There are many similar good things in the book, so I venture to point it out to the enterprising publishers of America as something worthy of—"conveying."
There is much discussion this morning as to the best route to take, there is so much to tempt us on either of several ways. Shall we go by Compton Verney (there is a pretty English name for you), Wellesbourn, and Hastings? or shall we take our way through Broughton Castle, Tadmarton, Scoalcliffe, Compton Wynyate, and Oxhill? In one way Wroxton Abbey, one of the real genuine baronial abbeys, if one may say so, and Edgehill. Surely no good Republican would miss that! But on the other route we shall see the stronghold of Lord Saye and Sele, older yet than Wroxton, and Compton Wynyate, older and finer than all—"a noble wreck in ruinous perfection," and a third route still finer than either as far as scenery is concerned. Such is this treasure house, this crowded grand old England, whose every mile boasts such attractions to win our love.
"Look where we may, we cannot err
in this delicious region—change of place
Producing change of beauty—ever new."
Every day's journey only proves to us how little of all there is to see we can see; how much we miss on the right and on the left. One might coach upon this Island every summer during his whole life and yet die leaving more of beauty and of interest to visit than all that he had been able to see. When one does not know how to spend a summer's holiday let him try this coaching life and thank heaven for a new world opened to him.
Wroxton Abbey.
We chose the first route, and whatever the others might have proved we are satisfied, for it is unanimously decided that in Wroxton Abbey we have seen our most interesting structure. Though it dates only from the beginning of the seventeenth century, it is a grand building and a fine example of the domestic architecture of the period. Its west front is a hundred and eighteen feet long, and its porch is an elegant specimen of the Italian decorated entrances of the time. Blenheim and Windsor are larger, but had we our choice we would take Wroxton in preference to either. With what interest did we wander through its quaint irregular chambers and inspect its treasures! James I. slept in this bed, Charles I. in that, and George IV. in another; this quilt is the work of Mary Queen of Scots—there is her name; Queen Elizabeth occupied this chamber during a visit, and King William this. Then the genuine old pictures, although in this department Blenheim stands unrivalled. Marlborough knew the adage that "to the victor belongs the spoils," and acted upon it too, for he had rare opportunities abroad to gather treasures. But for a realization of your most picturesque ideal of a great old English house, betake yourselves to Wroxton Abbey. Its little chapel, rich in very old oak carving, is in itself worth a journey to see.
A pretty story is told of the visit of James I. to the Abbey. The wife of Sir William Pope, the owner, had lately presented him with a daughter, and on the King's arrival the babe was brought to him bearing in her little hand a scroll containing the following verses:
"See this little mistres here,