50 yards. At the top of the hill leading down to Heddon-on-the-Wall, both the Wall-ditch and the Vallum are a delight to the eye which has perhaps hitherto been tempted to see them as monotonous. Both ditches are cut through the sandstone rock. This was a specially good place for testing the shape of the Vallum-ditch, and sections made in 1893 proved it to be flat-bottomed and not V-shaped, just as it was later found to be along its whole length.

A little way down the hill, by climbing into the field on the left, we can see the Wall, 5 or 6 courses high, and, built into it, an interesting circular chamber of unknown use, 7 feet in diameter. The Vallum-ditch is here only 35 yards to the south.

As I entered Heddon, my thoughts began to turn towards refreshment, but the only available place for a meal looked so uninviting that I passed on. It was early-closing day in all the villages I had come through, so no shops had been open after one o'clock, and I had let that hour slip by without knowing what a crucial hour it was.

At Heddon a road turns off on the left, leading to Horsley and Corbridge.

John Wesley was preaching near Horsley in 1755. It was a noted centre of Nonconformity, because it fulfilled the necessary condition for meeting-places (required then by law) of being "more than 5 miles from a parish church."

Wesley writes in his diary:

"Wednesday, 21 May 1755.—I preached at Nafferton, near Horsley, about 13 miles from Newcastle. We rode chiefly on the new western road, which lies on the old Roman Wall. Some part of this is still to be seen, as are the remains of most of the towers, which were built a mile distant from each other, quite from sea to sea. But where are the men of renown who built them, and who once made all the land tremble? Crumbled into dust! Gone hence, to be no more seen, till the earth shall give up her dead!"

The next fort on the line of the Wall is VINDOBALA, and the farm-house of Rudchester stands close to its site.

When I was only a mile from this place a large motor-lorry passed me, going at full speed. To my surprise, it stopped suddenly in front of me, and when I came up to it, the driver kindly offered me a lift. I was indeed sorry to decline. The hill was steep in front of me, and I had already walked about 16 miles, not counting digressions; but in any case I could only have travelled as far as Rudchester, for I did not want to miss seeing Vindobala. And then, I did want to walk every foot of the way, from sea to sea! So I resisted the tempter, though thanking him sincerely, and he was soon out of sight.

The road was very much pleasanter here, shaded by trees or by high green hedges, and with grassy strips to walk upon.

At Rudchester the house and farm-buildings lie a little way off the road, on the left, and are all well to the south of the site of the fort. A lane crosses the road at right-angles, and the entrance to the farm is a little way down this lane. Buoyed up with hopes of tea, I made my way there first; not to the "big house," but to a smaller one, where I found the farm-bailiff (as I suppose) and his sister had just finished their tea. They most kindly asked me in, and the sister said the kettle was boiling, and she could soon "make some fresh." They had only just moved in, and had no idea that there was any special archæological interest attached to the place. When I inquired about the Roman "Station," the sister said: "Would it be Wylam Station ye're wanting?" referring to the nearest railway station, 2 miles to the south. When I had had tea (and how welcome it was!) she took me to the "big house." The master was away, but the housekeeper showed me the drawing-room fireplace, where a centurial stone from the Wall forms what was once the actual hearth on which the fire was kindled. It plainly shows the marks of fire. Now a modern grate has been fitted in above it.

Fig. 5.—Roman Altar found at Rudchester (Vindobala).

Before leaving, I traced the general outlines of the fort. With its southern gateway and ramparts, it can be easily made out, between the farm-buildings and the road, the road itself probably representing its via principalis. The house, farm-buildings and field-fences are mostly built of stones from the Wall and fort. A mediæval pele-tower was the nucleus of the present house.

I took my leave of Rudchester much refreshed, and grateful that my experience had been the exact opposite of old Hutton's, for this is the verse with which he commemorates his visit:

"I saw old Sir at dinner sit,
Who ne'er said, 'Stranger, take a bit,'
Yet might, although a Poet said it,
Have sav'd his beef, and rais'd his credit."

