234 AN OCTOBER ABROAD. 



with a dense hoar-frost. The great church, as I ap- 

 proached it, loomed up under the sun through a bank 

 of blue mist. The Avon was like glass, with little 

 wraiths of vapor clinging here and there to its sur- 

 face. Two white swans stood on its banks in front 

 of the church, and, without regarding the mirror that 

 so drew my eye, preened their plumage ; while farther 

 up, a piebald cow reached down for some grass under 

 the brink where the frost had not settled, and a pie- 

 bald cow in the river reached up for the same morsel. 

 Eooks and crows and jackdaws were noisy in the 

 trees overhead and about the church spire. I stood 

 a long while musing upon the scene. 



At the birthplace of the poet, the keeper, an elderly 

 woman, shivered with cold as she showed me about. 

 The primitive, home-made appearance of things, the 

 stone floor much worn and broken, the rude oak 

 beams and doors, the leaden sash with the little win- 

 dow panes scratched full of names, among others that 

 of Walter Scott, the great chimneys where quite a 

 family could literally sit in the chimney corner, etc., 

 were what I expected to see, and looked very human 

 and good. It is impossible to associate anything but 

 sterling qualities and simple, healthful characters 

 with these early English birthplaces. They are nests 

 built with faithfulness and affection, and through them 

 one seems to get a glimpse of devouter, sturdier 

 times. 



From Stratford I went back to "Warwick, thence 

 to Birmingham, thence to Shrewsbury, thence to 



