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THE ROYAL RIVER: The Thames from 

Source to Sea. with several Hundred Original 
Illustrations. Original Edition, £2 2s. 

'■ Its illustrations surjjass all that have previously adorned any lx>ok on 
tlic sanie subject " — Daily Teltgraph. 

RIVERS OF THE EAST COAST, with numerous 

hi;;hly finished Engravings. Original Eailioii. £2 2S. 

" We have read willi the greatest interest ' The Rivers of the E;i5t Coast 
of Great Britain." All the articles are by pleasant writers, and the pages are 
lavishly illustrated by engravings after photographs."— TA^ Tiints. 

Popular Editions of the aho-.t can also be obtained. 
C.XSSKLI, & COMPANY, LlMiTtD, London; Paris ,;.i,/ .\l,U>,^„rne. 



Rivers of Great Britain 









THE SOUTHERN (^HALK STREAMS.— /;,,/ wiu.i.xM skxiou. 

(ionoral Clinractiristics— The Caxteuiiiuv Stoik and its liranchos : A^hl'urd and .laL-k (.':u1l- llurlim and l.yuiinf^o — 
Canttibuiy— Fiirdwiih and Izaak 'Waltoii — Islo of Thaiiet— Jlinstcr. Tlie Lesseii Stoik: " lioiiiiu! IJidund" 
— Sandwich. The BuEDE. Thf Kothek: IJodiam — Isle i>f O.xncy — \Vin<helsea— Suafoid. Tho Cickmkuk : Alfiiston 
and Lullintctun. The Oise : St. Livnaid's Forest — FKtching— JIaiosiiild— Lpwos. TheAimt: Uramlirr — Shoro- 
ham. ITie Auvs : AniLfik'V — jVrundcl— liittUhanipton. llami)shu-o Uiveis— The Ahle: The Jleon Di.sfiiot— Wiekhani 
and the Lishop-lUuldL-r — 'i'it<hHild. Tho Jtchen : A Curious E.xample of Instinct — Alroslurd I'ond— t'lieriton — 
Tichhovne- The Winnal Keache.s— AVinclustei- and Iziiak Walton— St. Cross— St. Catherine's Hill— Soulhanil>ton. 
'J'he Test : Kumsey and it.s Alibey. Tho Beailieu : Heaulieii Ahhey. The L'imington and the JIehina — The 
IIami'shike Avon and the Stoiu; Chiistchurch- Salisbiuy — Wimborne. The Fkome: Dorchester — Mr. Hardy's 
Coiuitry — Poole Harbour ............. 

RIVERS OF DEVON.— /-v ii. w. iiVTCiiixas. 

General Characteristics— Sources of the Devon Streams : Exmoor and Dartmoor. The Otteu : Ottery Saint Mary 
and Samuel Taylor Coleridge. Exmoor Streams : — Tho Exe : Its Source in The Chains — Th<' Barle— 'Ilie Bathcnn 
—Tiverton and "Peter Blundell— Bickleigh Bridge and tho " King of the (lipsies "— The Culm— Exeter— Counti's.s 
"Weir — Exn\i>iith. The Lyx : Oareford — The Doone Coimtry— Malmsmcad — Watersmeet— I.yndale— liynton and 
Lvnmouth. Dartmoor Streams : — The Teigx : Wallabrook— Chagford — Finglc Bridge — Chudleigh — Thi^ Bovey — 
Newton Abbdt—Teignmouth. The Dart: Ilolne Chase— Buckfast Abbey— Dartington Hall -Totnes— The I.oWer 
Reaches — Dartmouth. The Tavy. The Taw: Oxenham and its Legend — Barnstaple — Lund v. The Tokkidoe: 
The Ukemeiit-tireat Toningtmi— Bideford— Ilubliastone. Tho Avon, Erme, and Yealm. The Plym : Dewer- 
stone — The Meavy and Plymouth Leat — I'lympton St. Mary and Phiiipton Earl — Thi' Thrci; Towns 

RIVERS OF CORNWALL.— /yy iiiau ir. smoxG. 

The Slinor Streams of Cornwall — The Tamau : Woolley Barrows — Morwellham and "VVeir Head— Morwell Kocks — 
Harewood — Calstock — Cotehele — Pentillie — Confluence with the Tavy — Saltash — The Hamoaze. The Fowev : A 
Change of Name — St. Neot — Lostwitliiel — Fowey. The B'al : Fenton Fal — Tregouy — Truro — Tregothnau- Falmouth 

THE PARRET AND THE LOWER AVON.— i?y jiuan w. smoxa. 

