246 A Walk from 



-It may be truly said of Fotheringay Castle, that 

 not one stone is left upon another to mark its founda- 

 tions. Not Fleet-street Prison, nor the Bastile itself, 

 went out under a heavier weight of popular odium. 

 Although public sentiment, as well as the personal 

 taste and interest of their proprietors, has favored the 

 preservation of the ruins of old castles and abbeys in 

 Grreat Britain, Fotheringay bore, branded deep in its 

 forehead, the mark of Cain, and every man's hand, of 

 the last generation, seemed to have been turned against 

 it. It has not only been demolished, but the debris 

 have been scattered far and wide, and devoted to uses 

 which they scarcely honor. You will see the well- 

 faced stones for miles around, in garden walls, pave- 

 ments, cottage hearths and chimneys, in stables and 

 cow-houses. In Oundle, the principal hotel, a large 

 castellated building, shows its whole front built of 

 them. 



The great lion of Stamford is the Burghley House, 

 the palace of the Marquis of Exeter. It may be 

 called so without exaggeration of its magnificence 

 as a building or of the extent and grandeur of its 

 surroundings. The edifice itself would cut up into 

 nearly half a dozen "White Houses," such as we 

 install our American Presidents in at Washington. 

 Certainly, in any point of view, it is large and 



