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Preliminary observations—Preparations for a tour—Coach conversation—A breakfast and an American traveller—Route to Birmingham—A dinner—Road to Wolverhampton—Eccentric passengers—Lord Hill’s monument—Shrewsbury.

“Like brethren now do Welshmen still agree

In as much love as any men alive;

The friendship there and concord that I see

I doe compare to bees in honey hive,

Which keep in swarme, and hold together still,

Yet gladly showe to stranger great good will;

A courteous kinde of love in every place

A man may finde, in simple people’s face.”

CHURCHYARD.

Various, as the features of human nature, are the sources of human happiness. Some derive their choicest pleasure from historical accounts of men who lived in by-gone ages, and in re-creating events that have long since been engulphed in the abyss of time,—breaking down the barriers of intervening years, and mingling, in idea, with those who were once deemed the glorious of the earth, who now lie blended with its grossest atoms, or are confounded with the purer elements. Some, parching with the thirst of knowledge, seek to slake the fever of their minds with most laborious research; explore the utmost regions of the globe to find a shorter marine passage; or pierce into its depths to seek for treasures which only exist in their heated fancies. The vast ocean is fathomed to satisfy the ruling principle of their natures,—curiosity; and the realms of air traversed with the same motive to insure the universally desired result, self-gratification. While some, leaving the elements to perform the destined changes, are willing to agree with the poet, who in the warmth of his philanthropy exclaims: