"He is indeed," says Southey, "a remarkable man, and well deserving to be remembered. Mr. Telford found him a working mason, who could scarcely read or write. But his good sense, his excellent conduct, his steadiness and perseverance have been such, that he has been gradually raised to be Inspector of all these Highland roads which we have visited, and all of which are under the Commissioners' care --an office requiring a rare union of qualities, among others inflexible integrity, a fearless temper, and an indefatigable frame. Perhaps no man ever possessed these requisites in greater perfection than John Mitchell. Were but his figure less Tartarish and more gaunt, he would be the very 'Talus' of Spenser. Neither frown nor favour, in the course of fifteen years, have ever made him swerve from the fair performance of his duty, though the lairds with whom he has to deal have omitted no means of making him enter into their views, and to do things or leave them undone, as might suit their humour or interest. They have attempted to cajole and to intimidate him alike in vain. They have repeatedly preferred complaints against him in the hope of getting him removed from his office, and a more flexible person appointed in his stead; and they have not unfrequently threatened him with personal violence. Even his life has been menaced. But Mitchell holds right on. In the midst of his most laborious life, he has laboured to improve himself with such success, that he has become a good accountant, makes his estimates with facility, and carries on his official correspondence in an able and highly intelligent manner. In the execution of his office he travelled last year not less than 8800 miles, and every year he travels nearly as much. Nor has this life, and the exposure to all winds and weathers, and the temptations either of company or of solicitude at the houses at which he puts up, led him into any irregularities. Neither has his elevation in the slightest degree inflated him. He is still the same temperate, industrious, modest, unassuming man, as when his good qualities first attracted Mr. Telford's notice." Southey concludes his journal at Longtown, a little town just across the Scotch Border, in the following words:-- "Here we left Mr. Telford, who takes the mail for Edinburgh. This parting company, after the thorough intimacy which a long journey produces between fellow-travellers who like each other, is a melancholy thing. A man more heartily to be liked, more worthy to be esteemed and admired, I have never fallen in with; and therefore it is painful to think how little likely it is that I shall ever see much of him again,--how certain that I shall never see so much. Yet I trust that he will not forget his promise of one day making Keswick in his way to and from Scotland."