MONUMENT OF CHIVALROUS SPLENDOR.

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WARWICK CASTLE.

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CHAPTER II.

SHAKSPEARE. · JOHN WYCLIFFE. WINDSOR CASTLE. LONDON. —AN ARMY COMRADE. PARIS.—MONT CENIS. -ITALIAN SKIES.TURIN. GENOA. PISA.—THE RIVER PO.

THE RUBICON.

We took a carriage at Leamington, and drove to Warwick Castle, which is one of the most striking specimens of feudal grandeur to be found in the kingdom. Scott calls it, "that fairest monument of ancient and chivalrous splendor." Its foundation is attributed to a daughter of Alfred the Great, and it dates back to the year 915. It is situated on a rock, the base of which is washed by the river Avon. It is now owned and occupied (a part of the time) by the Earl of Warwick, who has recently married an American lady. A thousand acres of land adjacent to this castle constitutes the landed estate of the earl.

Of this ancient castle we took a thorough view, both outside and in. But the construction and finish of the vast apartments, the paintings, the sculpture, the endless variety of relics which have been gathered from all quarters of the habitable globe, I shall not attempt to describe: I shall leave them to the imagination of the reader. The

28

CEDARS OF LEBANON.

flowers, shrubbery, and trees about the premises cover, and clothe with beauty, many acres. Among the rare trees are several large cedars of Lebanon, - trees that were brought from Mount Lebanon, and planted here, over six hundred years ago. While going from arbor to river, and from flower-beds to tower, in surveying this magnificent feudal estate, the sweet music of a chime from a neighboring cathedral came wafted on the air, to add to the impressiveness of the hour.

Leaving here, we proceeded on eight miles farther, to Stratford-on-Avon, where we visited the birthplace and home of Shakspeare. The house still stands, in a good state of preservation; but it is as unique and unpretentious a dwellinghouse as one could well imagine. Long, narrow, one-story, and very low at that, such is the house we found. It is finished after the rudest style of even Shakspeare's day, - a wooden frame filled in with brick, both the frame and the brick coming to the weather. The floors are of rough slate-stone, now settled, and broken into many pieces. The rooms are constructed without the slightest regard to symmetry or convenience. In this rude structure the immortal bard was born, and here he had his home.

We entered this very ancient historic building; entered the room in which Shakspeare was born; entered his sleeping-apartment, sat in his seat, and sought his inspiration. It is known where

SHAKSPEARE'S BIRTHPLACE.

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this most gifted man was born, where he lived, and where his remains were laid to rest; but, strange as it may seem, it is not known where he died. Hence when Washington Irving, our own sweet writer, visited this hallowed spot in 1821, he thus gave expression to his thoughts:

"Of mighty Shakspeare's birth the room we see:
That where he died in vain to find we try,

Useless the search; for all immortal he,

And those who are immortal never die."

We went to the venerable church by the river, in which the daughter of our hero was married, and beneath the chancel of which sleeps the dust of Shakspeare and his family as peacefully as the gentle Avon laves the foundations of the sacred edifice. That, as well as the dwelling-house, is a memorable resort for tourists.

But the river Avon has been made classic by another cause. John Wycliffe was a noted English Reformer of the fourteenth century. Thirty years had passed over his grave, when, in the Council of Constance, more than three hundred articles, said to have been extracted from his manuscripts, were condemned, and, with them, the whole of his writings. Nor was this anathema considered an adequate expression of abhorrence. To this council it appeared that Wycliffe died an obstinate heretic; and it was accordingly further decreed, that his memory should be pronounced

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THE BONES OF WYCLIFFE BURNED.

infamous, and that his bones should be removed from the consecrated ground in which they were deposited, and cast upon a dunghill. But this

sentence was not carried out at once, nor until the antipope, Clement VIII., ordered it in 1428 to be strictly executed, when his remains were taken up and burned, and the ashes cast into the Swift, a small tributary of the Avon. Hence the familiar couplet, —

"The Avon to the Severn runs,

The Severn to the sea."

The ashes of John Wycliffe were cast into this small stream at Lutterworth. Thence, in the language of Fuller, they were conducted to the Severn, to the narrow seas, and to the ocean, and thus became the emblem of his doctrine, which was to flow from the province to the nation, and from the nation to the many kingdoms of the world.

We returned to Leamington, and went thence to London, via Oxford. Our road ran through a country rich in agricultural resources and manufacturing industries. At Oxford we struck the river Thames, on which the capital of the kingdom is situated. We crossed and recrossed this quiet stream several times, saw Windsor Castle, the home of the Queen, in all the glory which a setting sun can impart, and arrived at London just after nightfall.

At the Langham Hotel, a popular resort for Americans, we found excellent quarters. This house is eligibly situated at the junction of Regent Street and Portland Place. Here we felt at home while attending to certain business matters, and visiting some of the chief points of interest in the city. But, as we returned to London after our tour in Egypt and Syria, we shall defer any mention of the sights we there saw till we come to speak of our second, or return, visit.

Our next move was to Paris. At Victoria Station we went on board the train, and traveled by the way of Dover and Calais. The distance from London to Dover is seventy-five miles, and the country is extremely fine from point to point. On the shore of the English Channel at Dover, the "chalk-bluffs" rise perpendicularly from the water to the height of thirty, forty, and even fifty, feet, and look in the distance like great northern snow-banks.

While on deck of the steamboat in crossing the English Channel, I noticed a gentleman sharply eying me, and one toward whom I was irresistibly drawn. Coming immediately in contact with him, I extended my hand, and said, "Sir, your face looks very familiar; and I am sure you are an American." He replied, "If your name is Harriman, I inspected your command a number of times in the war." This stranger proved to be Gen. Shurtleff of Ohio, who served as inspector