The Pauket : Its Source— Miu-heluey Abbey— The Tone and Taimton— Athelney Island and Alfred the Great— Sedgemocr 
— Briditwater — Bm'nham. T'he Lower Avox : Escourt Park — Jlalmcsbury — Chipjienham — Melksham— Biadford-ipu- 
Avon— Bath— The Frome— Beau at Bath— The Abbey Church— Bristol— St. Mary Kedcliffe :ind 
Chattertou — The Cathedral — " The Chasm " — CUfton Suspension Bridgi — The Lower Keaches — Avonnu>uth 

THE SEVERN. — ji,j th- iiev. puofessou iioxxjcy, n.s,-., f.u.s. 

CHAPTER I. — From the Source to Tewkeshiry. — Bii-thplace of the Severn — Plinlimmon— Blaenhafren — Llanidloes! — 
Cairsws — Newtown — Montgomery — Welshpool— Powys Castle — The Breidden Hills — The Vyrnwy— Distant Views — 
Shrewsbury — Haughmond Hill —The Caradoc Hills— Atcham — Wroxeter— Condover — The" Wrekin — Benthall and 
Weulock "Edges— Buildwas Abbey— Coalbrook Dale— Ironbridge— Broseley and BentbiU—Coalport— Bridgnorth — 
Quatford— Forest of Wyre — Bewdley-Stourport — Worcester — The Teme — Ludlow — Tewkesbury 

CHAPTER II.— The UiTEU ou Warwickshire Avon.— The Watershed of Central Eneland—Naseby— Rugby— The Swift 
— Lutterworth and Widif— Stoneleigh Abbey and Kenihvorth Castle — (Juy's Cliff— The Leam— Warwick and ils 
Castle — Stratford-ou-Avon and its Shakespeare Associations — Evesham — Pershore — Tewkesbury 

CHAPTER III. — From Tewkesbury to the Sea.— Deerhurst— Gloucester— The " Bore "—May Hill— Srinsterworth- 
Westbury-on-Sevcrn — Newnham — Berkeley Castle — I^dney — Sharpness ^The Severn Tunnel — The Estuary — .\ 

A'anished River 

THE WYE. — Jill E. II. SAIIKI.. 

'The Notcui.Mis Hill of Pliulinnuon "— The Slnmghold of Owen Glendowcr — Llaiigurig — Rliavailer Gwv Llvn- 
fJwjni—The Elan, the Khun, and the Yrfon— lilandriiuiod— Builth— Abercdw and the Prince of Wal.s— 
Hav— Clifford Ca.slle and the Fair Rosamond— llenford— 'Hie Lug— " The AVonder "— R..SS and .John Kvrle— 
(ioodrich Ca.stle— Coldwell Rocks -Svinomrs Vat -Monmonlh— The Monnow. the Dore, and the llonddu— Woi-ds- 
wortli's Great Ode— Tintern Abbi-y— The Wyndditf— Chepstow— The Lower Reaches ..... 

THE rSK.--//y /■;. w. smiel. 

rhc' P.laik Mountains -Treca-stle-'llu' Gifer— P.recon— Thi' Brecknock Beacons- Criikh.. will .MierL'tivenny- I'.sk— Caerleoii 
and the Arthurian Legend— Chlistchurch-Newport ......... 


RIVERS OF SOUTH WALES— /iy r/iAiif.ES kdwaiides. t 

It, ■■ )• n Tvi. r,"!'.-- ,■ I T -T T. iiu, r.riilT I:. -. r\..;i- -M. illivT— "Dk- DowLiis Stc-<'1 anil In.n 

- " ' ■ ■ iiff niid its Caslle. Tlu- Nf.ath : 

:.<_n„. Svihnant— I'.mt Nralli 

I ' ..ks— Morri'stnn Castl> — t^vransfsi 

-l.h-l.u hawr. Thi' Towv : Ystnidfliii - 

-■..■l.--(.'animrth.n I5ar. 'Hio Tafk : Milfurd 

i amlOM Milf..r.l-Havprfoi4wi-st. ThoTElFi: 

^!I ill Klnii A't-v-N'" '■•'■ I k.Im^- < ■ i. mii — ' ni /m ' ' ■ ^ «t»iiii : The I'iiikt Watti-s— Abor\-st«ith 

RIVERS OF NORTH WALES.— ^y .i.iy?o.v watso.v. 

CIlM'in I Till I> VM 11.1 I'.-WM 111 AU«M\ II t;l..ri.-s of n Wet Aiitumn in North Wales. Tlie Povey : 
' :h. llie Pysv.nm: Tal-v-U%ii— The "Bird Kock"— 

; \VaIk-Itol;.'ell(V- rmii.iie Walk— The Esluan — 
i .Shell, y—Tlie Trieth Bach . . - • 

CIIVITKK It -Tub Swo!«t. tiie 0(iwrx. the Coxwat — The Seioxi : LlanUris Pass-Ukes Peris and Padarn— Dol- 
, i^_ ,-,.•', T- < «•, -imr- MfiKT •■•irmnon and it» Castle. The Ogwex : Llvn Ojrwen and Llyn Idwal— Bethesda— 

' ' iris— Moel Si«lK)d—Pont-y-C\-finjr— Swallow Falls— The Minei-s' Bridpe— 

•I -P,mt-v-Pant. The JIachxo and its Fall. The Conway : Fairy Ulen— 
:,iw— Conway Marsh— Conway Cii.«tle and Town— Deganwy — Llandudno 

Cll A , „ ,M. TiiF Ittt — Tlie Clwvi. : Khvl-Khiid.ilan C.^tle— llie Elwv-A Welsh Gretna Gi-oen- 

Kuthin llie 1>fe: Rila Like- Corwen— Vale of LlanfroUen and Valle Crueis Ahhcy— Dma.s 

-0,,rk (i--!. iiid Wvi.n-tay — ni.Alyn—Iviton Hall— Che-ter— Flint . . . • 

■J'HE MEliSEY.— y/;/ ir. x <AMi:itu\. 

A MrJi-m Kivor— n<'ri«Tition»- The Tame, th.- (Jovt, and the Etherow— Stoekjiort— Xorthendcn— The IrwcU and its 
FriiliTu- Muu'ht^er mid Snlfonl 'JTie Shii. Canal— Bridpes over the Irwell—Ordsall—Eeeles— Barton— Warburton— 
Iri«m— WaninBlon— Ixitchfonl Uimc-ni and Wiilnes— The Weaver— Ea.stham Locks— Liver|Kxd and it-s Gi-owlh 
— lU Itorkii and yiinys— Birkeiihwid and its Shi)>buildiDg Yanls— New Brighton— Pereh Rock Lighthouse . 

KIVEItS OF l..\N(ASHli;i-: AN1> L.\KEL.\NI» — //-/ »ii.LiA}r sr-xron. 

A ! :i.Bi.F.: lUl.t.l.h.«d^ Survival of Old Traditions— IleUifield— The 

( ■<,Il,.p — Tlie < '.ilder— Biimlev— Town, l.v Hall Pieston— Its Develojiment as a I'ort. Tile 

'n,. I.t sv : Kii ki.v I^iiisdale— The Gnta and the Wenniiig— Honihy Ca.stle— I^anraster— 

I'lverslon in C<«ehing Uays-Shiftin;: Sands. Tlie Kent : Kentmen- 

• I MAY and the Bhatmay. VJrasMiire and Wonlsworth — l.'vdal Water— 

•Water. Ill- Lkves : Newl.v Bridge— The F>tnar>-. TheCuAKF: 

Mr. Kuskin. The Diimox . Wordsworth's .Sonnets, llie and 

••r. The Ell ex: Egremont Castle. The Dekwext: The Vale of St. 

I a-llirigg to|>— D< rwentwiiter 


Th" Firth— A S»ift Tide. The Ei.ks : The Eamont - Ed.n Hall -Annalhwaile— John Skelton— Wethcral and Coihy 
< .-t1. Tl.. I .M. V. iirl lip I'.rMil I.I. \-i .k. ('[istle-Carlisle. its Hoinanee and Histor^•— .Vrrrt /'rtWwm— " Kinmont 

T , of .Ja. ohitcs- 'Hii? Carlisle of To-day— llie Sark— (iretna Green. 

'Hie KsK : 'nil' 'J'arrius- Gilnoekie T«iwer— Cailenrig anil .lohiiiiie 

i ils Tnigie Story. The Axnax: The Uaml of the Bruees— Thomas 

Uoln-rt Bruee and the Bed Ciiinvil — Uriimlanrig and Caerlavcii.ek 

> AI.Ihv Pow and Sweetlimrt Ahlnv. Th.'DEi'.: Hoii-las T..nguelaii.l 

Hm '■(•niiv f Cn-e." Thi' B1.AI1EX0CI1 : Th.' Wigtown Martyi-s . 

RiVEIJS (»F .\Vl!Sini!E - //,/ .//v/v cEinni: 

V" ' ■ of thi' Avr^hiri' IliviTu — " The Ij.nd of Iliiins"- The Avr and the PfM.n — Som— Catrine-- 

I 'I . i.hliii.— ■|i..r.kiiiiiiiii,- -(•,.il^fi,l,| l|,.a>e and Ih. l-ail \V.,t.i -Th. ( ..vl - Allelic neniive - 

THE CI..VJjlv — Uy J OILS t,l:lihlL. 

•n,. 11,11 ..fK,,. ■ li,.,„.l...l.l. ■I,,.;, h •..•'-Boiiiiini.'lon Linn-Cona Linn and 

■Inn and "Tillii.tiidlein"~"'i'he OrrlianI 

llothwell Brig and Castle lllantviv- 

, . Ii.^ks. aiiil.Shi|il.iiildiiig Yaiils-The Work 

\\\.i\. I oil iiuiiilmrton l»..ek and Ciuitlo— 'ITie I/even Vallev 

ih at Event idu . . . . . . '. 



C.XDKK InitlS, IKOM TIIK PoLGELLEY KoAD . , , , Fioiit'ntpieee. 


Distant View of C'aiitcrbiiry— Uivers of Kent and Sussex [.Vap] — Arundel Castle— limdwiil\ : Tlio Old lliid"e rAom 

and l$arl)ii-an— General View of Winchester— St. Catherine's Hill— Winchester Cathedral— SouthanipldM 

Doiks — 'JTic Koyal Pier, Suuthamptun— S uithamptim from the Water — Kimisey Ahlii y— Christchnrch Alilwj- 

— Kivers of Hants and Dorset (J/a/))— A Xew Funst Stream — The Avon at Ameshury — Salislmry Calheilral 

— The Frome at Frampton Court — Dorchester from the Frouiu— I'oolo Uarboiu- — Wimbome Jlinster . 1 24 


Bideford Bridge — Rivers of Devon (J/rt/y)— The Wear Watei-^Excter -Exniniith, f.cmi the liiacnn— Wateismcct 

— Lynmonth and Lynton — "Clam" liridire over the Wallabrook — Fingle Bridge — Teignnioulh Xew liriib'e 

— Buekfastlei.:;h — Staverton — The Island, Totnes — Totnes — Dittisham— Jloulh of the Dart— Barnstaple, from 

the South Walk — The Toiridge near Torrington — The Plym from Cadafurd Bridire — In I'.icklcisrh Vale 

riympton Eirl — The Hoe, Plymouth . . ■•■.... 25 53 


D.inescumbe — Rivei-s of Cornwall {Map) — Xew Bridge — Tavistock New Bridge— JlorwcU Kocks — Carirrt en 

The Ilamoaze, from Saltash — The Fal from Tolvorne— {"ahnoulh Ilarbuur— Falmouth. Iroiu Flushing . 54-60 


The Isle of Athelncy— The Parret and the Lower Avon {Map) — Taunton Chiuch — Jlalmcsbury Abbey — The 
Avon ne:ir Tetbury — Bradf.>rd-on-Avon Church, from the North-East— The Avon at Bath — View fnim 
Xorth Parade Bridge, Bath— View from the old City Bridge, Bath— Bristol, Irum the Site of the old 
Drawbridge acr.iss the Harbom- — Clifton Su.spension Bridge ....... 67 — 81 


CHAPTER I. — FitoM the Source to Tewkesbury. — .Source of the Severn, Pliniimmon^ — The Severn, from 
the Source to Tewkesbury {Map') — Valley of the Severn, from Plinlinnnon — The First House on the Severn, 
Blaenhafren — 3Ioel-y-Golfa and Breidden, from Welshpool — The Vyrnwy Emkinkment, before the Hooding 
of the Valley — A Quiet Xook on the Vyrnwy — Tlie Boat-house Ferry, Ix'tween Wilsh and Bridges — 
Shrewsbury Castle — Quarry Walk, Shiewsbury — English Bridge, Shrewsbury — Buildwas Abbey — The Severn 
from Benthall Edge — Ironbridgc — The Severn in W'yre Forest — Ke,ir Shrawley — Old Houses at Bewdley — 
Worcester Cathedral, from the Severn — Ludlow — 'ITie Severn at Tewkesbury ..... 82 — lOG 

