SIR HENRY DE COBHAM-THE RETURN TO GRAVESEND.

his marble effigy may be seen lying cross-legged, in memory of his exploits in the Holy Land, whither he went a soldier-pilgrim to fight- "For Jesu Christ on glorious Christian field,

Streaming the ensign of the Christian Cross,
Against black Pagans, Turks, and Saracens."

This monument, until very lately, laid in the southern chancel, known as the "Roundall Chapel," but now converted into a schoolroom for the young urchins of Shorne parish, as the opposite chancel has been turned into one for the girls; and from a pure desire to preserve it from further mutilation, we are told, the effigy was removed thence to the situation where it is at present placed.

If our companion takes a pride in old brasses, and has not had a surfeit for the day, he will find one or two worthy of his notice distributed about the pavement of Shorne church. In the churchyard, a couple of rather ancient yew trees are to be seen.

The road to the right of the windmill will conduct us to a field-path, which, with few changes, carries us direct into the Gravesend and Rochester road, about two miles from Gravesend. Here we intend to bide the night, and, with the early morn, will start off on a pilgrimage to the cathedral church and castle of Rochester, when we again beg the reader's company, promising him good store of conversation by the way, upon matters pertaining to old Bishop Gundulph, who first built both castle and cathedral; to the jovial pilgrims that in the quiet autumn of their years—

"Toward Canterbury woulden ride,"

and who tarried here to make their offerings at St. William's shrine; to the strife between the third Henry and his indomitable barons, and their memorable assault against the castle; to Shakspere and fat Sir John; to Richard Watts, and his somewhat eccentric benefaction, and to his entertainment of the "virgin queen;" to the commotions of the Commonwealth period, and to James the Second's extraordinary flight from hence; lastly, to deep-thinking, wit-loving Hogarth, and the humours of his five days' tour.

OW-A-DAYS the visitor to ROCHESTER, after

reaching Gravesend by the steam-boat, will be apt to prefer the newly-formed railroad for the remainder of the journey, to a five-miles walk along a dusty highway, occupying much time that might, perhaps, be more agreeably spent. This will be more especially the case if he be of Byron's opinion, that"There is nothing gives a man such spirits,

Leavening his blood as cayenne does a curry,

As going at full speed."

Still, if he be not obliged to confine his excursion within

the limits of a single day, he will, mayhap, tarry with us at Gravesend overnight, and proceed to Rochester early the following morning, on foot, when he shall become familiarised, by

GADS HILL-A SCENE FROM SHAKSPERE.

the way, with a spot not of historical, but of poetical celebrity— with Gads Hill, the scene of a supposititious yet "world renowned" exploit, in which Fat Jack Falstaff, Prince Hal, Poins, and the rest of that roguish crew, are the chief performers. After three miles are traversed, the reader will find himself at the brow of this hill, now known to universal fame from the muse of Shakspere. We have but to give the scene, and leave him to himself. Soon will the hill be peopled; soon will rise before the solitary spectator the carriers and their packhorses; the rich "franklin in the wild of Kent," that "hath brought three hundred marks with him in gold," coming up the hill at "four in the morning," just as "Charles's wain is over the new chimney!" while down in the sloping field, over the hill's brow, lurking behind the bushes that hedge in and skirt the road, lie perdue in visors, Falstaff, Bardolph, Gadshill, and Peto-watching for the "pilgrims going to Canterbury with rich offerings, and traders riding to London with fat purses,"-promised them by Poins. But a scene by Shakspere, in a Shaksperian locality, is worth a million of pages from the best guide-book ever written :—

SCENE II.-The road by Gads-hill.

Enter PRINCE HENRY and POINS; BARDOLPH and PETO at some distance. Poins. Come, shelter, shelter: I have removed Falstaff's horse, and he frets like a gummed velvet.

P. Hen. Stand close.

Enter FALSTAFF.

Fal. Poins! Poins, and be hanged! Poins!

P. Hen. Peace, ye fat-kidneyed rascal: what a brawling dost thou keep! Fal. Where's Poins, Hal?

P. Hen. He is walked up to the top of the hill: I'll go seek him.

[Pretends to seek POINS. Fal. I am accursed to rob in that thief's company: the rascal hath removed my horse, and tied him I know not where. If I travel but four foot by the square further afoot, I shall break my wind. Well, I doubt not but to die a fair death for all this, if I 'scape hanging for killing that rogue. I have forsworn his company hourly any time this two-and-twenty years; and yet I am bewitched with the rogue's company. If the rascal have not given me medicines to make me love him, I'll be hanged; it could not be else I have drunk medicines.-Poins! Hal! a plague upon you both!-Bardolph! Peto!-I'll starve ere I'll rob a foot further. An 't were not as good a deed as drink, to turn true man and leave these rogues, I am the veriest varlet that ever chewed with a tooth. Eight yards of uneven ground is threescore and ten miles afoot with me; and the stony-hearted villains know it well enough. A plague upon 't, when thieves cannot be

FALSTAFF-PRINCE HAL--POINS.

true to one another! [They whistle.] Whew! A plague upon you all! Give me my horse, you rogues; give me my horse, and be hanged.

