Autobiographical Notes. 173 



miles. Here I had to reckon with my host, for my funds were 

 now reduced to Is 8d. The result was I bargained in a third- 

 rate inn for refreshment and a bed for a shilling. I went out and 

 bought a twopenny loaf, and got a glass of spirits, with which I 

 soaked it, for provender for the next day's journey. This plan 

 was recommended to me by Mr Gordon, then minister of my 

 native parish, and was often practised by himself, as he was a 

 great pedestrian. I went early to bed, resolved to start betimes 

 next morning. After enjoying a sound sleep I was awakened by 

 the blowing of a horn as if of a mail coach. Up I rose instanter, 

 dressed, and sallied forth. I saw light in the house, as also in 

 some neighbouring houses, when I got out, and though it was 

 raining hard I congratulated myself on my early start. The 

 night, or morning as I believed, was gloomy and dismal ; the rain 

 fell in torrents, and the road, which at some places I could 

 scarcely discern, was overflown with water. I became anxious 

 and nervous. At length, at a distance of three or four miles, I 

 came to a hamlet consisting of a few houses. I stood to consider 

 what was best to be done. I knocked at one of the doors, and 

 after much delay a man's voice was heard demanding what I 

 wanted. I ingenuously told him my simple story, that I was a 

 student, and how on hearing a mail coach pass I had left my inn, 

 thinking it was the Dumfries Mail at six o'clock in the morning. 

 He pointed out my error to my dreadful mortification, and said it 

 had been the Carlisle Mail on its way to Glasgow at eleven 

 o'clock. I confessed my mistake and prayed him to give me 

 shelter. I cared not for a bed. I wished a mere cover from the 

 storm. The man was inexorable. He did not believe my story 

 and ordered me off. I had not the moral courage after this 

 heartless repulse to make another trial. To go back was absurd, 

 and I might not be received, while to go forward was next to 

 impossible. I did not know the way well, having only once 

 travelled it, and the darkness of the night did not admit of its 

 being always traceable. While in this quandary I descried at the 

 end of a house where two roads met, and in the very vicinage of 

 the hamlet, a small haystack. Here I re.solved to take refuge for 

 the remainder of the night. I scrambled over the wall, from 

 which I took stones, and made a seat on the leeward side of the 

 stack. There I took my rest, drawing the hay over my head. I 

 could not sleep. I shivered in the cold till daylight appeared, 



