[Illustration:  OLD SARUM:  BASE OF THE LOOK-OUT TOWER.]

John Leland, who was born in 1506 and was chaplain to Henry VIII, made a tour of the kingdom, and wrote in his well-known Itinerary, “Their is not one house, neither within or without Old Saresbyri inhabited.  Much notable minus building of the Castell yet remayneth.  The diche that envirined the old town was a very deepe and strong thynge.”  Samuel Pepys, who was born in 1632, and who was secretary to the Admiralty during the reigns of Charles II and James II, describes in his famous Diary many interesting incidents in the life of that period.  He wrote of Old Sarum:  “I saw a great fortification and there light, and to it and in it, and find it so prodigious as to frighten one to be in it at all alone at that time of night.”  It would probably be at an earlier hour of a lighter night when Mr. Pepys visited it, than when we passed it on this occasion, for the hill now was enveloped in black darkness “deserted and drear,” and we should scarcely have been able to find the entrance “to it and in it,” and, moreover, we might not have been able to get out again, for since his time an underground passage had been opened, and who knows what or who might have been lurking there!  Dr. Adam Clark visited Old Sarum in 1806, and wrote:  “We found here the remains of a very ancient city and fortress, surrounded by a deep trench, which still bears a most noble appearance.  On the top of the hill the castle or citadel stood, and several remains of a very thick wall built all of flint stone, cemented together with a kind of everlasting mortar.  What is remarkable is that these ruins are still considered in the British constitution as an inhabited city, and send two members to Parliament.  Within the breadth of a field from this noble hill there is a small public-house, the only dwelling within a very great space, and containing a very few persons, who, excepting the crows, hens, and magpies, are the only beings which the worthy members have to represent in the British Senate.”

We were glad when we reached Salisbury and found a comfortable refuge for the night in one of the old inns in the town.  It was astonishing how cosy the low rooms in these old-fashioned inns appeared, now that the “back end” of the year was upon us and the nights becoming longer, darker, and colder.  The blazing fire, the ingle nook, the pleasant company, such as it was, the great interest taken in our long walk—­for people knew what heavy walking meant in those days—­all tended to make us feel comfortable and at home.  True, we did not care much for the dialect in these southern counties, and should much have preferred “a bit o’ gradely Lankyshur,” so as a rule we listened rather than joined in the conversation; but we were greatly interested in the story of the Wiltshire Moonrakers, which, as we were strangers, was apparently given for our benefit by one of the older members of the rather jovial company.  It