the tiny city that might be described as the guts of England ought to be set in such rich but homely scenery as that of "leafy Warwickshire". It would not, maybe, be easy to see who initial applied the epithet "leafy" to the county, however it's thus happily descriptive, that one rarely thinks of the name of Warwickshire while not the addition; and therefore, additionally, it's troublesome to contemplate Stratford-upon-Avon without thinking of it as Shakespeare's Stratford. Voters of the place might be in a very position to think about it as a quite town entity, except for others it is a background to one of the worlds greatest men, to the supreme poet and dramatist whose genius commands the homage of the complete civilised world. It is a background crammed with beauty and of deep interest, a very little conventionalized, perhaps, from being a show-place. Few can be those of us "with souls therefore dead", to use Sir Walter Scott's acquainted phrase, as to be unmoved by wandering regarding spots related to the greatly admired nice.