The gardener showed me the way from the back of the summer-house, through woods that sloped down to the Cam Beck, to a little bridge that crossed the stream and led me out of the grounds. And so I came to Cambeck Hill Farm, which lies on the line of the Wall. But I was not satisfied till I had traced the Wall back eastward through the fields to the edge of the Cam Beck opposite the place where I had failed to cross. The view from this side is most striking, with the red sandstone walls, and the steep steps of the weir. I was very glad I had not missed it. A Roman altar from Castlesteads was built into this weir for a time, but some one put in a plea for it, and it was rescued. The field gate which leads to the river is in the Wall-ditch, which at this point is cut deep out of the sandstone. I tried to make the crossing from this side, but it was impossible. It made it no easier that the wet sandstone was _soft_, as well as slippery, and crumbled away under one's feet. {186} The next farm-house to Cambeck Hill is Beck, which is partly built of Roman stones. A wooden foot-bridge over a beck is crossed just before the farm is reached. Beyond Beck is Headswood, which stands high up on a grassy knoll. The Wall-ditch and the Vallum-ditch can be clearly seen from Beck, running up this grassy knoll, one to the right, and the other to the left, of the farm and farm-buildings of Headswood. Two or three minutes' walk and a short climb brought me into the farm-yard, where a part of the Wall-ditch is used as a duck-pond. Just in front of the farm-buildings it has been filled up level with the ground, for the convenience of traffic. A short distance beyond Headswood I found the Wall itself again with me. The village of Newtown of Irthington soon came into sight. It has a village green with a large pond. Its white-washed cottages stand on three sides of this green, on which battalions of ducks and geese were pluming themselves. For the short distance between Newtown and White Flat, the "pilgrim of the Wall" must leave the fields and follow the road towards Irthington. On the left of the road, traces of a mile-castle are visible. Beyond White Flat the fields are ploughed, but the ditch could be faintly discerned. The path {187} now ran through a meadow gay with wild flowers, but there was more food for the botanist than for the antiquarian. My thoughts were beginning to turn to another kind of food, for it was after five o'clock, and it seemed a long time since I was at Low Wall, though actually it was only three miles as the crow flies. I saw a substantial farm-house on my right, so I turned off in hopes of getting at least some milk. My hopes were super-abundantly realized. The farmer and his wife were on the point of sitting down to tea themselves, having just driven back from Carlisle, and with true northern hospitality they invited me to share their meal. I shall not soon forget that visit, and the kindness shown to a pilgrim.