Brown, meanwhile, proceeded northward at a round pace along the
moorish tract called the Waste of Cumberland. He passed a solitary
house, towards which the horseman who preceded him had apparently
turned up, for his horse's tread was. evident in that direction. A
little farther, he seemed to have returned again into the road. Mr.
Dinmont had probably made a visit there either of business or
pleasure--I wish, thought Brown, the good farmer had staid till I
came up; I should not have been sorry to ask him a few questions
about the road, which seems to grow wilder and wilder.
In truth, nature, as if she had designed this tract of country to
be the barrier between two hostile nations, has stamped upon it n
character of wildness and desolation. The hills are neither high
nor rocky, but the land is all heath and morass; the huts poor and
mean, and at a great distance front each o,. her. Immediately
around, them there is generally some little attempt at cultivation;
but a half-bred foal or two, straggling about with shackles on
their hind legs, to save the trouble of enclosures, intimate the
farmer's chief resource to be the breeding of horses. The people,
too, are of a ruder and more inhospitable class than are elsewhere
to be found in Cumberland arising partly from their own habits,
partly from their intermixture with vagrants and criminals, who
make this wild country a refuge from justice.
So much were the men of these districts in early times the objects
of suspicion and dislike to their more polished neighbours, that
there was, and perhaps still exists, a by-law of the corporation of
Newcastle, prohibiting any freeman of that city to take for
apprentice a native of certain of these dales. It is pithily said,
"Give a dog an ill name and hang him;" and it may be added, if you
give a man, or race of men, an ill name, they are. very likely to
do something that deserves hanging. Of this Brown had heard
something, and suspected more, from the discourse between the
landlady, Dinmont, and the gipsy; but he was naturally of a
fearless disposition, had nothing about him that could tempt the
spoiler, and trusted to get through the Waste with daylight. In
this, last particular, however, he was likely to be disappointed.
The way proved longer than he had anticipated, and the horizon
began to grow gloomy, just as he entered upon an extensive morass.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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