The objects that stand out in my memory on that
journey were Salisbury Spire, and a long hill where the hedgebank
was one mass of the exquisite rose-bay willow herb--a perfect
revelation to our city-bred eyes; but indeed, the whole route was
like one panorama to us of L'Allegro and other descriptions on which
we had fed. For in those days we were much more devoted to poetry
than is the present generation, which has a good deal of false shame
on that head.
Even dining and sleeping at an inn formed a pleasing novelty, though
we did not exactly sympathise with Martyn when he dashed in at
breakfast exulting in having witnessed the killing of a pig. As my
father observed, it was too like realising Peter's forebodings of
our return to savage life.
Demonstrations were not the fashion of these times, and there was a
good deal of dull discontent and disaffection in the air, so that no
tokens of welcome were prepared for us--not even a peal of bells;
nor indeed should we have heard them if they had been rung, for the
church was a mile and a half beyond the house, with a wood between
cutting off the sound, except in certain winds. We did not miss a
reception, which would rather have embarrassed us. We began to
think it was time to arrive, and my father believed we were climbing
the last hill, when, just as we had passed a remarkably pretty
village and church, Griffith called out to say that we were on our
own ground.
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