FROM LONDON TO NEW YORK. 227 



!o be a proverb in England ; yet it is very certain 

 that the orchard is not the institution anywhere in 

 Britain that it is in this country, or so prominent a 

 feature in the landscape. The native apples are in- 

 ferior in size and quality, and are sold by the pound. 

 Pears were more abundant at the fruit stands, and 

 were of superior excellence and very cheap. 



I hope it will not be set down to any egotism of 

 my own, but rather to the effect upon an ardent pil- 

 grim of the associations of the place and its renown 

 in literature, that all my experience at Stratford seems 

 worthy of recording, and to be invested with a sort of 

 poetical interest even the fact that I walked up from 

 the station with a handsome young country-woman 

 who had chanced to occupy a seat in the same com- 

 partment of the car with me from Warwick, and who, 

 learning the nature of my visit, volunteered to show 

 me the Red Horse Inn, as her course led her that 

 way. We walked mostly in the middle of the street, 

 with our umbrellas hoisted, for it was raining slightly, 

 while a boy whom we found lying in wait for such a 

 chance trudged along in advance of us with my lug- 

 gage- 



At the Red Horse the pilgrim is in no danger of 

 having the charm and the poetical atmosphere with 

 which he has surrounded himself dispelled, but rather 

 enhanced and deepened, especially if he has the luck 

 I had, to find few other guests, and to fall into the 

 hands of one of those simple strawberrylike English 

 housemaids, who gives him a cozy, sung little parlor 



