From the antiquarian point of view, Shropshire is exceptionally interesting. Britons, Romans, Danes, Saxons and Normans, have all played their parts in moulding its early history, and have graven upon the natural features of the country indelible traces of their former domination. That Shropshire shared to the full in the drum and trumpet history of mediæval days, is attested by the ruined castles and strongholds to be met with on every hand. These we shall have occasion to refer to in the course of our rambles; so turn we now to the famous old town which forms the centre and focus of Salopian life. * * * * * Just about the middle of the county, islanded almost by a bold southward sweep of the Severn, stands Shrewsbury, the Pengwern of the old Welsh days, the Saxon Scrobbesbyrig; an ancient borough town and the capital of the district. Shrewsbury is a clean, cheerful, yet withal picturesque-looking city, where the tide of modern progress rolls to and fro along the steep old streets beside its ancient castle, past venerable parish churches and the quaint, half-timbered mansions of the ancienne noblesse. Hotels and lodging-houses are not far to seek, while highroads and lines of railway ramificate from Shrewsbury throughout the county; so the traveller who intends to explore the nooks and corners of the surrounding district cannot do better than take up his quarters for a time in the proud old city upon Severn side. The topography of Shrewsbury is tolerably simple. Encompassed on all sides save the north by the noble river Severn, the town spreads away up a gentle hill to the walls of its guardian castle. 'The Towne of Shrewesbury,' says John Leland, 'standeth on a Rocky Hill of Stone of a sad redde Earth, and Severne soe girdeth in all the Towne that, saving a little Peice, it were an Isle.' Right through the centre of the city, from south-east towards the west, runs the ancient highroad, or 'reddie way,' from London to North Wales; entering by way of the English Bridge, passing through the town under the names of Wyle Cop, High Street and Mardol, and emerging by the Welsh Bridge. At right angles to this thoroughfare lies Castle Street, leading up to the gates of the old Norman stronghold, and nowadays familiar to travellers as the road to the railway-station. Castle Street leads on to Pride Hill, one of the busiest arteries of the city, which in its turn is prolonged down St. John's Hill to the Quarry, a public park shaded by avenues of lofty lime trees, affording a pleasant stroll by Severn side. Here, some three centuries ago, Churchyard the Shropshire poet beheld: 'A space belowe to bait both Bull and Beare: For players, too, great roume, and place at will, And in the same a Cockpit, wondrous fayre, Besides, where men may wrestle in their fill.' [Illustration: SHREWSBURY SCHOOL.]