P. Hen. Peace, ye fat-guts ! lie down : lay thine ear close to the ground, and list if thou canst hear the tread of travellers.

Fal. Have you any levers to lift me up again, being down! 'S blood, I'll not bear my own flesh so far afoot again, for all the coin in thy father's exchequer. What a plague mean you to colt me thus?

P. Hen. Thou liest, thou art not colted, thou art uncolted.

Fal. I pr'y thee, good Prince Hal, help me to my horse; good king's son. P. Hen. Out, you rogue! shall I be your ostler?

Fal. Go hang thyself in thy own heir-apparent garters! If I be ta'en, I'll peach for this. An I have not ballads made on you all, and sung to filthy tunes, let a cup of sack be my poison. When a jest is so forward, and afoot too, I hate it.

Gads. Stand!

Enter GADSHILL.

Gads. Case ye, case ye; on with your visors. There 's money of the King's coming down the hill: 't is going to the King's exchequer.

Fal. You lie, you rogue; 't is going to the King's tavern.

Gads. There's enough to make us all.

Fal. To be hanged.

P. Hen. Sirs, you four shall front them in the narrow lane: Ned Poins and

I will walk lower. If they 'scape from your encounter, then they light on us.

Peto. How many be there of them?

Gads. Some eight or ten.

Fal. Zounds! will they not rob us?

P. Hen. What, a coward, Sir John Paunch?

Fal. Indeed I am not John of Gaunt, your grandfather: but yet no coward, Hal.

P. Hen. Well, we leave that to the proof.

Poins. Sirrah Jack, thy horse stands behind the hedge: when thou need'st him, there thou shalt find him. Farewell, and stand fast.

Fal. Now cannot I strike him if I should be hanged!

P. Hen. Ned, where are our disguises?

Poins. Here, hard by; stand close.

[Exeunt PRINCE HENRY and POINS. Fal. Now, my masters, happy man be his dole, say I; every man to his business.

Enter TRAVELLERS.

1st Trav. Come, neighbour; the boy shall lead our horses down the hill: we'll walk afoot awhile, and ease our legs.

Thieves. Stand!

Trav. Jesu bless us!

Fal. Strike; down with them; cut the villains' throats! Ah, whoreson caterpillars! bacon-fed knaves! they hate us youth. Down with them: fleece them!

STROUD-ROCHESTER-THE CASTLE.

1st. Trav. O, we are undone, both we and ours, for ever!

Fal. Hang ye, gorbellied knaves: are ye undone? No, ye fat chuffs; I would your store were here! On, bacons, on! What, ye knaves, young men must live. You are grand-jurors, are ye! We'll jure ye, i' faith! [Exeunt FALSTAFF, &c., driving the Travellers out.

Re-enter PRINCE HENRY and POINS.

P. Hen. The thieves have bound the true men: now could thou and I rob the thieves and go merrily to London, it would be argument for a week, laughter for a month, and a good jest for ever.*

Poins. Stand close; I hear them coming.

Re-enter Thieves.

Fal. Come, ny masters, let us share, and then to horse before day. An the Prince and Poins be not two arrant cowards, there's no equity stirring : there's no more valour in that Poins than in a wild duck.

[As they are sharing, the PRINCE and POINS set upon them. FALSTAFF, after a blow or two, and the rest, run away, leaving their booty behind them.

P. Hen. Got with much ease: now merrily to horse,

The thieves are scattered, and possessed with fear

So strongly that they dare not meet each other:

Each takes his fellow for an officer,
Away, good Ned. Falstaff sweats to death,
And lards the lean earth as he walks along:
Wer't not for laughing, I should pity him.

[Exeunt.

Poins. How the rogue roared! Such is the scene at Gads Hill; and it is well worth a threemile walk from Gravesend, to realise it even in imagination.

Stroud is but a short distance onwards, and we pass quickly along its narrow street, with nothing on either hand to arrest our attention, till a sudden turn to the right brings us up with the ancient stone bridge that spans the Medway; when, before us, on the opposite shore, rising high above both City and Cathedral, stands the still more ancient Keep of ROCHESTER CASTLE, proudly erect, in spite of its wasted outline and discoloured walls, which have braved the buffetings of war and time for a period of eight hundred years, and still repose, with giant strength, upon their ancient foundations. There is so much impressive grandeur in this scene, that the most ordinary observer cannot pass it by with indifference. He will pause awhile to contemplate this mighty wreck of a remote age, and his mind will instinctively revert back

* As Mr. Mackay has happily remarked, "Lo! it has turned out even as the Prince predicted."