The passage within the wall is very rude, both
underfoot and on each side, with various ascents and descents of rough
steps,--sometimes so low that your head is in danger; and dark, except
where a little light comes through a loophole or window in the thickness
of the wall. In front of the castle a tennis-court was fitted up, by
laying a smooth pavement on the ground, and casing the walls with tin or
zinc, if I recollect aright. All this was open to the sky; and when we
were there, some young men of the town were playing at the game. There
are but very few of these tennis-courts in England; and this old castle
was a very strange place for one.
The castle is the property of Sir Richard Bulkely, whose seat is in the
vicinity, and who owns a great part of the island of Anglesea, on which
Beaumaris lies. The hotel where we stopped was the Bulkely Arms, and Sir
Richard has a kind of feudal influence in the town.
In the morning we walked along a delightful road, bordering on the Menai
Straits, to Bangor Ferry. It was really a very pleasant road, overhung
by a growth of young wood, exceedingly green and fresh. English trees
are green all about their stems, owing to the creeping plants that
overrun them. There were some flowers in the hedges, such as we
cultivate in gardens. At the ferry, there was a whitewashed cottage; a
woman or two, some children, and a fisherman-like personage, walking to
and fro before the door.
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