Now was the time to attend to another duty. In passing a store we saw a notice, high up on a building, that here were made the original Shrewsbury cakes. We found that the recipe had been in use for over one hundred years, dating from 1760; that for as long a time the cakes had been there manufactured, and were now enjoying an enviable reputation the world over; and also that it was not an uncommon occurrence to send them by express to the United States. They are put up in round, blue, paper-covered, pasteboard boxes, about six inches in diameter and four inches deep, the cakes being of a nature that will bear transportation. We are soon in possession of them, but examination does not make us over-enthusiastic. If at home we should be even less so. They are thin cakes, say less than a quarter of an inch thick, and five inches in diameter,—apparently made without spice, but very sweet, fat, and crisp. As nearly as we could judge they are composed simply of flour, sugar, eggs, and butter, the latter in generous proportions. There's a deal in a name, and in the reputation gained through the sluggish lapse of a century's advertising and vigilant attention to business. Our young saleswoman is quite pert in her independence, and scorns the idea of selling or even hinting at a recipe for their manufacture; and we go away consoling ourselves with the idea that we have many times eaten similar things at home, and shall again, and animated by the conviction that,
"A rose by any other name would smell as sweet."
It may be our judgment is at fault, and that they are in possession of a precious as well as a remunerative secret.
Continuing our walk, we met with St. Mary's Church, which has every requirement of a cathedral except a bishop. Had we not seen churches of the kind before, we should have gone deeply into enthusiasm now; for here was a grand structure, thoroughly antique, with nave, choir, transepts, chapels, ancient monuments, and fine windows,—one very large, as good as any in all England, and six hundred years old. It is an inclination of the tourist to ejaculate at every new place, "This is the most interesting we have seen." We are at a loss to know why St. Mary's is not oftener spoken of as among the favored few, for it is all of that.
Shrewsbury, grand old town, full of interest, and antiquities we have not time to name, is itself a museum of antiquity. We know much more than we did when we first surveyed it, but travel and observation have not at all dimmed our admiration. At 11.10 a. m. we move on to our next place, which was the prototype of, and gave its name to, the Heart of our Massachusetts Commonwealth,
WORCESTER.
We arrived at 2 p. m. in a mild rain, the first we had been compelled to walk out in since our journey began. Valises deposited at a hotel, we were, as usual, soon out to survey the place. Like Shrewsbury, it is situated on the River Severn, which runs along the rear part of the place. It contains 33,221 inhabitants, was once a walled city, and vestiges of the walls remain. The Danes destroyed it and rebuilt it about 894, and it was burned by Hardicanute, the last of the Danish royal dynasty in England, in 1041. It suffered from frequent incursions of the Welsh, and was one of the principal cities of the ancient Britons. In the early period of the Saxon dynasty it became the second bishopric of Mercia. Having espoused the cause of Charles I. it was greatly troubled by the soldiers of Parliament; but on Sept. 3, 1651, the final battle, termed by Cromwell "a crowning mercy," was here fought by the Royalists under Charles on the one side, and Cromwell on the other, which resulted in routing the former, and ended in a defeat from which he never recovered.
Samuel Butler the poet, of "Hudibras" celebrity, received the rudimentary elements of his education in the schools here; and the celebrated Lord John Somers was born here in 1651.
The city is built mostly of brick, and, from the number of gardens and shade-trees, has a rural appearance. The river is crossed by an old stone bridge of several arches, and along the bank next the city proper, and below the land elevation, is a promenade, a mile or more long, following the curve of the river. In portions of the place an active business is done, and enterprise is everywhere manifest. Except that the buildings are of brick or stone, it well reminds one of our Massachusetts Worcester. A few of the houses are two or three centuries old.