The site of another mile-castle is recognizable by the gate into a field a little farther on; and then comes "The Iron Sign," once an inn, with Roman-inscribed stones built into the front. The old lady who lived here had recently been killed by a passing motor-car, while crossing the road, so I was told.

Harlow Hill then came into sight, and glad I was to see it, for I hoped to spend the night there. It was Hutton's first stage from Newcastle. I had written to the Temperance Hotel there (mentioned by Dr. Bruce), asking if I could have a bed, and enclosing a post-card for reply; and although I had received no answer, at least I had not had an unfavourable one.

The Wall-ditch showed very clearly ahead, running up to Harlow Hill, on the right of the road; and the Vallum, diverging from the road, could be seen on the left.

Arrived at the village, I inquired at once for the Temperance Hotel, only to be told I was several years too late! It had been closed during the war. A day or two later I received my post-card, which had been pursuing me. It bore no signature, and only this sad legend: "No temperance at Harlow Hill."

The hotel, where Hutton had spent one night, was still there, a substantial stone building, but it was now occupied by a private family. I made inquiries from end to end of the village street, but no one could give me a bed, so I found I must walk on a mile or so farther to the next Inn, the "Robin Hood."

Passing the Whittledene Reservoirs, I noticed the houses of Welton (Wall-town), and turned aside to the south for half a mile, to try my chance there.

The road runs along the very brink of the reservoir. Several anglers were seated on the steep banks, very much preoccupied, and their cars were waiting for them in the road.

Welton Hall is pleasantly situated, overlooking the water. It is built entirely of Wall-stones, and the oldest part is a pele-tower. The initials and date—"W.W.—1614"—over the lintel of the back-door, commemorate the building of the more recent portion by Will of Welton, a sort of modern Samson. Sitting outside the tower one day, when old and blind, he called a ploughboy to him, and wanted to feel his arm, to test its strength. The boy, afraid of being hurt, held out the iron plough-coulter instead of his arm, and Will promptly snapped it in two, remarking, "Men's banes are naught but girsels (gristles) to what they were in my day."

A servant-girl was sitting sewing outside the back-door as I drew near. In answer to my inquiry, she said there was no village, only a farm, but I might perhaps get a bed there. Outside the farm-gate was a little group of boys, playing quoits with large rusty iron rings. Inside the yard I found a busy scene. Several women were occupied in painting, beating or cleaning furniture of various kinds, which was all spread out in the farm-yard. One of them was painting a kitchen bench and table Indian red. Very tentatively I made my request.

"Don't ye see that we are busy spring-cleaning?" was the reply, but in no unkindly tone.

Indeed, I did see, only too well; and I also saw, with my mind's eye, another mile and a half of road stretching out before me, and the night coming down, so I beat a retreat as quickly as I could. How tiresome I must have seemed to those busy women!

I passed a pleasant-looking house before reaching the Robin Hood Inn, and, seeing the front door wide open, I walked up the garden, gay with pansies and polyanthus, and knocked. No reply. I went round to the back-door, which was also wide open. Still no reply. So I came away. Then I tried a farm-house. The woman who answered my knock told me she was housekeeper to two old bachelors, one of whom was ill, so she could not help me. Lastly I came to the Robin Hood Inn. An uncompromising notice hung in the front window: "CLOSED;" and a motor-car stood outside the door. However, I knocked, and a girl of about fourteen, very neatly dressed, answered my knock. She told me that their family was so large that they never had a bed to spare; that her sister was ill (it was the doctor's car outside), and they could not possibly take me in. I asked for lemonade or aerated water. No; they had nothing at all. "Well, a glass of plain water?" Yes, I could have that, and welcome. When she returned with it, I inquired how far it was to the next inn. She could only tell me of Matfen, nearly 3 miles away. I had already walked more than 20 miles, not counting the distance covered in my explorations so in desperation I mentioned the house with the open doors, and said: "Do you think the lady of that house would give me a bed?" She brightened up, and answered: "Why, perhaps she would; she's very nice. I'll ask her; she is upstairs helping with my sister." So she came down, and she was very nice. She was, indeed, a good Samaritan, for I hardly felt I could walk much farther. She gave me the kindest welcome, and her husband did the same when he came home and found me enjoying a good supper with his wife. Never did a guest-chamber seem more attractive than hers to me that night. Remember, I had spent the previous night in the train, travelling from London; I had started on my walk at five o'clock that morning, and the walk for a great part of the day had been on an unsheltered high road, and in a temperature of 81° in the shade.

CHAPTER VII

HUNNUM AND ST. OSWALD'S

Next morning I took leave of my kind hostess, and set out again, prepared to take things easily that day.

The Wall-ditch was very deep and clearly marked on my right, planted with trees (chiefly young larch), and carpeted with flowers—primroses, herb bennet, and the purple giant cranesbill. The Vallum also was conspicuous on the other side of the road.

In the garden of the next house, "Wall Houses," apple-blossom, purple and white lilac, and laburnum were all in full beauty, though they had been quite over in the south before I left. It was a sweet fresh morning, and a gentle breeze was sending down showers of apple-blossom over an old lady walking in the garden.

The next house is called "High Wall Houses," and is all that is left of a village of that name. Everywhere it is Wall—Wall—Wall in the place-names—all along the line.

A road on the left leads down to Corbridge, and then for the first time the road begins to be quite overarched by trees, very beautiful and shady, and it continues so for some distance. Almost opposite the road to Matfen are traces of a mile-castle. A little way farther on is Matfen Piers, a small farm-house, with a long piece of the Wall-ditch surrounded by a strong stone wall in front of the house, and planted as an orchard with apple-trees and currant-bushes. It looked as if a stream ran along the bottom in wet weather. Now the apples were in blossom, and there were young lambs frisking amongst the currant-bushes. I went round to the back of the house to ask for a drink of water, but the place seemed deserted. Wild rabbits were playing on the back doorstep. And yet the scraper had been used quite recently. I was puzzled at first to think what it was that gave the house a sort of sophisticated air in front; and then I saw. Several of the inverted cups used on telegraph-posts were stuck up in the pear-tree which grows on the house, and it quite gave the impression of telephonic connection! But they were only traps set for unwary earwigs.

The newly discovered causeways across the ditch of the Vallum called for attention next. They are readily discernible in this region.

Soon after this, gorse began to appear on the mounds of the Vallum. The overhanging trees had ceased, and distant hills to the south of the Tyne had come into view, while the Wall-ditch was again planted with young larch, and this time bright with marsh marigolds. The road runs through the village of Halton Shields, which now consists only of a chapel, a school, a farm-house and two cottages, though in Hutton's time there were twelve houses.

On Carr Hill the mounds and ditch of the Vallum are more striking than ever. A little farther on, a tree-covered mound, known as Down Hill, intervenes between the road and the Vallum, which has evidently made a bend to the south to avoid the hill.

Passing Halton Red House, with its beautiful beds of wallflowers, I began to look out for signs of Halton Chesters, where lies the Roman fort of HUNNUM. A white gate on the left of the road opens on to a lane through a field; the lane is bordered by gnarled and twisted trees, and leads to Halton Tower and the village. This is our indication of the site of the fort, through the midst of which Wade's Road runs, cutting it clean in halves. Having this clue, it is easy to recognize in the pasture to the south of the road the buried gateways and ramparts. The ground to the north was under grass for hay when I was there. When it was being dug up many years ago, the foundations of elaborate buildings were found, and the hypocausts for heating them.

The picturesque Halton Tower, which lies immediately to the south of the fort, is the one remaining tower of the thirteenth-century castle, built of Roman stones from the Wall and the fort. The present owner is evidently a great lover of flowers. There are beautiful rock gardens (with a Roman altar among the rocks) and masses of rock cistus of every colour, especially a rich rose colour which was new to me.

