I was sitting painting here one day when the river was very dry; the stones showed me much more of themselves than I wanted to see. I said to myself: "I do wish the river would fill up a little." Almost immediately after, I looked up, and it had filled up a little, just about enough to suit my purpose. I hardly had time to be thankful before it had risen a good deal more than enough, and in a very short time there was not a stone to be seen. This was indeed too much of a good thing! I realized that the river had "come down," as they {98} call it. It was now rushing madly along, getting very brown and frothy, and boughs of trees were beginning to be borne along on its current. When I went home to lunch, I met a dead sheep being carried along, and at the _George_ they told me that Barrasford Ferry was impassable. Haughton Castle had telephoned to say so, and to ask to have its friends coming by rail stopped at Humshaugh Station. No wonder ardent fishers are warned to be careful when fishing in these northern streams. Another day, when I was painting here and the stream was fairly low, I was entertained by the antics of a merry party of girls. They kept crossing and recrossing the river by means of very inadequate stepping-stones, and at last two of them tumbled in. They made no trouble of it, but took off their pink cotton frocks and hung them up in a tree to dry, put on their waterproofs, and went off to view the fort. Meantime the cows came down to the river to drink, and, curious as cows always are, they began licking the dresses until at last they licked them off the tree. I on my side of the stream was powerless to help. Finally they went off, leaving the dresses in a huddled heap of pink, and wetter than ever, I should think. I was only thankful that they had not shared the fate of a blue woollen motor-scarf on the banks of the Dee, which was hung over the back of a car by its owner while {99} she went fishing. She returned to see the last six inches disappearing down the throat of a cow! She was left frivolously wondering whether, in its new sphere of influence, it would turn the milk blue. * * * * * * * One more word about Cilurnum. In the church at Chollerton, about 1½ miles up the North Tyne from Chollerford, the columns of the south side of the nave bear evidence of Roman origin, and no one who is following the Wall should miss seeing them. They are round columns, each consisting of a single stone, and are of the same diameter and general character as portions of shafts found at Cilurnum. It is more than likely that they were stolen from the ruined fort to occupy their present position, and that to this they owe their perfect preservation. {100} CHAPTER X WALWICK TO SEWINGSHIELDS