self, was an old shopkeeper, who resided nearly opposite to our inn (but whose name I have forgotten); he being in possession of the remains of the mulberry tree, together with tobacco stoppers, busts, wafer seals, &c., all carved from the wood, which (like the pieces of the real cross in catholic countries) have so multiplied that I much fear a dozen full-grown mulberry trees would scarcely suffice to produce the innumerable mementoes already extant.

Mr. Ireland having purchased some of these bagatelles, and a goblet which had certainly been carved many years back, and in all probability from the original tree, for which he gave an adequate price, we left this manufacturer of Shaksperian relics, and repaired to the church.

I think it necessary to state, that, although the events which took place at Stratford-on-Avon are arranged as if they had occupied no more than a single day, they notwithstanding kept Mr. Ireland a resident at that place for a week: during which period, I am fully convinced, not

one hour was spent but in the favourite pursuit; while the conversations at our dinners and suppers were still of Shakspeare, the immortal and divine Shakspeare.

STRATFORD CHURCH.

On entering the church, which contains the ashes of our immortal bard, it would be impossible for me to describe the thrill which then took possession of my soul.Mr. Ireland, as usual, began his delineations of the monuments of Shakspeare, sir Thomas Lucy and John Coombe, which are in the chancel of Stratford church, and were afterwards engraved for Mr. Ireland's River Avon. While occupied on these drawings, he greatly reprehended the folly of having coloured the face and dress of the bust of Shakspeare; which was intended to beautify it, whereas it would have been much more preferable to have left the stone of its proper colour.- Mr. Ireland also made application in order to be permitted to take a plaster cast from the bust; which request had been

granted, on a previous occasion, to Mr. Malone; but as it was necessary to petition the corporation, and much time and perseverance being requisite, the idea was wholly relinquished.

THE CHARNEL-HOUSE.

As Mr. Ireland was very particular in his delineations of the three monuments, which occupied him for a considerable time, I strolled about the church; and on returning to the spot where Mr. Ireland was engaged, being just opposite the door of the charnel-house, I pushed it open, when the largest collection of human bones I had ever beheld instantly struck my regard. On mentioning this circumstance to Mr. Ireland, he approached the spot, to be an eye-witness of the fact; when he immediately remarked, that, if any such collection of bones was there at the time of Shakspeare, it was by no means improbable that they inspired him with a horror at the idea of so many remnants of the dead being huddled together in a vast heap, and

that he in consequence caused the follow ing lines to be carved on the stone which covers his grave (being to the right of the charnel-house door, and directly under his bust), in order to deter any sacrilegious hand from removing his ashes. The lines, which are thus spelt and cut, run as follow:

LINES ON THE FLAT STONE COVERING SHAKSPEARE'S GRAVE.

Good Frend for Iefus SAKE forbeare

To diGG T-E Duft EncloAfed HERe
Blefe be T-E Man Ỷ fpares T-Es Stones
And curft be He Ỷ moves my Bones.

QUOTATION FROM HAMLET.

That our bard had a great antipathy to the removal of the relics of the dead is not improbable; since, in the gravediggers' scene in Hamlet, the following remarks are so appropriate to the subject, and highly expressive of his detestation of such conduct.

Ham. That scull had a tongue in it, and could sing

once!-How the knave jowls it to the ground, as if it were Cain's jaw-bone, that did the first murder!

This might be the pate of a politician, which this ass how o'erreaches; one that could circumvent God: might it not?

Hor. It might, my lord.

Ham. Or of a courtier; which could say, Good morrow, sweet lord! How dost thou, good lord? This might be my lord such-a-one's horse, when he meant to beg it might it not?

Hor. Ay, my lord.

Ham. Why, e'en so: and now my lady worm's! chapless, and knock'd about the muzzard with a sexton's spade! Here's fine revolution, an we had the trick to see't!-Did these bones cost no more the breeding, but to play at loggats with them? Mine ache to think on't.

NEW PLACE.

Aet V., Scene i.

Mr. Ireland visited the site of the ground whereon stood Shakspeare's mansion, which was called New Place, and was burned down at the great fire which took place at Stratford-on-Avon, and is now walled round. It was in the garden belonging to these premises that the mulberry tree stood; which was felled, many years since, by its then churlish owner, who conceived himself too much importuned by the cu