Most of the old churches had disappeared too, but under St. Peter’s there was a wine-cellar belonging to a public-house displaying the strange sign of the “Sun and Moon.”  The proximity of inns to churches we had often noted on our journey, but thought this intrusion had been carried rather too far, although the age of the church proclaimed it to be a relic of great antiquity.  We must not forget to record that between Wilton and Shaftesbury we saw a large quantity of pheasants feeding under some oak trees.  We counted more than twenty of them, and had never seen so many gathered together before.  Among them we noted three that were white, the only white pheasants we had ever seen.

Leaving Shaftesbury, we crossed over one section of the Blackmoor Vale, or what we might describe as the Stour country, for there were many place-names in which the word Stour occurred.  The place where the River Stour rises is known as Stourhead; and we had seen a monument, rather a fine one, in Salisbury Cathedral, to the murderer, Lord Charles Stourton.  Three holes on each side of the monument represented the sources of the Stour at Stourhead, and these figured in the armorial bearings of the family.  Lord Charles was hanged with a silk cord instead of the usual one made of hemp, the execution taking place in Salisbury Market-place in 1556; his crime was the murder of two of the family agents, father and son.  His own four agents were hanged at the same time along with him, and a piece of twisted wire resembling the halter was suspended over his tomb for many years, to remind people of his punishment and crime.

We took the precaution of getting our tea before leaving Shaftesbury, as there was some uncertainty about the road to Sturminster, where, attracted by the name, we expected to find a minster or cathedral, and had therefore decided to make that town our next stage.  We could see a kind of mist rising at several points in the valley as we descended the steep hill leading out of the town in the direction of the Stour valley.  No highway led that way except one following a circuitous route, so we walked at a quick pace along the narrow by-road, as we had been directed.  Darkness soon came over us, and we had to moderate our speed.  We met very few persons on the road, and saw very few houses, and it seemed to us a marvel afterwards that we ever reached Sturminster (or Stourminster) that night.  It would have been bad enough if we had been acquainted with the road, but towards the close of our journey we could hear the river running near us for miles in the pitch darkness, and although my brother walked bravely on in front, I knew he was afraid of the water, and no doubt in fear that he might stumble into it in the dark.  We were walking in Indian file, for there was no room to walk abreast in safety, while in places we had absolutely to grope our way.  We moved along

  Like one who on a lonely road
    Doth walk in fear and dread. 
    And dare not turn his head,
  For well he knows a fearful fiend
    Doth close behind him tread.