Colonel John Benbow, who had joined the king in Shrewsbury in September, 1642, was in 1651 condemned by Court Martial at Chester for corresponding with the king. He was sentenced to death, and the sentence was carried out on the 15th of October, 1651, in the Cabbage Garden, afterwards the Bowling Green, near the Castle, Shrewsbury. On the 16th the body was buried in St. Chad’s churchyard (old St. Chad’s). The stone which marked his grave was re-cut in the year 1740 at the expense of Mr. Scott, of Betton, “to perpetuate his memory.” Charles II., visited Shrewsbury. Struck with surprise at the width and cleanliness of the streets, he expressed, a wish to elevate it into a city. The burgesses, who appear to have left their first love, and to have degenerated in their affections for kings, refused his offer in such an independent spirit that they obtained for themselves the designation of “Proud Salopians”—a designation which is often applied to us as a term indicating that we are haughty, stiff, conceited. Is there not something honourable in it? The title means that once upon a time we performed the courageous feat of declining the wish of a king—we said “no” to a sovereign—we rejected the proffered compliment of being exalted by a monarch. Strange but re-assuring phenomenon from the descendants of the zealots of Richard II., and from the devotees of Charles I.! The last royal visit to Shrewsbury—and, as we have seen, there was a number of them, chiefly of either a disturbing or a worthless sort—was made by James II. in August, 1687. Of course, the indispensable feasting, which is a fundamental element in our glorious British Constitution, was held in great style. A magnificent court was kept in the Council House on August 25th; and the next day the King left this town for Whitchurch. With his departure end our stories of the calls of kings on their subjects at Shrewsbury. HISTORICAL GUIDE THROUGH THE TOWN. The objects of historical interest in Shrewsbury are most numerous. We come upon them in every street. We meet them at every corner. We hear the voices of the past everywhere about us. We find ourselves associated with something that had a beginning in centuries gone by—something that has stood the storms of ages and been spared in the disturbances of the centuries—something that is rich in memories of old—something connected with circumstances or events which, if we only thought of them, would furnish us with lessons in stones, and make our daily travelling of the streets an entertainment. Shrewsbury, of course, is not, in this respect, an exceptional town; but it is wealthy beyond most others. We cannot notice at elaborate length the remaining “_Memorials and things of fame_ _That do renown this city_;” but let us rapidly run over the town in as straight a course as its divergent streets permit. Starting from the Railway Station we see THE CASTLE.