I write to you a few words from this place; tomorrow I am going to Llandovery and from there to Carmarthen. For the first three or four days I had dreadful weather. I got only to Worthen the first day, twelve miles, on the next to Montgomery, and so on. It is now very hot; but I am very well, much better than at Shrewsbury. I hope in a few days to write to you again, and soon to be back to you.
God bless you and Hen.
G. Borrow.
Letter XIV. To Mary Borrow.
Inverness,
September 29 th, 1858.
My Dear Carreta,
I have got your letter, and glad enough I was to get it. The day after to-morrow I shall depart from here for Fort Augustus, at some distance up the lake. After staying a few days there, I am thinking of going to the Isle of Mull, but I will write to you if possible from Fort Augustus.
I am rather sorry that I came to Scotland—I was never in such a place in my life for cheating and imposition, and the farther north you go the worse things seem to be. And yet I believe it is possible to live very cheaply here, that is if you have a house of your own and a wife to go out and make bargains; for things are abundant enough, but if you move about you are at the mercy of innkeepers and suchlike people.
The other day I was swindled out of a shilling by a villain to whom I had given it for change. I ought, perhaps, to have had him up before a magistrate, provided I could have found one. But I was in a wild place, and he had a clan about him, and if I had had him up I have no doubt I should have been outsworn. I, however, have met one fine, noble old fellow. The other night I lost my way amongst horrible moors, and wandered for miles and miles without seeing a soul. At last I saw a light, which came from the window of a rude hovel. I tapped, at the window, and shouted, and at last an old man came out. He asked me what I wanted, and I told him I had lost my way. He asked me where I came from, and where I wanted to go; and on my telling him he said I had indeed lost my way, for I had got out of it at least four miles, and was going away from the place I wanted to get to. He then said he would show me the way, and went with me for several miles over most horrible places. At last we came to a road where he said he thought he might leave me, and wished me goodnight. I gave him a shilling. He was very grateful, and said, after considering, that as I had behaved so handsomely to him he would not leave me yet, as he thought it possible I might yet lose my way. He then went with me three miles farther, and I have no doubt that, but for him, I should have lost my way again the roads were so tangled. I never saw such an old fellow, or one whose conversation was so odd and entertaining. This happened last Monday night, the night of the day in which I had been swindled of the shilling by the other; I could write a history about those two shillings.
[George Borrow.]