ST. ALBANS. 231 



to put my feet under the same mahogany, 

 my eyes were far more feasted than my ap- 

 petite, though it was pleasantly and politely 

 courted, and I rose from the table in admi- 

 ration of the beauty and order of an Eng- 

 lishman's fire-side. 



My Sundays were now generally spent at 

 St. Albans, and I was soon made acquainted 

 with the beautiful walks round this inter- 

 esting old town, the site of so many events 

 in our history. In the valley at the foot of 

 the Abbey orchard or grounds runs the 

 little river Ver now but a trout stream, 

 though it turns two or three valuable silk 

 and cotton mills ; but in the time of the 

 Romans navigable for their armed galleys 

 and stately barges. Crossing it by a plank 

 you come to the walls of the ancient Veru- 

 lam, where the Roman brick is still visible, 

 and where all attempts to detach one whole 

 have proved futile. Here, too, did the 

 masters of the world under Paulinus defeat 



