and also by a cheap rope-ferry, with the other side, on which are rural residences and public-entertainment grounds. When we speak of the River Severn our interest is intensified by the thought of a great historic fact. In 1428, by order of Clement VIII., the body of Wycliffe, which since 1415 had been buried in a dunghill, to which it had been consigned by order of the Council of Constance, was exhumed and burned to ashes, and these were thrown into the little River Swift, a tributary of the Avon. This gave birth to the fine old verse:-- The Avon to the Severn runs, The Severn to the sea; And Wycliffe's dust shall spread abroad Wide as the waters be. The river curves, and partly encircles the city; and on its banks we found the public park, and near it St. Chad's circular stone church, with its large square tower above a portico, crowned with a belfry, under which are great clock dials. The park is simply an ordinarily well-kept grass ground, of perhaps one third the size of Boston Common. It has three or four superb avenues of old lime-trees, and Quarry Walk is one of the finest in Europe. Tradition has it that all of these linden-trees were set out by one man, more than a century and a half ago. The ruins of Battlefield Church, now little appreciated, roofless and dilapidated, are four miles away. This is famous as being the place where _Sir John Falstaff_ "fought an hour by Shrewsbury Clock." The town was an important one as early as the twelfth century, and prominent at times as being the place of royal residence. Parliaments were held here in 1283 and in 1398. In 1403--ninety years before the discovery of America by Columbus--the famous Battle of Hotspur was fought near here, in which that distinguished soldier was killed. In 1277 it was the temporary residence of Edward I., and to this place he removed the King's Bench and Court of Exchequer during the Wars of the Roses. The inhabitants took part with the House of York, and it was the asylum of the queen of Edward IV. after having given birth to the princes Edward and Richard, the two children who are supposed to have been murdered in the Tower of London by Richard III. As will be seen, the place is intimately connected with historic facts. Remembrance of this contributes a charm not well expressed in words. As we walked over these streets, through which distinguished personages have walked, and by houses which intelligent people have occupied for a thousand years,--as we thought of many generations who here lived, labored, and died, their dust now mingling with the soil of its ancient burial-grounds, or resting in the tombs of its venerable churches, within sound of the same vesper bells to which we were listening at the close of this pleasant Sunday evening,--as these reflections took possession of our minds, the quiet sanctity of the Puritan New England Sunday was about us, and we felt that we were in a befitting place to