Bust of Shakspere at Stratford. ment of Shakspere, rendered, too, so doubly interesting by the likeness of him it has preserved. The monument was rather a showy one originally, having been fully coloured. The bust of the poet is in a recess between two black marble pillars: his hands rest on a cushion; the right holds a pen, the left a sheet of paper. The bust was executed by Gerard Johnson, a native of Holland, and, it is said, was thought by the friends of the poet to be a good likeness. It has the appearance of being a likeness, but it was not executed till some time after Shakspere's death. It is a careful work, but not a masterly one what would be the worth now of a real bust from the life by some Chantrey of that day? This represents him in his full manhood, a comely, pleasant man; but it wants the living look of genius. Originally it was coloured to represent life; early last century it was very carefully restored, the original colours being exactly reproduced. Towards the close of the century, Mr. Malone, the editor of Shakspere, obtained permission to bring it more into accordance with the superior taste of the day. Accordingly the colours were scraped off (some say the bust a little scraped too), and the whole was painted over with one uniform tint of white. It is a bitter evil that our national memorials are thus at the mercy of every ignorant and perverse blunderer: this is no isolated case of destruction or mutilation; it has been going on everywhere and on all kinds of ancient monuments for centuries, and it is going on still, and probably will continue so to do as long as there remain any to deface or to destroy. The original character of Shakspere's monument is gone for ever. It may be painted again, and a proposal was made to that effect some short time back, but there will always be extreme uncertainty about the correctness of the repainting, if, indeed, it be true that Malone had the old paint scraped off-but it would be worth while endeavouring to ascertain if any of the original colour remains under the present coating. The Shakspere Society has a painted bust, but there is no proof of its authenticity. Some gentleman, whose name I have forgotten, is said to have one also coloured from the original, but it is probably of no value. The original appearance of the monument is thus described, and it will be remembered that this bust was set up by those who knew him best :-" The eyes were of a light hazel, the hair and beard auburn. The dress consisted of a scarlet doublet, over which was a loose black gown without sleeves. The lower part of the cushion was of crimson colour, the upper part green, with gilt tassels." The inscription is too well known to need repetition. His remains rest under a plain freestone a few feet from the wall. The lines on this have been almost universally misprinted, and distorted in appearance by the admixture of large and small letters, it may therefore be as well to give them exactly as they occur: GOOD FREND FOR JESUS SAKE FORBEARE, BLESTE BE MAN AND CVRST BE HE MOVES MY BONES. This grim inscription, whoever placed it there, has had its effect. Shakspere's bones have been spared. CHAPTER XIII. THE TOWING PATH. HITHERTO it has been necessary to make our way along the river as best we could, with some risk of offending against the laws of trespass; the rest of our course is a smooth one. In 1637 Mr. William Sandys, of Fladbury, did at his cost and risk make the Avon navigable as far upwards as Stratfordupon-Avon. We in consequence shall have a path prepared for us the remainder of our journey. Rivers are seldom rendered more beautiful by being rendered navigable. Nor is the Avon-but, what is quite as rare, it is not rendered less so. Whatever alterations man made in nature's river have become old with time, or nature has so altered them that it again wears her livery. There are no straight cuts, no smooth banks, no stiff fence, no close horse-road. The navigation is conducted in a primitive fashion. Horses were not employed to draw the barges at first, nor are they now. At a huge heavy-laden craft five or six strong men may be seen tugging laboriously; a miserable service for human beings to be put to. These bargemen do not bear a very good name. They are said to be brutal in their minds as in their labour. It is a pity both cannot be reformed. Men bred up to such an employment-mere animals of draught in fact-cannot be expected to be much better than these are, and it is others, who have it in their power to remedy such a state of things, that are chiefly to blame. It is said that a horse-path could not be made along the riverside without an expensive process, as the owners of land would oppose it, which, with the large sum necessary to construct the way, is more than the somewhat limited traffic would be likely to repay. However it may be, it is a painful sight to see those men dragging their barge along this river, which from its many curves would be extremely hard work for horses. In the immediate vicinity of Stratford the Avon cannot be called beautiful. The meadows are flat, and only broken by clipped hedges and a few pollard willows. About a mile out of the town there is, however, a high bank on the left of the stream thick set with large trees, and not without its nightingales in their due season. This hill is one of the choicest spots for its views near Stratford; an excellent view of the town is obtained from its summit. The river is increased considerably about a mile and a half below Stratford by the junction of the Stow, and from thence there is an equal increase in beauty. An old, simple, rude lock is reached near Ludington, that would have been quite a treasure for one of those fine old Dutch painters, who would take the commonest objects and change them into a vision of beauty. A primitive-looking, clumsy lock, a rude wooden hut, and a foaming weir in the foreground and mid-distance, with a plain grey church-tower backed by tall trees beyond, and a sky filled with big black clouds teeming with moisture overhead, and diffusing wide and deep shadows, would have made |