and I put up at the Wellington Hotel, which is but a little way from the
station. I took tea and a slice or two of ham in the coffee-room, and
had a little talk with two people there; one of whom, on learning that I
was an American, said, "But I suppose you have now been in England some
time?" He meant, finding me not absolutely a savage, that I must have
been caught a good while ago. . . .
The next morning I went into the city, the hotel being on its outskirts,
and rambled along in search of the cathedral. Some church-bells were
chiming and clashing for a wedding or other festal occasion, and I
followed the sound, supposing that it might proceed from the cathedral,
but this was not the case. It was not till I had got to a bridge over
the Severn, quite out of the town, that I saw again its tower, and knew
how to shape my course towards it.
I did not see much that was strange or interesting in Gloucester. It is
old, with a good many of those antique Elizabethan houses with two or
three peaked gables on a line together; several old churches, which
always cluster about a cathedral, like chickens round a hen; a hospital
for decayed tradesmen; another for bluecoat boys; a great many butcher's
shops, scattered in all parts of the town, open in front, with a counter
or dresser on which to display the meat, just in the old fashion of
Shakespeare's house. It is a large town, and has a good deal of
liveliness and bustle, in a provincial way. In short, judging by the
sheep, cattle, and horses, and the people of agricultural aspect that I
saw about the streets, I should think it must have been market-day. I
looked here and there for the old Bell Inn, because, unless I
misremember, Fielding brings Tom Jones to this inn, while he and
Partridge were travelling together. It is still extant; for, on my
arrival the night before, a runner from it had asked me to go thither;
but I forgot its celebrity at the moment. I saw nothing of it in my
rambles about Gloucester, but at last I found