pressive in its ruin and like the others shows signs of having been used for defensive purposes long since the time of the original garrison. One of the rooms was converted into a kiln where some borderer dried the grain which he grew or stole. And if we cross to the line of the great wall we see there the northern gate opening towards the quarter whence the danger came. Even in ruin it appears of unusual strength and massiveness, having two passage ways contrived to render entrance difficult to a stranger and an enemy. That it was much used we can still see by the worn condition of the sill, the stone being deeply worn by the tread of numerous feet. The eastern gate shows deeply worn wheel-ruts, and the sight of these evidences of the Past affects the mind deeply: more so at times than imposing relics.

There is something saddening withal in the scene as we stroll across the grass-grown inclosure, tracing the lines of streets, the site of the Mithraic cave, looking at the fragments of masonry, the broken columns, the remains of buildings that denote the ancient importance of Borcovicus. In the centre where the four roads met, lies the base of a square pillar which was doubtless a conspicuous ornament. Near by stood the temple; on the northern side remains part of the walls of a building that was seventy feet long but narrow, the width not more than eight. Here in this wild region was imitated the magnificence that burdened the Seven Hills on the banks of the Tiber. Outside there are traces of considerable suburbs, and of terraces, supposed to have been levelled for cultivation. Now all is lonely, and the only building is a shepherd's cot near the southern gate. Water was supplied by three wells and the burn, all outside the walls.

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It is only within the past five or six years that the northern gate has been laid bare, and great attention paid to prevent the remains from falling into further neglect by the care of Mr. Clayton-a name wellknown and respected in the region overlooked by Warden Hill. The Duke of Northumberland too, has established a claim to the gratitude of antiquaries, by his publication of the survey of the whole line of the wall, made at his cost by Mr. Maclauchlan.

Housesteads lies on the rise of the ground to the west of the Gap. Farther west the crags reappear, an irregular range in places full three hundred feet high, with the appearance of having been at one time the cliffs of the sea. The wall still runs along their edge, following all the ins and outs and ups and downs, showing in places eight or nine courses of stones; and so it continues passing three or four large lakes, to the end of the crags at Carvorran. It would be an interesting walk; but for the present I am allured in another direction.

CHAPTER XXVI.

Grindon Lough-Looking back at the Wall-Haydon Bridge-Langley Castle Cartsbog-A rustic Hostelry-Musical Smelters-Stawardle-Peel-Charming Prospect-Glorious Sunshine-Zigzags-The Allen -Whitfield-Blueback-Up to the Moors-Hoot awa' lads!—A Martyr-Haltwhistle-The Wall again-Antediluvian BoringsWater-course for Æsica-Carvorran-The Farmer's Antiques-Greenhead-Thirlwall-The Tipalt-Mumps' Hall-The Irthing-Gilsland -A Glen-The Spa-The Sulphureous Cliff-Reminiscences of Guy Mannering-Scott and his Bride-The Waste-Brampton-Where do you come from ?-A Professor.

THE sun was falling towards the west when I turned my back on Housesteads, and descending the great slope, shaped a course across the broad pastures, and by Grindon Lough, for Haydon Bridge-about six miles distant. When I looked back at the bold height of the ridge, extending league after league in irregular line, I was more than ever impressed by the magnitude of the wall. Singularly striking must it have appeared, rising there against the sky, with all its camps, castles, and turrets complete; as much a defence against a foe approaching from the south, as from the north. From that elevation the Romans could overlook half the county.

From the pastures I descended by a lane into the Vale of Tyne, and passed through the town, having planned an excursion into the valley of the Allen, to look at the scenes which I had missed on my entry

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into Northumberland. If all go well we shall get another peep at the Wall to-morrow; meanwhile the détour gives good promise of enjoyment.

There was the long steep hill to ascend down which I had walked in the twilight three weeks before: it is getting towards twilight now, but we can see Langley Castle, and the farmer who inhabits it grants ready admittance. One of his lads mounted with me to the roof, from which the form of the building, four massive square towers, connected by the walls of the inner court, is well made out. The inside is bare and empty, and blackened in places by fire. It was built about 1350; belonged once to the Percys; then to the Ratcliffes, and was granted with the other estates of the Earl of Derwentwater to Greenwich Hospital. It was amusing to hear the way in which the lad spoke of the hospital; he might have been a Hindoo talking of John Company; for it was to him a mighty entity. The Hospital took the rents; the Hospital did the repairs; the Hospital sometimes put in drains; the Hospital didn't object to people coming in to see the place, and so forth. And he himself is very willing to show you some of the rooms as you descend the broad winding stair; and the three tiers of arches in the inner wall of the court, which, by the way, are curiously constructed, being open chimney-wise at the back, from the top to the ground.

From the castle a path leads us across fields and through a plantation on the brow of the hill, whence we can look down on the ruin, and the broad Vale of Tyne, and see the sunset twinkling in the distant panes of Haydon Bridge. And beyond, the line of the Wall is within view. A little farther, and I turned to the right at Langley Smelt Mills, along the Alston Road, hoping to

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get to Staward-le-Peel before dusk. But the evening deepened, and the small hill-fortress was still half an hour distant when I looked about for a resting-place; and contrary to expectation found quarters in a small public-house that stands by the roadside on a spot named Cartsbog. The hostess looked at me, thought I "looked respectable," and said she would contrive to make me up a bed: no other public-house within miles. Her daughter set cheerfully to work, and ere long my tea was ready, with collops of mutton and good bread and butter, and a pot of jelly; and while I ate the hostess sat and talked, and told me how that she had lived for years on sundry farms in the neighbourhood with her husband, doing pretty well; but as their family grew up thought they would like to try to better themselves, and so took the public-house, and rented a field or two adjoining. She hoped it would answer; they had not had much experience of taking in lodgers; but didn't like to turn away a respectable person, that is, if they could only make him comfortable. Her husband worked very hard, poor man, and tended his own fields when he came in from his day's work. "That's him there a-mowing: he mows a bit every evening, and I help the children turn it over and make the hay o' day-times. Their customers were mostly miners and men from the lead-works: a rough lot some of 'em; but some civil enough, and it was surprising to hear how sensible they could sit and talk, and sing too; some of 'em were beautiful singers, and they had a band o' music and practised regular."

In return I told her of what befel me at Allentown on the day of Stagshaw Bank Fair, and thereby surprised the good woman not a little. What could the people mean? turning away a respectable person from