We found Shrewsbury situated on
an eminence, around which the Severn winds, making a peninsula of it,
quite densely covered by the town. The streets ascend, and curve about,
and intersect each other with the customary irregularity of these old
English towns, so that it is quite impossible to go directly to any given
point, or for a stranger to find his way to a place which he wishes to
reach, though, by what seems a singular good fortune, the sought-for
place is always offering itself when least expected. On this account I
never knew such pleasant walking as in old streets like those of
Shrewsbury. And there are passages opening under archways, and winding
up between high edifices, very tempting to the explorer, and generally
leading to some court, or some queer old range of buildings or piece of
architecture, which it would be the greatest pity to miss seeing. There
was a delightful want of plan in the laying out of these ancient towns.
In fact, they never were laid out at all, nor were restrained by any plan
whatever, but grew naturally, with streets as eccentric as the pathway of
a young child toddling about the floor.
The first curious thing we particularly noticed, when we strolled out
after dinner, was the old market-house, which stands in the midst of an
oblong square; a gray edifice, elevated on pillars and arches, and with
the statue of an armed knight, Richard Plantagenet, Duke of York, in a
central niche, in its front.
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