CHAPTEK II. — The I'i-per or Wakwickshiue Avon-. — The Avon Rugby — The Warwickshire Avon {Ma/t)— 
Wai-wick Castle — 'ITic Avon from Warwick Castle— Stratford-on-Avon Church— Shakespeare's House— 'I'he 
Avon at Stratford — Evesham— The Avon at Tewke-sbury ........ 107—118 

CHAPTEK III.— From TEWKEsimtY to the Sea.— Distant View of Tewkesbury— The Scveni. Tewkesbury 

to the Sea (J/"/)) — Gloucester — The Severn Bridge, Sharimess ....... 119—123 


A Bend of the Wye— Views in the L^wer Elan Valley— The Wye and the Usk (J/ap)— Pont-Hyll-Fan, in the 
Elan Valley— The Shiiky Bridge, Llandrind-d— 'I'he Wye Bridge and Hereford Cathedral— GiKldrich Castle— 
I.'oss Cliurch — Symond's Yat and the Ferry — Monmouth — The Monnow Bridge and Gate-house, Monmouth — 
Tintem Abbey, from the Wye — 'I'he Xave, Tinteni Abbey — Gateway at Chepstow— Chejistow Castle— View 
fr..nithe W}TidclifI-01d nn the W V,- ......... 121-U8 


Near the .Source of the Usk, TaLs-irn-side— The I'sk at Biecknock— Bit ol tb,- H..mau Wall at Cai ileon — T.-k - 

Cacrleon — Xewixiit : 'I'he Bridge and Castle . ......... H'J — 158 



T . f: . " T T I ' .r ! ,ff rith.,lnil : Thr West Kr..nt ; T)i.' Nhv.^ and Clinir ; Tli,' -W.-sl 

riio lJi^h..I«■s (i.iloway. l,1..ii.lafl— Ciinliff Oistlo— St. 
-In till- Va)r .if Nw.'th— Xialli Al.l.. y-diitskirts o{ 

;.; -—C'an'W Oislle— Oimiiirtlii'ii (iviay—lVmbniko Castle 

-ilw ICoyal Uorkvani, I'ctubruko Duck— Haverfordwest — Milford Haven— The Tcili at 
-.i,h .■ ■ l.-,9-192 


'i: .MAwniiArii. — 'Diiljrplley — Ki vers of North Wales {ifap) — Torrent 
nnt Walk — IJetwivn Duljrelley and namiiiiith — Barmouth Uridjrennd 

,,.,,..,- - .,.,,., - llie E..tiuir>-. Itannoiith . ...... 193-204 

OIIAITKU II. — Thr ."^rioxT, theOowex, the Coxwav. — I'ass of LLinlK-rin— Oimnrvon Ca.stle— llie Swallow Falls 
Mi..i.' I'.il.i., Ibttwii-y-Cood — Moel Siiiboil, frum the Llujrw.v — I'ont-y-Pair — (}n the Lledr — -Viiother View 
» — Ktiiry Gliii, Bettws-y-t'oed — On the Con«Tiy— The Conway, from Conway Ciustle — 
Uridgi-, from Conway Ca.stle ......... 205— 222 

CHAl'IKli III.— 1 ME Ctwvn AM>TnE Pee.- View from Khuddlan Castle— Rhuddlan CiLstle-St. Asaph— Denl.ij.'h 
— Ii«U I/ike— V«lli' Crurin A hbey— Llangollen — I'jiton Hall — The Koodee, Chester — The Pee at Chester, from 
the \V«U»— tliwtiT Cathedral, from the Sonth-West— .SwinR- Bridgv over the Dee near Hawarden — The ."Ninds 
«ilD«- . 223-241 


ai», M, T- > ,1 St.«kjvirt— The Mersey (.l/.iy)}— N'orthendcn— On the Irwell— Pendleton, from the Crescent— 

lUu • ■ Ontmniar SrhixJ. showinf; the Cathedral, the Kxehange. the Town Hall, etc. — Victoria and 

ItU. ■ "it—inKT I>!i««in(r through TnifTord IJo;id Swin;; Bridge — The Old and the Swing Aqueducts, 

