a black-faced ram, which he had just hewn from the carcass, saying:
“There’s a pictur!”
“Yes,” I quietly observed, “that would please Sir Edwin Landseer.”
“O, your friend, yonder!” he exclaimed. “He shall see it,” and rushing to my unconscious companion, shoved the black and gory trophy under his nose, with a suddenness that well-nigh had the effect of a Medusa’s head upon him, exclaiming:
“There, Sir Edwin! match me that, if you can!”
The Corbridge folk are not possessed of much deference, especially the boys: the latter, whereever we turned, hailed us as the “strange men.” While I was drawing the interior of the tower, which is roofless, I was fairly bombarded by the boys on the outside of the door, which I had secured, with volleys of stones; and when I remonstrated, saying it was very uncivil treatment of a stranger, their spokesman up and said:
“Hoot, aye! we ken nout about civility here; we’re real bad uns, we are!”
Next morning, when at the same task, I saw the large eyes of a brat glowering through a loop-hole, and, after a long silent stare, I heard his wooden clogs clattering over the pavement, he calling: “Eh! they’ve getten the strange man in the lock-up, now!”
It appears the tower is occasionally used as a cage for offenders, but I was told they mostly let themselves out.
We now wended on our way to Hexham, as I was desirous of showing my companion the stately Abbey church and its Saxon crypt constructed of Roman stones, some of them bearing Roman inscriptions. The day after our arrival, being Sunday, we were setting out in order to attend Divine Service, when the handmaiden, who waited on us at the hostel of the White Hart, inquired what we would take for dinner, and volunteered the recommendation of a fool and bacon, at which H——, who had not yet overcome the dialect, looked disconcerted till I explained that a fowl was meant.
Fortified Vicarage in the Churchyard at Corbridge.
Next day we devoted to a survey of the antiquities of the place, to describe which would require more space than I can here command; but I cannot quit Hexham without mention of an odd illustration of the proverbial inch given and ell taken. In scrambling among some pigsties, that we might get a better view of part of the Abbey church, I was struck by the complacent grunt of a fat hog, in full enjoyment of his dolce far niente, and remarked to his owner, who looked on with the satisfied look of one who beholds a prospect of fat bacon, “Your pig is a true gentleman; he has nothing to do, and he does it.” H—— told me after that the man had said to him, aside, “Sir, your friend made a remarkable observation—particler. He said ma pig was a gentleman, for he had nothing to do, and he didn’t even do that.” Leaving Hexham, we turned back and took up the line of the Wall, where we had left it, at Portgate, and submitted our steps to its guidance. In the plantations on the hill, after passing the seventeenth milestone, the works appear in great boldness, and, just before reaching the eighteenth milestone, we observed the remains of a Mile Castle. And now we began to descend the hill towards the north Tyne, and reached St. Oswald’s Chapel. In a field near to the chapel, called Molds Close, a quantity of bones and fragments of weapons have been turned up, from time to time. According to tradition, a fight was won here, after which England rose in greatness and prosperity; but when another battle shall be won on the same field, her decline will as surely ensue. This prophecy is supposed to have a vague reference to the battle in which King Oswald first raised the standard of the Cross, and vanquished the fierce British chief Cadwallon. In commemoration of this event the convent of Hexham erected the chapel in honour of St. Cuthbert; and the canonised saint Bede, who calls this fight the battle of Heavensfield, says it was fought just north of the Roman wall, and informs us that “It was a custom continued a good while before his time, for the monks of Hagulstad (Hexham), who lived near that place, to go thither every year, on the day before that of his death, and there to say vigils for the health of his soul, and the morning after to offer the sacrifice of the holy oblation, with lauds to him.” A large silver coin or medal of Oswald was found on repairing the chapel. In the grounds of Brunton, still lower down the hill, a remarkably fine fragment of the wall appears. It is seven feet high, and contains nine courses of facing stones entire. At Chollerford, the North Tyne was crossed by a bridge, the remains of which are now in process of excavation, and present a striking example of Roman masonry, being of a very massive character, and finely wrought and jointed. Approaching the bridge from the east, the works are quite perceptible. On the west bank of the river is Walwick Chesters, identified with the Roman Silurnum. Here we look down upon the ground plan of a Roman station, with its narrow streets, at right lines, as we might look upon a plan drawn out upon paper. The station contains an area of upwards of six acres; it is of the customary parallelogram form, the corners being slightly rounded. Between the station and the river are the traces of
