Birmingham age-herald., 1895-07-21
PAUL PRY" ABROAD.
AT "QUEEN AND CASTLE" WENTWORTH
Visions of the Sweet, lll-Fated Amy Robsart. A Drive to Stratford-on- E
 Avon.

Stratford-on-Avon, July 5.-We dined on the glorious night of July at "The Queen and Castle Inn" at Wentworth, in a quaint and tiny little old house just across from the castle. As we finished we filled our glasses with sparkling water (warm) and drank toast in honor of the day-true Americans, though so far from home From our tiny little oozy bed chamber we peered through the moonlight across the way at the castle, and in fancy saw the revels and heard the laughter of the gay courtiers and win> some Amy Robsart stealing in at the very old porter's lodge "It was time when the poetry of earth makes itself felt on the sensitive soul like ravishing music that has no sound. The glris alarmed the house by announcing that some one was looking in their window, but we soothed() them by saying It was only Varney's spirit paying them visit.
 We arose early on the 9th to Vislt Ken ilworth castle, and by some good luck they admitted us at 5, instead ot waiting until g, which gave us an early start TOT a drive on the famous and beautiful GOV entry road It was with steps of awe and impressive solemnity that we entered the gates beside the very old lodge In good preservation and walked among the love Hest of flower gardens to the castle. IL is entirely a ruin, though on the Slte or an old Roman castle. In the eleventh century the Norman keep and ktcnens were built and the attendant cracked or a piece of old Roman brick of three col ors and gave me. Still it was all the more impressive, being a ruin and so quantity overgroWn with ivy the ivy or ages oI growth. The attendant points out sweet Amy's tower and chamber ana as one looks at the gloomy brown stone walls and we'll preserved window openings how one in fancy can fill in the picture and the banquet hall where Elizabeth was entertained, with the massive fire place openings on either slde, ana Queen EhZabeth's chamber, wlth nldsslVe stone window seats, where we feel sure she must have sat. But oh! the dungeons, what horrors they did recall, and Mort- mer's dungeon was hideous place, put we mounted the strong tower pulit py John of Gauht, and viewed the country over. ,
 Peaceful, graceful, complete English country life, the softest tints ana colors prevail over the landscape, ana tHe hdw- thorn is an attractive element III tne scenery that adds so much to the plctur
 esuueness and the miles and miles or meadow traversed by these green and blooming hedgerows, gives the country charm quite incommunicable; but, ohl to think it was only some seventy years ago that a man of middle age, with ioIty forehead and a keen, gray eye, sngntly lame, but withal active, entered us Bdte- house and passed many silent hours With in it's walls. That man was waiter Scoll'
 There was the ruined place, hence forward to be sanctified, the loren oI genius again lighted up the spacious pile and ones imagination leaves notn- ing to be added Even the old London road is alive with the pageantry or pro sessions. Much more impressive was Wentworth castle as ruin than War wick in all it's regal stronghold ana glory. It is not that the Coventry road is more beautiful than our American scenery, but I think Goethe expresses the mean tng of it when he said We find in Rome only what we carry there," and so 1t IS along the Warwickshire road; how our hearts burn as we remember old historic personages, whom we admire or whose weaknesses and foibles are hallowed and softened by the passing years. A monu- ment marks the place where Piers Cav eSton was murdered, and on the rlght our first sight of the silver Avon was the old mill, moss covered and ancient, but still running near the southern home of the Earl of Northumberland, and Harry Hotspur appears before our vision in all his fiery youth.
 Lady Brook was at Warwick castle and by our usual good luck the whole house was in gala attire, as the Countess of Warwick entertained in the afternoon a large number of one of her reading So- cieties Each room was in perfect gala attire and profusely decorated with the most elaborate of flowers. Here Is found a splendid collection of Vandykes and one of Rubens masterpieces We climbed in little circular steps up and up until we reached the top, fainting and exhausted, but oh such splendid outlook as we gazed past Caesars tower over the vast country round and swept backwards in fancy to ancient warfare days. War fx.ly ic.i h, now overgrown with grass the portcuilis, walls, keep and all, still one must sep- arate some modern furnishings and restoratives from the old time. The two cedars brought from Lebanon by the cru saders and planted just back of the castle were blown down some months ago dur ing tremendous storm.
 We proceeded on our carriage drive to Stratford-on-Avon, eight miles away. Richard Grant White in one of his books on England writes of his visit to Strat- ford and regrets dreadfully having ever visited the place, advising all lovers of Shakespeare to stay away and l thought he was wonderfully prosaic and disil- lusioning. Then William Winter writes with so much beauty and sentiment of the hallowed place that his words enlisted my fancy. You can sit in an antique chair, in corner of this room if you like and think unutterable things. There is, certainly, no word that can even remotely suggest the feeling with which you are there overwhelmed" Of course we went first to the Red Horse inn, made famous by our own Washington Irving. saw his sitting room and No. 15, his bedroom, sat in his chair and looked over many quaint relics and associations--had very dain- ty luncheon too. Then we started for Henley street and much to my own dis gust walked right by the house totally unaware of it's hallowed associations; but my whole Stratford trip was a sad dis appointment, and I do say if you love Shakespeare never visit Stratford. ln- stead of finding all my imaginations had pictured and fancled, one really finds one of the busiest little cities in the kingdom, with Shakespeare birthplace crowded in on one side or Henley street; rushes across the town through traffic filled streets to Holy Trinity where he is buried in the grave yard below, where the westering sun burns on the messy stones lean- ing this way and that in sweet and or derly confusion-and on the peaceful avenue of Times and on the furnished