the walls of the castle to the falls of the river, and a spot more
calculated to invite the wanderings of a despairing and guilty spirit, I
never saw. But though the savage gray towers far above shone betimes in
the moonlight and the tall trees below rustled weirdly in the night
breeze and the rush of the river over the weir rose and fell as is the
wont of falling water in the silence of the night, I looked in vain for
the wraith of the hapless maiden of the heath and finally gave up the
quest."

[Illustration: LUDLOW CASTLE, THE KEEP AND ENTRANCE.]

When we left the castle, though nearly noon, the custodian was still
belated, and we yet owe him sixpence for admittance, which we hope to
pay some time in person. A short walk brought us to the church--"the
finest parish church in England," declares one well qualified to judge.
"Next to the castle," he says, "the glory of Ludlow is its church, which
has not only the advantage of a commanding site but, as already
mentioned, is held to be one of the finest in the country." It is built
of red sandstone and is cruciform in shape, with a lofty and graceful
tower, which is a landmark over miles of country and beautiful from any
point of view. I have already mentioned the chime of bells which flings
its melodies every few hours over the town and which are hung in this
tower. The monuments, the stained-glass windows and the imposing
architecture are scarcely equalled by any other church outside of the
cathedrals.

We had made the most of our stay in Ludlow, but it was all too short.
The old town was a revelation to us, as it would be to thousands of our
countrymen who never think of including it in their itinerary. But for
the motor car, it would have remained undiscovered to us. With the great