snail's pace over the fine road leading from Penrith to
Carlisle. We had been warned at Penrith, not against the bold
highwaymen, the border moss-troopers or the ranting Highlandmen of song
and story, but against a plain, Twentieth Century police trap which was
being worked very successfully along this road. Such was our approach in
these degenerate days to "Merrie Carlile," which figured so largely in
the endless border warfare between the Scotch and English. But why the
town should have been famed as "Merrie Carlile" would be hard to say,
unless more than a thousand years of turmoil, bloodshed and almost
ceaseless warfare through which it passed earned it the cheerful
appellation. The trouble between the English and the Welsh ended early,
but it has been only a century and a half ago since the closing scene of
the long and bitter conflict between the north and south was enacted at
Carlisle. Its grim old castle was the scene of the imprisonment and
execution of the last devoted followers of Prince Charlie, and
according to Scott's Waverly the dashing but sadly deluded young
chieftain, Fergus McIvor, was one of those who suffered a shameful
death. In this connection one remembers that Scott's marriage to Miss
Carpentier took place in Carlisle, an event that would naturally
accentuate our interest in the fine old border city. As we had
previously visited Carlisle, our stay was a short one, but its
remarkable history, its connection with the stories of Walter Scott, its
atmosphere of romance and legend and the numerous points of interest
within easy reach--all combine to make it a center where one might spend
several days. The Romans had been here also, and they, too, had
struggled with the wild tribes on the north, and from that time down to
the execution of the last adherents of the Stuarts in 1759 the town was
hardly at any time in a state of quietude. As described by an observant
writer, "every man became a soldier and every house that was not a mere
peasant's hut was a fortress." A local poet of the Seventeenth Century
summed it up in a terse if not elegant couplet as his unqualified
opinion

"That whoso then in the border did dwell
Lived little happier than those in hell."

But Carlisle is peaceful and quiet enough at the present time, a place
of considerable size and with a thriving commerce. Its castle, a plain
and unimpressive structure, still almost intact, has been converted
into military barracks, a