diversified by heaths and fir forests to the west, where the soil is light and sandy, in great contrast to that of the Fens and of the chalk Wolds. Horncastle, I have said, is a quaint old town; it struck us as a pleasant one as well, picturesque in parts, especially by the side of the little river Bain that winds through it, and gives it rather a Dutch-like look. The chief portion of the town is built on a horn-shaped extent of land formed by the river. There was also a castle there of which some slight ruins remain, hence the name Horncastle, a bit of information I gleaned from a local paper. Consulting our old and well-used copy of Paterson we noticed that the Bull Inn here was given as the coaching and posting house, so we drove up to that old-time hostelry confidently, for it generally holds good in country places that the hotel mentioned in Paterson as the best is still the best. The Bull too was a good old-fashioned title, suggestive of the olden days and other ways; and within its hospitable walls we found comfortable quarters and a most courteous landlord, who also, we discovered, during a chat with him over our evening pipe, was like ourselves a confirmed traveller by road. "There's nothing like it for enjoyment and health," exclaimed he; "I never felt so well as when I was on the road." Sentiments in which we were one! Soundly we slept that night beneath the sign of the Bull. The fresh air of the Wolds acted like a powerful narcotic. Our long and interesting day's drive had a pleasant ending!
