of writing to you with the more pleasure that I postponed it, and am at this moment glad that I have done so. You will no doubt say this is a pretty way of excusing myself. You may do so if you like, and write to me as much as you will; but to leave off all preluding, I will give you such an account of myself as I am able.

This morning I arrived at the village of Bunbury; what little I have seen in my way here, and half an hour's walk this evening, have presented objects which much excite my admiration and curiosity. At the distance of two miles and a half to the west, is a hill, (in justice, I should rather denominate it a mountain,) on the summit of which appears perched a castle, now in ruins, called Beeston; as I slightly sketched in the outline on my walk, I give it you here.

It will convey to you more than I can say about it. To the left of this mountain are others; the forms are fine, but not equal to it. I feel sorry that what I have in hand will not detain me here more than three or four days, as I shall on that account not have sufficient time to explore.

Sir Hugh Calvely, a great soldier under Edward the Black Prince, is my subject, and in tolerable preservation, considering the hazards he has already run of being pounded, and given in powders to cattle; for alabaster, I understand, is a sovereign remedy for the rot in sheep, and other disorders of that nature. The knight's feet, sword, fingers, and part of his crest, have already been used for the above purpose. What say you to Cheshire recipes? I have now got into my old way of living; quite rusticated, and rather on the barbarous order. To give you a specimen, three minutes since comes a little dirty boy into the room, sidles up to the table, seeing me employed in writing, tells me he can daw (draw); it is only the prelude to putting his hand into the plate of toast, and retreating with half the round: this is freedom.

As I know yet but little of the place where I now am, I will speak of what I met with, after leaving London. Stratford-on-Avon was the first town in which I slept on my road to Warwick. I lay in the room next to that in which Shakspeare was born, though ignorant of it till the morning instinct did not point this out to me, nor was I the least inspired in consequence of it. Before breakfast I paid the tribute to Shakspeare, by viewing every insignificant relic, said to have been his; amongst them, I detected

many glaring forgeries; one was an angel, with a glory round his head; a piece of needlework in a frame, somewhat like a sampler, called Shakspeare in the character of Ariel, as he always acted the ghosties and sperrets in his own plays. The other a picture; the subject a garden with gravel-walks, cut hornbeam and yew, ladies and gentlemen taking the air; this, I was told, was painted for one of the scenes of the plays in which Shakspeare acted; though evidently of the time of George the First, by the gentlemen's perriwigs, and ladies' hoops; what is most interesting you already know by Ireland's book. If you value relics, I have a splinter of the leg of Shakspeare's chair for you.

The above scrutiny was put an end to by the coach which was to carry me to Warwick. The castle there is certainly very grand; but, I must confess, I was disappointed, after I had heard so much said of it: the fault perhaps was mine, in the imaginary picture I had painted with too strong colours.

After this, I could not think much of going to Kenilworth castle; but some part of Sunday being a day with me for taking exercise, and rambling, curiosity led me there; but how infinitely did I find I had undervalued it: though in ruins, and having lost the attraction which water once gave it, yet, in my mind, it far sur

one

passed Warwick. There are three or four styles of building observable in Kenilworth, heavy and grand, the early Norman; another light and elegant, Gothic; a third of the time of Elizabeth, which is the least attractive. I can say more of it when I see you.

In Warwick castle there is a very beautiful armoury. Of pictures, there are Vandyke's in great number, and very fine. Though I was free to range over the place, I had no time to do them justice, and many things will be forgotten, which I could have wished to impress on my memory. Amongst others, I met with what will puzzle you, I think, as much as it does me: in exploring the different apartments in the castle, chance led me to an obscure little room, in the upper part of one of the towers; just looking into it, and on the point of leaving it, I cast my eyes on the fireplace, and observed it to be covered with inscriptions in the Roman character; I

*

* These inscriptions appear to have been sepulchral, they are copied literally from the rubbings made from the stones themselves, on soft paper, as was the custom with Mr. C. Stothard. The borders of some of these stones are slightly ornamented, and they are of various dimensions, from four to five inches square.

PISTUS ET ARTEMIS

LIB. LIBERTABUSQ.

SUIS FECER.

found they were placed round like little Dutch tiles, to the number of seventeen or eighteen. These do not at all bear the appearance of forgeries, though their all being of marble indicates it. The inscriptions are cut in different styles, some much ruder than others. I mentioned this to the mayor of Warwick, (a little man, three feet and a half high, but very intelligent ;) he said