The musically voiced bells sound the hour from the great church, rich in beauty and tradition, and we walk across the market-place, this side the castle hill--the hill which held for six hundred years the precious jewelled crucifix, with the splinter of the ""True Cross"" in its secret recess, a careless English queen once lost from her neck--towards our quiet inn, a real museum of interesting things fittingly housed, for supper of Suffolk ham and country ale, and then to bed, before the long walk of the morrow. Воспроизведено в оригинальной авторской орфографии издания 1914 года (издательство "London, Constable").

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