It lies among meadows by the Ouse, with a farm or two and a cluster of stone cottages round about. In this village was born John Hall, who later practised at Stratford-on-Avon and be-came Shakespeare's son-in-law. On rising ground to the south-west are a few outbuildings of what was once the manor house of Carlton Hall or Staysmore; in the 18th century this was replaced by the house still called Staymore Manor and standing in the village; its deceptive Victorian refronting gives no hint of the pleasant Georgian rear which looks on to the garden. A thatched house in the Moor (the street is so called because it faced the moor or common) was once a bakery and has remains of an old baking oven. Nearby we catch a glimpse of an old dovecote. The modern housing blends well with the old.

Carlton has a notable Baptist church built in 176o, with a dignified interior (modern porches and a later wing detract from the external view). The congregation goes back to 1688, and the church minute-book on one occasion records disagreement between pastor and members over baptism; they even discussed "dismembering" their pastor, but eventually he moved elsewhere.

In Victorian times there was established at Carlton one of the earliest reform schools in England. It is now a Community Home.

As we walk towards the church (the village has receded from it), we think of the diarist, Benjamin Rogers, who was rector 1720-71. On May 19, 1733 he wrote, "My son John, being about 5 years old, fell backwards into the pottage pot just as it was taken boiling off the fire for dinner"; and on September 9, 1735, "My wife set out this morning for Bedford in the chaise to meet my daughter Sarah, who is to come thither from London in the Bedford coach this evening. God send them a good journey!" He advised his parishioners for their physical health; thus March 25, 1729; "Ordered William Allen to be blooded for the pleurisy"; Allen was blooded twice; then comes the entry, "He died".

The lower part of the church tower is Norman, and there are two lancet windows; most of the rest is 14th century. Inside we find a fine Norman font on a base which was altered later; a traceried screen; some 16th century pews; and a charming little 17th century pulpit. Monuments there are none; but a few inscriptions: a punning one of 1610 to Joan Goddard which tells us that "hir soule is Godward gone"; one of 1642 to a rector, Thomas Wells, aged too, who had been there 70 years; and in the chancel floor one to our friend the diarist, Benjamin Rogers.