for he began to flag very much, answered each application of the spur
with a groan, and stumbled at every stone (and they were not few) which
lay in his road.
Mannering now grew impatient. He was occasionally betrayed into a
deceitful hope that the end of his journey was near by the apparition
of a twinkling light or two; but, as he came up, he was disappointed to
find that the gleams proceeded from some of those farm-houses which
occasionally ornamented the surface of the extensive bog. At length, to
complete his perplexity, he arrived at a place where the road divided
into two. If there had been light to consult the relics of a
finger-post which stood there, it would have been of little avail, as,
according to the good custom of North Britain, the inscription had been
defaced shortly after its erection. Our adventurer was therefore
compelled, like a knight-errant of old, to trust to the sagacity of his
horse, which, without any demur, chose the left-hand path, and seemed
to proceed at a somewhat livelier pace than before, affording thereby a
hope that he knew he was drawing near to his quarters for the evening.
This hope, however, was not speedily accomplished, and Mannering, whose
impatience made every furlong seem three, began to think that
Kippletringan was actually retreating before him in proportion to his
advance.
It was now very cloudy, although the stars from time to time shed a
twinkling and uncertain light. Hitherto nothing had broken the silence
around him but the deep cry of the bog-blitter, or bull-of-the-bog, a
large species of bittern, and the sighs of the wind as it passed along
the dreary morass. To these was now joined the distant roar of the
ocean, towards which the traveller seemed to be fast approaching. This
was no circumstance to make his mind easy. Many of the roads in that
country lay along the sea-beach, and were liable to be flooded by the
tides, which rise with great height, and advance with extreme rapidity.
Others were intersected with creeks and small inlets, which it was only
safe to pass at particular times of the tide. Neither circumstance
would have suited a dark night, a fatigued horse, and a traveller
ignorant of his road. Mannering resolved, therefore, definitively to
halt for the night at the first inhabited place, however poor, he might
chance to reach, unless he could procure a guide to this unlucky
village of Kippletringan.
A miserable hut gave him an opportunity to execute his purpose. He
found out the door with no small difficulty, and for some time knocked
without producing any other answer than a duet between a female and a
cur-dog, the latter yelping as if he would have barked his heart out,
the other screaming in chorus. By degrees the human tones predominated;
but the angry bark of the cur being at the instant changed into a howl,
it is probable something more than fair strength of lungs had
contributed to the ascendency.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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