Our visit to this town reminded me of a story that I had read years ago of a certain bishop of Lichfield who had a reputation for repartee and ready replies to difficult questions. In a crowded room one evening, when it was not known that the bishop was present, the conversation turned to this aptness of his, and a man said, "I should like to meet that bishop of Lichfield; I'd put a question to him that would puzzle him."
"Very well," said a voice from another corner, "now is your time, for I am the bishop."
The first speaker was somewhat taken aback, but recovered himself sufficiently to say, "Well, my lord, can you tell me the way to heaven?"
"Nothing easier," answered the bishop, "you have only to turn to the right and go straight ahead."
The Shakespeare Country.
And now we are off for the Shakespeare country, not far away. Very different from the bold scenery of Scotland is that of this part of England. Here one sees—
"The ground's most gentle dimplement
(As if God's finger touched, but did not press,
In making England)—such an up and down
Of verdure; nothing too much up and down,