A Welcome Gift Some few years ago a reach of
land bordering the one unspoilt approach to Stratford-on-Avon was sold to a group of land • speculators, and a scene perhaps more eloquent of Shakespeare than any other bit of England was in danger of that dreadful thing basely called " development." The neighbourhood was appalled, and only with great difficulty and expense was the worst part of the threat kept at bay. Full compensation for that thoughtless sale has been paid to the name of the historian of Shakespeare's England by Sir Charles Trevelyan's gift of 13,000 acres in Northamptonshire to the National Trust. It is the most extensive gift yet made to this beneficent—and still private— organisation, and the house at Wallington, if not as old as Shakespeare, is gloriously English. A distinguished Dutchman of my acquaintance once said that the English country house recorded the highest point reached in human civilisation. It begins to look as if the National Trust was likely to be the sole representative of the exponents of that creation. Certainly the Trust is destined to become the greatest of country house land- lords. More power to its elbow.
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