I can only notice one other memorable place in Shrewsbury, and that is
the Raven Inn, where Farquhar wrote his comedy of "The Recruiting
Officer" in 1701. The window of the room in which he wrote is said to
look into the inn yard, and I went through the arched entrance to see if
I could distinguish it. The hostlers were currying horses in the yard,
and so stared at me that I gave but the merest glance. The Shrewsbury
inns have not only the customary names of English inns,--as the Lion, the
Stag,--but they have also the carved wooden figures of the object named,
whereas, in all other towns, the name alone remains.
We left Shrewsbury at half past ten, and arrived in London at about four
in the afternoon.
LONDON.
September 7th.--On Wednesday, just before dusk, J----- and I walked
forth, for the first time, in London. Our lodgings are in George Street,
Hanover Square, No. 21; and St. George's Church, where so many marriages
in romance and in fashionable life have been celebrated, is a short
distance below our house, in the same street. The edifice seems to be of
white marble, now much blackened with London smoke, and has a Grecian
pillared portico. In the square, just above us, is a statue of William
Pitt. We went down Bond Street, and part of Regent Street, just
estraying a little way from our temporary nest, and taking good account
of landmarks and corners, so as to find our way readily back again. It
is long since I have had such a childish feeling; but all that I had
heard and felt about the vastness of London made it seem like swimming in
a boundless ocean, to venture one step beyond the only spot I knew.
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