"I'm glad we're out o' that moss," said Dinmont, "where there's mair stables for horses than change-houses for men--we have the Maiden-way to help us now, at ony rate." Accordingly, they speedily gained a sort of rugged causeway so called, being the remains of an old Roman road which traverses these wild regions in a due northerly direction. Here they got on at the rate o nine or ten miles an hour, Dumple seeking no other respite than what arose from changing his pace from canter to trot. "I could gar him show mair action," said his master, "but we are twa lang-legged chields after a' and it would be a pity to stress Dumple--there wasna the like o' him at Staneshiebank fair the day." Brown readily assented to the propriety of sparing the horse, and added, that as they were now far out of the reach of the rogues he thought Mr. Dinmont had better tie a handkerchief round his head, for fear of the cold frosty air aggravating the wound. "What would I do that for?" answered the hardy farmer; "the best way's to let the blood barken [*Encrust] upon the cut--that saves plasters, hinney." Brown, who in his military profession had seen a great many hard blows pass, could not help remarking, "he had never known such severe strokes received with so much apparent indifference." "Hout tout, man--I would never be making a humdudgeon [*Fuss] about a scart on the pow-but we'll be in Scotland in five minutes now, and ye maun gang up to Charlies-hope wi' me, that's a clear case." Brown readily accepted the offered hospitality. Night was now falling, when they came in sight of a pretty river winding its way through a pastoral country. The hills were greener and more abrupt than those which Brown had lately passed, sinking their grassy sides, at once upon the river. They had no pretensions to magnificence of height, or to romantic shapes, nor did their smooth swelling slopes exhibit either rocks or woods. Yet the view was wild, solitary, and pleasingly rural. No enclosures, no roads, almost no tillage--it seemed a land which a patriarch would have chosen to feed his flocks and herds. The remains of here and there a dismantled and ruined tower, showed that it had once harboured beings of a very different description from its present inhabitants; those free-booters, namely, to whose exploits the wars between England and Scotland bear witness. Descending by. a path towards a well-known ford, Dumple crossed the small river, and then quickening his pace, trotted about a mile briskly up its banks, and approached two or three low thatched, houses, placed with their angles to each other, with a great contempt of regularity. This was the farm-steading of Charlies-hope, or, in the language of the country, "the Town." A most furious barking was set up at their approach, by the whole three generations of Mustard and Pepper, and a number of allies, names unknown. The farmer made his well-known voice lustily heard to restore order--the door opened, and a