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Sunday, September 11th

The record week of the walk had been one of anxiety in many ways. To walk 320 miles with the absence of any proper arrangement for food was anything but satisfactory. My attendant had done his best, and done it well, but he was human, and could not be expected to do two or three men's work.

Other record breakers generally get attended by quite a small army of pace-makers, etc., to say nothing of a motor-car to carry necessary clothing, food, and other essentials. The path of reform is always hard, and rightly so. The earnest ones only keep to it, for any length of time. It did not matter so much the first week when only 273 miles were covered; but it was a different problem with 47 miles added to the distance.

We had the choice of two evils.

My attendant had to be away from me about the half of each day ordering meals, or we must make shift with what happened to be going. I preferred to lose a little in nutriment and have the company of my friend more; for it is terribly monotonous, on a walk like this, jogging away alone for hours, especially in deserted parts of the country.

White bread and eggs with fruit and salads, when obtainable, were our chief food from Worcester to Glasgow, consequently in the absence of green vegetables I arrived at the latter town rather hungry.

My vegetable dinners were missed very much.

Before retiring to rest on Saturday, and immediately after a warm bath, I ate a good meal of cooked cheese, and on Sunday I had five good square meals. Indeed, I kept the good lady of the house where I stayed a good part of the day looking after my food. It was a real surprise for her.

I had either to start on Monday with a low store of vitality, or eat sufficient food to enable me to make it up and risk the possibility of overtaxing my stomach. I chose the latter course, and beyond a slight internal looseness, I felt no ill effects, thanks to my powers of assimilation.

The offer by the Scottish Vegetarian Society of two men to accompany me for the remainder of the walk, was gladly accepted by me.

To start with on Monday, I had now my English friend and a Scotchman, both cyclists, and another to go forward each day by train, to order the mid-day meal and accommodation for the night,—a kind of advance agent, in fact.

The clouds had now cleared. By 9 o'clock I was snug in bed, feeling that all difficulties had vanished, and looking eagerly forward to the following day, decided in my mind to make an attempt to finish the walk before another Sunday; but I never once expected to do what I did.

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