Sherborne is a pleasant and healthy town with many quaint nooks other than the immediate precincts of the Abbey.  Although perhaps not as central as Yeovil for the exploration of the more interesting villages of South Somerset, it is a good place in which to stay for a few days or even longer.  Perhaps the most lasting impression made by the town will be that of hush and silence; not that it is stagnant or utterly decayed, but even the main streets are saturated with the grave air of a cathedral close, a fitting atmosphere for a place which retired from active city life over eight hundred years ago.

An interesting excursion may be made to Cadbury Castle, five miles north of Sherborne.  A round of about fifteen miles, to include the villages of Marston Magna, West and Queen’s Camel, Sparkford (with a station on the Great Western) North and South Cadbury, Sutton Montis and Sandford Orcas, would take the explorer through a delightful countryside dotted with beautiful old houses—­some of them fallen from high estate to the status of comfortable and roomy farmhouse, but usually with a fabric well cared for—­and quaint and ancient churches.  Of these North Cadbury, Marston and Sandford claim the most attention.  The first is a large and dignified Perpendicular building with finely carved tabernacles in the chancel and several interesting features, including a curious brass to Lady Magdalen Hastings.  Close by is a beautiful old manor house.  Marston is much older than the generality of Somerset churches and has the scanty remnants of “herring-bone” work in the outside wall of the chancel.  At Sandford is a delightful manor house with the loveliest of terraces and gardens and an old gate-house with an upper chamber.  The interesting church contains a curious tablet depicting a knight in white armour and two ladies, one holding a skull.  This is Sir William Knoyl and his two wives, the one with the skull being his first.  The goal of the journey, Cadbury Castle, is, according to strong local tradition, no less a spot than Camelot, the palace and castle of the king of romance and hero of the British—­Arthur.  It will be remembered that to Camelot came the sword Excalibur “that was as the light of many candles.”  In the moonlight, the twelve knights, led by their prince, ride round the hill on horses shod with silver and then away through the trees to Glastonbury.  As they disappear, the thin notes of a silver trumpet came back on the midnight air.  Some are of opinion that the hill is hollow, and that Arthur and his company sleep within, awaiting the day of impending doom for Britain.  Then they will break the chains of slumber and come to her aid.  Some say that of late the Prince and his followers did come forth.  Every intelligent native for miles round knows that the hill is indeed hollow, for this can be proved by calling to your companion through the opening of Arthur’s Well high on the eastern face of the hill while he stands at St. Anne’s Well away on the other side.  Another legend has it that the hill is not full of men but of gold, the treasure house of the fairies, but this is a belief that will only appeal to grosser minds.