Regaining the road and continuing westward, I soon crossed a lovely little ravine, with a stream flowing along the bottom, and beech-trees arching overhead. Its steep sides were decked with primroses and other flowers of spring.

A little farther on there is an interesting landmark; it is the site of the Portgate, the gateway through the Wall at the point where the famous Roman road running north crossed the line of the defensive barrier. This road used to be called "Watling Street," a name which was arbitrarily and mistakenly conferred on the entire length of Roman road from London to Scotland by archæologists of the eighteenth century. The mediæval and Saxon name was "Dere Street," and this name is correctly given to it for the first time in the 1921-22 edition of the Ordnance Survey.

William of Malmesbury, writing about 1140 A.D., refers to the Portgate, "where there stood a gate in the Wall, as may appeare by the word, that in both languages importeth as much."

A small Inn, the Errington Arms, stands on Dere Street, close to the site of the Portgate. I called here to ask for a glass of milk. There was no one to be seen inside but a postman, who had evidently completed his delivery of letters for the day, and was reclining on the long low window-seat, in a Panama hat and carpet slippers, reading a newspaper, with a glass by his side. I knocked on the table, and a barmaid appeared, who brought my milk, but I found I had no change left, so I was diving into my haversack for a note to change. Meantime the postman had settled his account, and the barmaid had disappeared.

While I drank my milk, the postman talked very pleasantly about the state of the roads, and the weather, and the coal-strike; but when I knocked on the table to summon the barmaid again, he said quietly: "You needn't do that; I told her to take it out of mine, as you hadn't any change." This was my first experience of being "treated" in a public-house! But the way in which it was done only made me feel that it was another proof of the comradeship of the road. So I thanked him, and went on my way rejoicing.

Soon after this I heard and saw my first curlew, a sure sign that I was nearing the moorland; and these beautiful birds, with their sweet whistling note, were my constant companions from this point for many miles onward.

And now I came to a point where both Wallditch and Vallum surpassed themselves in grandeur. Hutton writes with enthusiasm of the Vallum, and is quite poetic in his fervour:

"I climbed over a stone wall to examine the wonder; measured the whole in every direction; surveyed them with surprise, with delight, was fascinated, and unable to proceed; forgot I was upon a wild common, a stranger, and the evening approaching. I had the grandest works under my eye, of the greatest men of the age in which they lived, and of the most eminent nation then existing; all which had suffered but little during the long course of sixteen hundred years. Even hunger and fatigue were lost in the grandeur before me. If a man writes a book upon a turnpike road, he cannot be expected to move quick; but, lost in astonishment, I was not able to move at all."

The effect when I saw it was heightened (if such a thing were possible) by the marvellous clothing of gorse, glorious clusters of gold, as if Nature herself desired to do honour to this great achievement.

From the top of the next hill the Vallum can be seen to perfection, running up the slope of the hill facing us; nowhere is it better. Soon after this, the distant hills come into view, over the tops of which we are to follow the Wall.

Just before reaching the eighteenth milestone, another mile-castle can be very distinctly traced.

Here again the sight of the gorse was something too much for words. The north bank of the Wallditch, which is very high just here, was one blazing mass of gold, facing south, and with the sun full upon it, while primroses and celandine starred the turf at the bottom. I got over the fence and walked along the glacis. The facing-stones were to be seen then on the northern face, several feet high. It may be the dry weather was specially good for the gorse. Certainly the hot sun brought out to perfection the sweet almond scent, and the bees appreciated it as much as I did, droning in and out of the blossoms in their hundreds.

It was simply baking on the road; the time was midday, and there were hardly any trees at all; only the long white road stretched out before me, going up and down, up and down, in straight, relentless lines.

