he makes more provision for them; but as below a certain rank he is
not a writing animal, less is known of his successes or difficulties.
For our own part, we think we would have made an excellent Crusoe, and
your Crusoe is the only man for a new country.

Some years ago, we travelled over the backbone of Scotland, and
returned somewhat on its western fin, both on foot; and all our
equipments were a travelling dress, a stout umbrella, and a parcel in
wax-cloth strapped on our left shoulder, not larger than is generally
seen in the hands of a commercial traveller--that is, twelve inches by
six or eight; and yet we never wanted for anything. It is true we had
generally the convenience of inns by the way; but if by our
_Traveller's Guide_ (which we also carried) we saw the stage was to be
long, an oaten cake, with a _plug_ of wheaten bread for the last
mouthful, to keep down heartburn, and a slice of cold beef or ham, or
a hard-boiled egg, were ample provisions. Drink? There was no lack of
drink. Springs of the most beautiful water were frequent by the
roadside, and constantly bubbling up, without noise or motion, through
the purest sand, though heaven only was looking upon them; and a
single leaf from our memorandum-book, formed into the shape of a
grocer's twist as wanted, served us as a drinking-cup throughout the
journey. Had we even been overtaken by night, it was summer, and a bed
under whins, or upon heather, with our umbrella set against the wind,
and secured to us, would have been delightful. Once, indeed, we feared
this would have been our fate; for on the very top of Corryarrick, and
consequently nine miles or more from house or home in any direction,
we sprained our ankle, or rather an old sprain returned. To all
appearance, we were done for, and might have sat stiff for days or
weeks by the solitary spring that happened to be near at the instant.
But a piece of flannel from the throat, and a tape from the wondrous