Indeed, almost any object gains upon me at the second sight. I
have spent the evening in writing up my journal,--an act of real virtue.
After walking round the cathedral, we went up a narrow and crooked
street, very old and shabby, but with an antique house projecting as much
as a yard over the pavement on one side,--a timber house it seemed to be,
plastered over and stained yellow or buff. There was no external door,
affording entrance into this edifice; but about midway of its front we
came to a low, Gothic, stone archway, passing right through the house;
and as it looked much time-worn, and was sculptured with untraceable
devices, we went through. There was an exceedingly antique, battered,
and shattered pair of oaken leaves, which used doubtless to shut up the
passage in former times, and keep it secure; but for the last centuries,
probably, there has been free ingress and egress. Indeed, the portal
arch may never have been closed since the Reformation. Within, we found
a quadrangle, of which the house upon the street formed one side, the
others being composed of ancient houses, with gables in a row, all
looking upon the paved quadrangle, through quaint windows of various
fashion.
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