Crossing the road to examine the Vallum near a small plantation of fir-trees, I caught sight of a column of smoke curling up from behind a low gorse bush. Yes, there was no doubt about it; the bush was on fire! It could not have been burning long, but the fire seemed to be spreading rapidly, running along the dry grass, which burned like tinder. I broke off some green elder-boughs from a bush in the ditch, and began to beat the fire, continuing till I had got it under enough to be able to stamp upon it; but it was half an hour before I was satisfied that it was dead. It was by bringing water in my hands from a tiny stream that I finally finished it off.

Nearly at the nineteenth milestone there is another mile-castle. It is just where the hawthorn hedge on the left stops, and a fine row of beeches begins to shadow the road. How welcome their shade was! The view to the south from this spot was glorious. And gorse again! The Vallum was a "Field of the Cloth of Gold," seen against the blue background of the hills to the south of the Tyne.

A little farther on, at St. Oswald's Hill Head, a centurial stone is to be seen, built into the farm-house, on the extreme right, high up near the eaves. It is blacker than the other stones, and not easy to find without directions. The patient daughter of the house saw me, from the window, looking for it, and came out to point to the right one, a kind office she must often have to perform during the summer months.

On a little hill to the north of the road is St. Oswald's Church, supposed to be built on the very spot where Oswald, the Christian king of Bernicia, set up a wooden cross before meeting in battle the Welsh king, Caedwallon, in 635. Bede tells us the story. Holding the cross with both his hands while the earth was thrown in to set it fast, the King cried to his army: "Let us all kneel and jointly beseech the true and living God Almighty, in His mercy to defend us from the haughty and fierce enemy, for He knows we have undertaken a just war for the safety of our nation."

This speech might be taken word for word from a modern newspaper's report of an appeal from the pulpit during the recent war.

Though Oswald had but a small army compared with that of his enemy, yet he won a complete victory.

Bede goes on to say:

"The place in the English tongue is called Heavenfield, or the Heavenly Field, which name it formerly received as a presage of what was afterwards to happen, denoting that there the heavenly trophy would be erected, the heavenly victory begun, and heavenly miracles wrought to this day.

"The same place is near the Wall with which the Romans formerly enclosed the islands from sea to sea, to restrain the fury of the barbarous nations, as has been said before."

The little church presents a very modern appearance now, and there is no necessity to ask for the key, for the whole interior is revealed at a glance—through one window.

As I climbed the hilly field in which it stands, a mother and three children were toiling on ahead of me, three chubby children, with bunches of bluebells, and campions, and buttercups flagging in their hot little hands. They had walked some miles, I found, to lay these wild flowers on a grave behind the church—one of the many customs which we are apt to forget we derive from ancient Rome.

On the south side of the road, opposite St. Oswald's, is a field called Mould's Close, where tradition says that the hottest part of the battle was fought, and where, in witness, the plough has turned up skulls and sword-hilts.

Still farther south is Fallowfield Fell, where there is a series of Roman quarries, and a "written rock." Flavius Carantinus, a quarryman, left his mark there: "PETRA FLAVI CARANTINI." An old woman outside a cottage directed me where to find the rock, telling me it was near some "old wawkins." The Northumbrian country people so often elide the letter "r" and the final "g." One man puzzled me very much by talking about the "'Omans;" not till I had been listening to him for five minutes did I realize that he meant the Romans!

I found the old coal shaft, but I had some difficulty in finding the stone, and when found it was hardly decipherable. So many other people had wanted to claim the stone of Flavius, for no other reason than because he had claimed it, and had written their names beside his, when there were any number of unclaimed stones to be had! Well, that's the way of the world, I suppose; the way of the spoilt child, who only waits to see his brother pick up a pebble, and then wails: "I wanted that."

However, it was worth anything to have come; the outlook is so beautiful from Fallowfield Fell; and the beautiful name suits it. It is a wide heathery expanse, flecked by cloud-shadows, as I saw it, and sloping steeply down towards Hexham and the Abbey, which lie, tree-surrounded, at the foot of the Fell. And beyond the Tyne, hill upon hill recede into the distance as far as the eye can follow.

