“Shrowsbury,” as already noted, is the correct pronunciation of the name of Shropshire’s capital; a mode that still follows the structure of the Saxon place-name, “Scrobbesbyrig.” But it is not reasonable to suppose that the outlander who has never been to Shrewsbury should know all the rights and wrongs of the case, and though it may grate upon the Salopian to hear strangers talk of “Shroosbury,” he can have no possible remedy until he procures a reform in the spelling of the word. Meanwhile, the outlander aforesaid is often severely entreated for his solecism. Sometimes, too, he deserves all he gets, as for example when, somewhere about 1894, the author of “Pictures in Parliament” taunted a Shropshire member with using a “Salopian pronunciation which for some time hid from the ordinary member a knowledge that he was alluding to Shrewsbury.” It did _not_ hide the identity, and moreover, no Salopian ever did or could use any other pronunciation. Now, if that member had said “Salop” there would have been more room for criticism, although by that name Shrewsbury is just as often known in Shropshire. It may be presumed that every one knows the county to be often so-called, but it is a novelty for strangers in these gates to hear the word applied to the town. To this day the railway booking-clerks for at least twenty miles round Shrewsbury are commonly asked for tickets to “Salop,” and the very milestones adopt the same name. The Earls of Shrewsbury, on the other hand, are (it may not be generally known) miscalled by that title, and are really Earls of Salop. Not, let it be noted, of the town of Salop, but of the _county_; as seen in the original patent of nobility granted to the ancestral Talbot in 1442. But, although there is not the shadow of a warrant for their adoption of the “Shrewsbury” title, they appear never to have used any other, and in literature, from Shakespeare downwards, the same custom has always been observed. But why? Is it possible that the ill meaning of the French word “Salop” has forbidden the use?
The town presents a hold front from this side of the river, crossed in these peaceful times without let or hindrance by the English Bridge, a beautiful seven-arched stone structure built in 1774. It looks not a little foreign when viewed from the river-banks, with the osier-grown islands in mid-stream; houses and church spires clustered beyond, and the Castle turrets closing the view on the right; while the approach over the bridge discloses a street so steep that it fills the untravelled Londoner with as much astonishment as it did the lawyer come to Shrewsbury for the first time by the “Wonder” coach. “I think I’ll get off,” he said nervously, touching Hayward on the arm.