I did not immediately recollect that to subsist in this desert was
impossible. Nuts were the only fruits it produced, and these were
inadequate to sustain human life. If it were haunted by Clithero, he
must occasionally pass its limits and beg or purloin victuals. This
deportment was too humiliating and flagitious to be imputed to him.
There was reason to suppose him smitten with the charms of solitude, of
a lonely abode in the midst of mountainous and rugged nature; but this
could not be uninterruptedly enjoyed. Life could be supported only by
occasionally visiting the haunts of men, in the guise of a thief or a
mendicant. Hence, since Clithero was not known to have reappeared at any
farm-house in the neighbourhood, I was compelled to conclude either that
he had retired far from this district, or that he was dead.

Though I designed that my leisure should chiefly be consumed in the
bosom of Norwalk, I almost dismissed the hope of meeting with the
fugitive. There were indeed two sources of my hopelessness on this
occasion. Not only it was probable that Clithero had fled far away, but,
should he have concealed himself in some nook or cavern within these
precincts, his concealment was not to be traced. This arose from the
nature of that sterile region.

It would not be easy to describe the face of this district, in a few
words. Half of Solesbury, thou knowest, admits neither of plough nor
spade. The cultivable space lies along the river, and the desert, lying
on the north, has gained, by some means, the appellation of Norwalk.
Canst thou imagine a space, somewhat circular, about six miles in
diameter, and exhibiting a perpetual and intricate variety of craggy
eminences and deep dells?