Here we find a large old timbered farmhouse, with huge oak beams in the ceiling of its roomy kitchen, and carved panelling around some of the better rooms; and doors upstairs that still retain their original wrought iron hinges and wooden thumb-latches. The place must formerly have been surrounded by a moat, for a part of it yet remains, besides a good stone doorway in the adjacent boundary wall--altogether a notable old house, which looks as if it might have had a history. Who knows but what it is named after that Humphrey Penderel, Miller of Whiteladies Mill, whose horse had the honour of carrying, as he declared, 'the price of three kingdoms on his back'? Thence it is but a mile to The Crown at Albrighton, a fine, upstanding old inn, shewing a ruddy, genial-looking gabled front towards the village street, and boasting withal one of the best bowling-greens in the county. So calling in to test the quality of mine host's ale, half-an-hour slips away in no time as we take our ease in the bar parlour, before starting forth to investigate our new neighbourhood. [Illustration: Albrighton.] Guided by the sound of bells, we soon find our way to Albrighton church, which, overlooking a placid mere, rises beside the highway at the farther end of the village. Though considerably restored, the church is not devoid of interest, a good rose window in the gable of the north aisle being a noticeable feature, as also are the curious circular openings on either side the belfry windows. In the chancel, carved in marble, John Talbot of Grafton lies in state beside his lady wife; while Master Leonard Smallpage of Pepperhill has to content himself with a bald stone slab, outside in the chilly churchyard. But he had a goodly dwelling in his time, as we shall presently see. A bowshot away towards the north, beyond the lake-like mere, stands a rival church, St. Cuthbert's, the parish church of Donington. On the way thither we turn aside to take a look at St. Cuthbert's well, a perennial spring of water much resorted to in bygone days as a cure for sore eyes. Donington church, like its neighbour across the water, has been largely renovated in recent times. Its thirteenth-century chancel has some interesting features; a good oak roof, supported upon carved brackets, overarches the nave, and some massive oak pews with enriched panels are to be found in the north aisle. We now retrace our steps as far as The Crown at Albrighton, and, following a by-lane, come presently to Boningale, one of those quiet, out-of-the-way hamlets on the road to nowhere, whither the echoes of this eager nineteenth century seem scarce to penetrate, and where one's footfall in the silent street brings the villagers agape to their open doors. [Illustration: Old Well-Cover at Pepperhill. Albrighton.]