Northumberland And the Border

e Ballad of the Luck. Two hours later I had left Penrith, and was on the way to Edenhall, when a respectable-looking labourer, who had his best suit on, and carried a carpet-bag in his hand, touched my knapsack and accosted me with " So ye're carryin'tea." Not tea! What was it then ? Having pondered awhile, he tried again with " It '11 be patterns ? " A Cumbrian of the old school, such as he seemed aged enough to be, should have used the old Cumbrian word for patterns?swatches. But he didn't; and his guess being wrong, he guessed again and again, as perseveringly as the Yankee did who tried to guess what it was had bitten the sailor's leg off. Meanwhile I questioned him, and his answer was that he had been a fortnight at Shap Wells, drinking the water and bathing, for the benefit of his health, and found that which he sought, and was now going to his home at Garrigill, a village near Alston. I congratulated him on the cure which enabled him, a sexagenarian, to undertake a walk of thirty miles burdened with a bag. " The water," he said, " tastes o'A DEBATE AT THE LODGE. 19 gunpowder; but it does folk good ; and Shap 's a place that suits a poor man's pocket." Haying guessed in vain, he begged me to tell him what I carried. " Shirts." He stood still in the middle of the road, and examined me curiously for a minute or two; shook his head, and asked, " And what d'ye carry shirts for ? " " To wear." He took another look at me, and would perhaps have m...