just before eight. The castle, situated on a high and precipitous rock,
directly over the edge of which look the walls, was visible, as we drove
from the station to our hotel. We followed the advice of a railway
attendant in going first to the May Pole, which proved to be a commercial
inn, with the air of a drinking-shop, in a by-alley; and, furthermore,
they could not take us in. So we drove to the George the Fourth, which
seems to be an excellent house; and here I have remained quiet, the size
of the town discouraging me from going out in the twilight which was fast
coming on after tea. These are glorious long days for travel; daylight
fairly between four in the morning and nine at night, and a margin of
twilight on either side.
May 29th.--After breakfast, this morning, I wandered out and lost myself;
but at last found the post-office, and a letter from Mr. Wilding, with
some perplexing intelligence. Nottingham is an unlovely and
uninteresting town. The castle I did not see; but, I happened upon a
large and stately old church, almost cathedralic in its dimensions. On
returning to the hotel, we deliberated on the mode of getting to Newstead
Abbey, and we finally decided upon taking a fly, in which conveyance,
accordingly, we set out before twelve. It was a slightly overcast day,
about half intermixed of shade and sunshine, and rather cool, but not so
cool that we could exactly wish it warmer. Our drive to Newstead lay
through what was once a portion of Sherwood Forest, though all of it, I
believe, has now become private property, and is converted into fertile
fields, except where the owners of estates have set out plantations. We
have now passed out of the fen-country, and the land rises and falls in
gentle swells, presenting a pleasant, but not striking, character of
scenery. I remember no remarkable object on the road,--here and there an
old inn, a gentleman's seat of moderate pretension, a great deal of tall
and continued hedge, a quiet English greenness and rurality, till,
drawing near