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"From John O'Groats to Land's End"

When we struck a match and lit a piece of paper, we
discovered that there was no road beyond the gate, the lane having made
an abrupt turning towards the left upon reaching it. We walked along
carefully, striking a match occasionally, and at length came to a
finger-post, green with age; we could not, however, distinguish the
lettering on the arms at the top, so I knew that my turn had now come,
as when there was any climbing to be done during our journey, I had to
do it. I "swarmed up" the post to the arms at the top, while my brother
lighted a piece of newspaper below; but it was of no use, as the names
were partly obscured. Still I could see that Liskeard was not one of
them, so I dropped down again, nearly knocking my brother over, as the
ground was not level at the foot of the post and the light had gone out.
We had to stop a minute or two, for the glare of the light from the
burning paper had made the darkness more impenetrable than before; but
the narrowness of the road was an advantage to us, as we knew we could
not get far astray. Coming to a good hard road, we arrived at a bridge
where there were a few houses, and soon we were walking quickly again on
the right way to Liskeard; but how we blessed that countryman who with
the best of intentions had directed us the nearer way! In a few miles we
saw a light ahead, and found it came from a small inn by the roadside
where one road crossed another, and here we called to inquire our way,
and were informed we had arrived at St.


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