We purchased in Liverpool an "American tourists' stop-over ticket," over what is known as the "Garden Route," for 16/6, which, being interpreted, signifies sixteen shillings and sixpence, or slightly over four dollars.
We are at The Blossoms, an inn over four hundred years old. We have been to Hawarden Castle, the beautiful home of the late Mr. Gladstone. It is in Wales, but five miles from here. On our return we visited Eaton Hall, the magnificent "place" of the Duke of Westminster.
Chester is one of the oldest towns in England, and some of the old Roman wall, built over one thousand years ago, is yet standing. The "Old Rows," two-story shops, with some above and some below the sidewalk, are quaint. The beautiful drive is called the "Roodee," a contraction of the French word rue and the River Dee, on the banks of which the old town is situated. Here is a cathedral which presents every style of English mediæval architecture, from the early Norman to the last Perpendicular.
I count this a remarkable day. I have seen my first English cathedral, my first English estate, and have stood, for the first time, in the cloisters of an abbey.
LEAMINGTON:
We arrived at Leamington at "ten to five" last evening. The people of the Manor House were expecting us, as we had written from Chester. We chose this inn from our guide-book, and because it had a garden. I have learned that, in England, when in doubt about an inn, "lead" with a garden, and you will rarely make a mistake.
This has been a damp journey so far. The rain began in Chicago, and has kept pace with me all the way. Notwithstanding, we strolled, after tea, over the little spa and a good five miles of beautiful meadow to Guy's Cliff, the handsome countryseat of Lord Percy, and back in time for eight o'clock table d'hôte. The number of times these English cousins of ours eat is remarkable. They breakfast anywhere from eight to eleven, lunch from twelve to four, have tea always at five, and dinner from eight to eleven at night.
This morning, at eight, dressed in our short walking skirts and heavy boots, with every warm garment we possess under our jackets, we started for Warwick. It was bitterly cold—but—did you ever see a castle?
I have! Today!
Imagine me standing outside the castle wall, gazing up in silent awe. This wall is one hundred and twenty-five feet high and ten feet thick, built around a square of two miles, the gray walls of the castle itself forming one side of the square.