CHAPTER VIII

BRUNTON AND THE ROMAN BRIDGE

Returning to the road, the next landmark I saw was a mile-castle, just visible by a field-gate on the right. Black Pasture Quarry is also on the right. Here the Romans obtained much of their sandstone for the Wall, and for the Roman bridge at Chesters. Now there are mountains of broken fragments, covered more or less with a grassy growth, and shadowed by large trees, with paths winding in and out. It is a queer-looking place altogether, and worth a visit.

Just about here the Wall crosses the road from right to left; and before we reach the twentieth milestone, a good strip of it is seen in a field on the left belonging to Plane-trees Farm. Some of the facing-stones are still in place, but it does not look as if they could long remain so, for thorn-trees, with gnarled and twisted stems, are growing along the top, thrusting their great sinewy roots between the stones, and pulling the Wall to pieces. This is the piece of Wall which, in 1801, just before Hutton passed, was 224 yards long and 7½ feet high. He saw it being taken down to build a farm-house. His tears and entreaties prevailed to save the next piece on our road—so says local tradition. This is in the grounds of Brunton House, hidden in trees and shrubberies on the left. I applied at the house for permission to see the Wall, and the little maid who came to the door said pleasantly, "Oh yes, you can see it; but there's really nothing to see!" Her conception of "nothing" was evidently quite different from mine, for I found a great deal to see. First, there was the Wall-ditch, which is very bold in its proportions. It was full of rhododendrons, azaleas, and forget-me-nots. The path leads through a wicket-gate right into and along the ditch, and brings us to the Wall. It is a magnificent piece of Wall! It is 7 feet high, with nine courses of facing-stones in place on both sides, and it must be 60 feet long at least. Yew-trees, hawthorns, oaks and nut-stubs are growing on the top. Two altars lean against the north face. I climbed the Wall, with religious care not to disturb a stone, and found myself standing above the first turret we have come to, and perhaps the finest there is to see. It is 12½ feet by 11½ feet in plan. Its north wall is eleven courses high, rising to a height of 8½ feet. It was so smothered in nettles that I could not examine it at all closely, but I could see in what excellent preservation the stone-work still is. Jumping down into the adjoining meadow, I followed the Wall, till it ended abruptly at the angle of the grounds; but I could see that it was making straight for the Roman bridge at Chesters, striking boldly away from the high road for the first time since Newcastle. I followed its course to the bottom of the meadow, then through the field gate, and across the road leading to Hexham, into the meadows opposite, and so to the railway line. A short distance beyond the railway the Wall joins the Roman bridge, which passed over the North Tyne, and led straight to the fort of Cilurnum. The remains of the Roman bridge are fenced in, to protect them from rough usage, but the defences are not impregnable; there are many gaps in the hawthorn hedge. Just inside the hedge the Wall is seen joining the stone abutment of the bridge, having here a width of over 6 feet. It ends in a square tower on the abutment, a tower rather larger than an ordinary wall turret.

Dr. Bruce calls this bridge "the most remarkable feature on the whole line of the Wall," and it is wonderful, though I confess I was disappointed with it at first for not presenting greater possibilities for a picture. Trees and plants had so grown up round it that when I first saw it it looked smothered, but in preparation for the Pilgrimage of the Archæological Societies, the scythe was very busy in September 1920, and it has since been more visible.

Fig. 6.—Plan of Roman Bridge over the North Tyne, near Chesters,
showing how the Great Wall joined it. (After Clayton.)
A pier of the earlier bridge is seen embedded in the masonry of the later one.

Stukeley, who travelled along the Wall in 1725, speaks of "a wonderful bridge of great art, made with very large stones, linked together with iron cramps fastened with molten lead." Hutton does not appear to have taken the trouble to turn aside to look for it, but kept straight on across the bridge at Chollerford. Until 1860 the remains were completely buried in silt from the river, but were then excavated by Mr. John Clayton, "of happy memory."

