Biddestone, above Corsham, has many good old houses round its
village green. The little bell turret to the church is singular, but the eye
is detracted by an ugly stove-pipe which sticks out of the roof close by. There is s
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ome Roman work within, but the high box pews look out of keeping.
About three miles to the north-west is Castle Combe, one of the
sweetest villages in Wiltshire or in any other county. It is surrounded
by hills and hanging woods, and lies deep down and hidden from
view. As you descend, the banks on either side show glimpses, here
and there; a grey gable peeping out of the dense foliage or grey
cottages perched up high. Still downward, the road winds in the
shade of lofty trees, then suddenly you find yourself looking down
upon the quaint old market-cross, with the grey church tower peering
over some ancient roofs. This presumably is the market-place,—not a
busy one by any means, for beyond an aged inhabitant resting on the
solid stone base, or perhaps a child or two climbing up and down the
steps (for it is a splendid playground)—all is still. The village pump alongside the cross, truly, supplies occasional buckets of water for
the various gabled stone cottages around, indeed (as is invariably the
case when one's camera is in position) people seemed to spring up
from nowhere, and the pump handle was exceptionally busy. The
cross is richly sculptured with shields and roses at the base, and the
shaft rises high above the picturesque old roof, which is supported by
four moulded stone supports. Undoubtedly it is one of the most
perfect fifteenth-century crosses in England. The road still winds
downwards to a rushing stream crossed by a little bridge, and here
there is a group of pretty cottages with prettier gardens abutt
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ing on the road. We have seen these under very different aspects, in
March with snow upon the creepers, and in October when the
creepers were brilliant scarlet, and scarcely know which made the
prettier picture. The sound of rushing water adds romance to this
sweet village.