was some great soldier, who had lost it in the wars; but it turned out, that the leg of the figure, and not that of the living knight, had been accidentally broken off, and replaced by an artist of this place. Observing a garter, the badge of the order of knights of the garter, remaining upon the leg, the artist carved another on the wooden one, exactly like it, so that this is, beyond doubt, the best gartered knight in all England. Hereford, although its name is quite familiar to our American ears, is but an insignificant place, containing not more than seven thousand inhabitants. As an ancient frontier town between England and Wales, it has however derived historical consequence, from having been overrun, plundered, taken and retaken by Welsh and English marauding princes and border-barons. Its castle was once reputed of great strength, but there is scarcely a vestige of it remaining, although its adjacent walks, along the river, being kept in good order, form a most agreeable promenade. Hereford is one of the most orthodox places in England; so much so, that when I was there, the Library Association in that town actually talked of making an Auto de Fe of Hume, Gibbon, and some other writers, who have marvellously disturbed the fat dignitaries of the church! I am not jesting, upon my word, and from this and other indications, begin to have serious doubts, whether the nineteenth century will not turn out in the end almost as enlightened as the ninth.

Being now on the borders of the renowned land of picturesque, I left my vehicle, which, whether buggy, cart, or coach and six, posterity will never know from me. I equipped myself, and the professor of English tongues I spoke of in my last, with each a horse, that I might be the more free to indulge my whim or curiosity, by deviating into holes and cor

ners. We set forth one fine morning, that is to say, English fine; for though the old copper sun occasionally showed a face about the colour of one of our Indians, still, as it only misted a little, but did not rain, by the constitution of England it was entitled to the privileges of a fine day.

The first objects which, in going out of town, attracted my notice, were a dozen or two of beggars, who form a considerable feature of the picturesque in many of the English landscapes, I assure you. Having distanced these, I proceeded towards a noble old place, called Holme Lacy, belonging to the Duke of Norfolk, for the purpose of reconnoitring a scene, once a favourite resort of Pope. The situation is just fit for a poet; quiet, soft, and secluded, in the midst of rural beauties. It was once the property of the ancient family of Scudamore, and the last viscount was an intimate friend of the poet, who wrote a great deal in these shades. By the aid of that key which unlocks the flinty hearts of every serving-man and serving-maid in the kingdom, I was permitted to enter the grounds and ramble about almost at pleasure. I always feel like a pilgrim visiting the shrine of a tutelary saint, in such scenes, hallowed by such associations-there is something so blameless, so pure, so spiritual in the fame of literary genius, more especially poetical inspiration. The harp of the true poet, when tuned to virtuous feeling, is like the harp of the angels, accompanied by the song of the cherubim and seraphim.

From hence, I pursued my devious course to Ross, and crossed a steep hill, where the bold scenery of this region began to make its appearance; some distance beyond, I passed Harewood, an old seat. In the adjoining forest, is the scene of the bloody tragedy of Elfrida, which I refrain from harping upon, because we have been lately

so stultified with history, vamped up in romance and poetry, that no more is necessary at present. I think, however, it would be no bad subject for the "Great Unknown.” Next came we to the ruins of an old castle, which I visited for no other reason, than because it was once the property of Arthur Grey, renowned for his Irish wars, but still more as the friend and benefactor of Spenser, who accompanied him to Ireland, as his secretary, and received from him a grant of three thousand acres of land there. Spenser has expressed his gratitude in a sonnet prefixed to the Fairy Queen. Very little of this castle now remains. It has passed from the Greys; but long after a stone or a vestige is to be seen, the spot will be remembered and known, as connected with the benefactor of this charming poet.

Leaving Wilton Castle on the right, I proceeded some distance, three or four miles perhaps, without being particularly struck with any features in the landscape. Some fishermen, catching trout in little wicker-basket boats, attracted my notice, however. When I came to Goodrich Castle, I was so struck with its venerable aspect, covered half over with green moss, that I determined once for all to invade this strong hold, and give you one single description, which is to satisfy you for the rest of your life. It is placed on a fine eminence, overlooking the river, and is surrounded by a deep trench, some fifty feet wide, as I should judge, cut out of the solid rock. The first apartment, inside the gate, is a small room to the left, with an ornamental window, and large stone chalice for holding the holy water. From hence it has been sagely concluded, that this was the chapel, of which I have not the least doubt. A mass of ruins directly opposite, with an octagon column rising out of them, indicates the ancient Baronial Hall, where they no doubt held mortal carousals in the time of

William Marshall, Gilbert Talbot, and Harry Grey, successively possessors of the castle. A large square tower remains, flaunting amidst its decay, in moss and clambering vines, that almost make it look gay. This is said to have been built by an Irish Macbeth, a prisoner, who worked out his freedom, and that of his son, by building this enor mous keep. Inside of this are mildewed, damp, and dreary walls, festooned with cobwebs, in which I observed certain old spiders that came over with William the conqueror.

At the iron works, known by the name of Bishop's Wood, the scenery waxed more and more beautiful. At Bicknor I began to comprehend that there was some little reason for the raptures of picturesque tourists, when speaking of the river Wye. Rocks of the boldest magnitude, dressed out in verdure, at every little projection or crevice, and hanging over the water, give a character of grandeur to the scenery, while the narrowness of the stream itself contributes to the sublime, by giving a comparative altitude to the precipices. You tell me you lately sailed up the Hudson River in the state of New York, and observed, how the effect of one magnificent feature of sublimity is diminished by the grandeur and immensity of another. The Palisades, as they are called, are much higher, and in every way more noble than the cliffs of the Wye, but the wideness of the Hudson takes from them more than half their effect, while the narrow channel of the Wye adds to those I am speaking of in the same or a greater proportion. This remark may be extended to almost all our scenery; the very vastness of the constituents of our landscapes diminishes the effect, not only of the different parts, but of the whole combined. I was more particularly struck with the truth of this in viewing parts of Wales, where, owing to the proximity of objects,

the narrowness of glens, and the disposition of rocks, the highest effect of sublimity was produced by objects comparatively diminutive.

Among the wonders of this region, are Tintern Abbey, Chepstowe Castle, and Piercefield, the latter, one of the most famous Show-Places in England. The abbey, to my mind, is more remarkable for the exquisite beauty and finish of its remaining parts, than for its situation, which is low, and does not command a view of the river, except from above. It is also surrounded by cottages, inhabited by workmen belonging to neighbouring iron works, the din of whose hammers dist rbs, of an evening, the repose of the scene. But the inside is indescribably fine, and cannot be done justice to by any other medium than that of actual inspection. All I shall say is, that as a mere ruin, it exceeds any thing I have seen since, or ever saw before. Its history is not particularly interesting. It was, according to the fashion of the age, endowed by various benefactions in the elder times, from pious, or profligate noblemen, who made their peace with heaven by enriching the church; and when the fashion changed, it was suppressed and deprived of its revenues, which were shared again among the nobility from whose munificence or fears they were first obtained. It is now, if I recollect right, the property of the Duke of Beaufort, who takes pains to prevent its further decay.

The scenery in the neighbourhood of Chepstowe Castle is equal to any on the Wye. A bridge, which, whether handsome or not, is always a good object in a landscape, crosses near it, below which, on the opposite side, is a range of cliffs rising directly out of the water, on whose sides the ive and the moss luxuriate, and over whose top the verdure nods. But i must try and elevate myself to the proper degree of picturesque sublimity, and talk a