There are remains of two bridges. The first was much narrower than the later one, only about half as wide. The later one was wide enough to take the Military Way (normally 18 to 20 feet). Both bridges rested on stone piers in the bed of the stream, and it is from the remains of these piers that the width of each bridge can be ascertained. They have pointed ends, technically known as "starlings." The earlier piers were pointed at both ends; the later ones only at the up-stream end. There were three piers to the later bridge, thus leaving four water-openings. One theory is that the course of the river changed between the building of these two bridges, and so necessitated a reconstruction, the earlier bridge being possibly Hadrian's, and the later one constructed by Severus when he repaired the Wall. This would assume that the river had altered its course a great deal in the ninety years between Hadrian and Severus.

Another theory ascribes the original bridge to Agricola, on the supposition that he built the first fort at Chesters, where some pottery, which appears to be of earlier date than Hadrian, has been found. In any case this earlier bridge was built before the Wall was thought of.

Mr. F. G. Simpson's suggestion is that it may have been part of Hadrian's original scheme of Forts and Vallum (or "Boundary"). With the building of the Wall the bridge would have to become "defensive," and it would be necessary to make the water-passage as short as possible. It would no longer be a matter of indifference, as when it merely served as a passage-way and a boundary-line. Hence the very massive later abutments, to narrow the width of the river-passage; and this would sufficiently account for the fact that one of the water-piers of the older bridge is embedded in the masonry of the east land abutment of the later one.

The course of the river has changed since Roman times; it has swerved to the west, so that the western abutment is quite under water, and the eastern one is high and dry, and separated from the river by quite a mountain of silt, overgrown with grass and trees.

The stones of which the abutments are built are very massive, one of them measuring nearly 5 feet in length. They must have been brought from the Black Pasture Quarry. Many of them have lewis-holes in them, for lifting; some of the holes have been filled up with cement. The earlier parts have no lewis-holes in the stones, which were evidently put in position by hand.

A continuous iron cramp follows the outline of the abutment where it faces the river, being anchored inward by iron bars.

That Severus did repair the bridge there is little doubt, for the feather-broaching which is characteristic of his period is to be seen on some of the stones.

One of Trajan's coins shows a bridge with wooden arches. The later bridge may have been like this, or they may both have been flat wooden platform bridges. It is clear that some means of closing each of the four water-openings by a kind of portcullis would be necessary to prevent the passage of an enemy when the stream was low. In times of "spate," these portcullises would have to be raised. A peculiar barrel-shaped stone, 4 feet long, lying amongst the ruins, with holes all round for the insertion of spokes, may have served as a counterpoise in the process of raising; and two round stone pillars, the remains of which also lie there, might have taken a part in the same scheme. In Cumberland such a water-gate is called a "heck."

Fig. 7.—Section of a stone (S) with a lewis-hole, showing the method of lifting by means of a lewis.
The two wedge-shaped pieces of iron, A, A, are first inserted in the hole, and the third piece, B,
is then placed between them. The pin of the lifting-tackle, C, is then passed through all three pieces.

Remains of piers similar to these at Chesters have been found at Corbridge, where the Roman bridge over the Tyne was about 462 feet long, with eleven waterways, as compared with the four waterways and 184 feet of length between the abutments here on the North Tyne.

The waters of the North Tyne were very "low and placid" that day, as Dr. Bruce says they must be if the piers in the middle of the stream are to be seen. They also looked very cool and inviting; and so I soon found myself in the middle of the stream searching for the piers.

There they were, both of them, just where they were sunk eighteen hundred years ago, with their pointed ends facing up-stream, to cleave a parting through the swirling waters when the river "came down."

Then I searched for the western abutment, and finally landed on the Chesters side of the river, intending to link up the bridge with the fortifications there. But here I was on Chesters ground, and I had not paid my sixpence! Visions of tea at the George also began to rise before me, so conscience and inclination for once pulling in the same direction, I put on my shoes and stockings and made tracks for the George. I went along the west bank of the river, and so passed the old mill-house, partly built of Roman stones, with a Roman altar built into a wall in the mill-yard, and a large Roman mortar standing by its back-door.