That this hearty malediction was not unnecessary; that Shakspeare knew the freedoms that the worthy churchwardens, in their ignorant authority, were accustomed to use with the dead in his native place, is strikingly proved by the disgraceful liberty taken with the tomb of his daughter Susanna. Besides her arms, Hall impaling Shakspeare, and the following inscription still remaining:-Here lyeth ye body of Susanna, wife to John Hall, gent., the daughter of William Shakspeare, gent. She deceased ye 11th July A. D. 1649, aged 66,—there was originally this epitaph: Witty above her sexe; but that's not all; To weepe with her that wept with all? Them up with comforts cordiall. These verses were long ago obliterated to make way for another inscription, carved on the same stone, for Richard Watts of Ryhm Clifford, a person in no way related to the Shakspeare family, and who, no doubt, was buried in the grave of Mrs. Hall. Thus it is probable that had not Shakspeare taken care of his bones in his lifetime, they would long ago have been dug up, and added to the enormous pile which used to lie in the charnel-house, and which was seen, so late as the year 1793, by Mr. Ireland. After reading the Latin verses on the tomb of Ann Hathaway, we glance into the eastern corner, just by, and lo! the tomb of John a Combe, with his effigy stretched upon it. It is said that this man was a thorough-paced usurer. He resided at Welcome Lodge, and afterwards at the College; that is, a mansion so called, which, at the time that Stratford church was a collegiate church, was the residence of the chanting priests and choristers. This, after the dissolution by Henry VIII., was granted to the Earl of Warwick, afterwards Duke of Northumberland, and at his attainder by Queen Mary, was resumed by the crown; then let to Richard Coningsby, esq., and finally sold to John Combe, esq., who died there without family in 1614, two years before Shakspeare. It is said that, during Shakspeare's residence in the later years of his life at Stratford, John Combe and he were on very sociable terms, and Combe, presuming on Shakspeare's good nature and his own moneyed importance, frequently importuned the poet to write him an epitaph, which, to the old gentleman's vast indignation, he did thus: Ten in the hundred lies here engraved, If any one asks who lies in this tomb "Oho!" quoth the devil, "'t is my John a Combe!" As if to obviate the effect of the witty sarcasm of the inexorable poet, who would not give him any other passport to posterity than what he justly deserved, we find emblazoned not only on John a Combe's tomb, but on the gold-lettered tablets of the church, that he left by will, annually to be paid for ever: 17. for two sermons to be preached in this church; 67. 13s. 4d. "to buy ten gowndes for ten poore people ;" and 1007. to be let out to fifteen poor tradesmen of the borough, from three years to three years, at the rate of 50s. per annum, which increase was to be distributed to the inmates of the almshouse, -adding upon his tomb in large letters, VIRTUS POST FUNERA VIVIT. But, spite of all this; spite of thus charging on his tomb only two and a half instead of ten per cent.; spite of this emblazonment in marble and gold before the eyes of all churchgoers, the witty words of the poet, scattered only on the winds, not merely survive, but are in everybody's heart and mouth all round Stratford, and will be till the day of doom. This church stands pleasantly, between Stratford and the Avon, surrounded by trees, with a pleached avenue up to the porch door. The chancel is of beautiful architecture, which has lately been restored with great care. It also contains some grotesque and curious carving on the seats, which used to be occupied by the chanting priests, and now serve the clergy at visitations. No person who feels a lively interest in the history and haunts of Shakspeare, will think he has seen all that has drawn him to his native neighbourhood till he has seen Charlecote, the abode of that Sir Thomas Lucy who drove Shakspeare, for his deer stealing and his satirical sallies, from the obscurity of his original condition and calling, to London and universal fame. Charlecote lies on the banks of the Avon, about four miles from Stratford. It is a pleasant walk along a pleasant level road, through a country well shaded with large elms, and presenting on one hand rich meadows, and on the other as rich corn-lands. It was a fine autumn morning when I set off to walk there, and I pleased myself, as in going to Shottry, that I was treading the ground Shakspeare had trod many a time, and gazed on the same scenery, if not on the very identical objects. As I passed over the bridge, going out of the town, I said, "It was here that Shakspeare passed in his way to Charlecote, to affix those merry verses to Sir Thomas's parkgate, which so nettled the old knight; and on many another occasion paused to gaze up and down the quiet-flowing Avon, as I do now." The woods of Charlecote began to rise in view before me, and presently the house itself, in front of them, stood full in view, and made me exclaim, "Ay, there is the very place still where Shakspeare encountered the angry old knight in his hall." A foot-path led me across a field into the park, and I found myself at the entrance of a long avenue of limes, which led towards the house, but not to it. It was terminated by a figure, which appeared to beckon to you. As I advanced, I met a country lad; "So," I said, "this, I suppose, is where Shakspeare came for some of Sir Thomas Lucy's deer? You have heard of Shakspeare, I warrant you." ." "Yes," said the lad, "often and often, and yonder he is upon a deer that he took." "What Shakspeare?" "Yes, sir, Shakspeare." I went on towards the image, wondering at the oddity of taste which could induce the Lucys to place an image of Shakspeare there, and with the deer too! When I came near, behold it was a leaden statue of poor innocent Diana. She was in the |