Ii Worrall's Woiks — Kuncorn Bridge — The Ixieks at Kasthani — St. Geoi-ge".s 

r.ridgi' over the Kntninee to Stanley Dock, Liverpool — Liverpool, from 

. I.iiiie Street, LiveriKKil— The IVreh Kock Lighthouse . . . 242—270 


SlainforOi nridgc— Towneloy Hall, Burnley — Kivers of I.inca.'ihire and T^akcland {^f<lI^) — Preston, from the 
West I/tTT-iM.-r Windi nnere— Ryilal Water — Gnisniere— Newliy Bridge — Another Bit of the Leven — The 
U». : ; ,1.- Water— The Liza at (Jillerlhwaite— Coniston Water— Knnerdale— The tireta 

^"^« viek- The Derwont. with Keswiik in the Distance— The Derwent at Crosthwaitc— 

IVt« V l>.iwentwal.r fmni S, ifell -Thr C.ikir (Inwin^ ficni ( rummock Liike— l"lie 

Oodnr at Kirkgrni- . . ... 271—300 


•n. A.,' ,1. .,. .t A1.1..11 T.ivi. 'ni.. Klen, the Petleril, and the Caldew (.Vrt;()— Kden Hall— The Weir at 

Viiw friiiii llniekiiiKink looking towards Cotchill— Cotehill I.sland — View 

IJ.Hk Stairway to the Boathouse. Corliy Castle— Gi-eysloke Castle-Carlisle, 

.. We-t— Kivem llowing South into Solway Firth (.Vo;;)- The K-sk, near 

fvi. Dumfries— Linduden AIilj<y— Drunihinrig Castle— Cacrlivon>ck Castle — The Deo at 

I -The Crtv at Xowton Stewart ........ 301-327 

Rl VERS OF A) i:s II 11! K : — 

T1k> Ayr ali»ve Muirkirk — Sorn- Uivers of Ayrshiri' (.V<i/))— B.iUix'hniylc- 'llie Ayr at Barskimniing — 
Aaclicncruive -The T«u Urig» of AjT— 'ilie Dam at Ayr— Tlie D.K.n : The New and the Auld Brig— Aynnovith 328—34 1 


I 111' Clyde (.Vii;))— Dongliw Castle -Bonnington Linn — Corra Linn — lioman 
l.iiiii B I'.hw.ll Castli' — tilasgow Vniversily — The Bmoniielaw l.rinding- 
•„U - r,..l. ^-l^■1lll.^l.,1. l;.Mk — l,„l, l,,„„',i,.l i;i.,,„„.k— Uourock . 342—309 

Rivers of Great Britain. 

/7io(o ; O. If. il'Usoa it: Co., Alxrdait. 



General Charactei-istics — The Cottekbirv Stovk and its Branches : Ashford and Jack Cade— Horton and Ljnninnfc — Canter- 
bury— Fonlwich anil Izaak Walton— Isle of Thanet - Jlinster. The Lesser Stovr: " Boui-ne Ground"- Sandwich. 
The Brede. The Bother: Bodiam — Isle of O.xney- Winchelsca— Scaford. The CrcKMEitE : Alfriston and Liillinftton. 
The Ouse : St. Leonard's Forest- Fletchinsr — Maresticld — Lowes. The Auir: Bnimbcr— Shorehani. The Auix : 
Aniberley— Arundel— I.ittlehampton. Hampshire Kivei-s— Thi' Aule: The lleon District— AVickhani and tlie Bi.*hoi)- 
Biiilder- Titchficld. The Itche.v: A Curious E.\ample of Instinct- Alresford Pond— Cheiiton—Tichborne— The Winnal 
Reaches— Winchester and Imak Walton— St. Cross— St. Catlierine's Hill— Southampton. The Test: E.msey and its 
Abbey. The Beavlieu : Beaulieu Abbey. The Lisiingtox and the JIemna — The Hami'shire Avon and the Stoir : 
Christchurch— Salisbiu-v — Wimbtirne. The Frome : Dorchester — ilr. Hai-dy's Country — Poole Harbour. 

IE long and .strong bai-kbone of the North Downs oxtoiuls, roughly 
speaking, from Kent, by way of Dorking and Guildford, to the 
source of the Avon, -north of Salisbury Plain ; and tlie South Downs 
run parallel, more or less, through Sussex and Hants to the Dorset 
heights. From these green hills spring the streams which will be 
l)rieHy traced from source to sea in this chajitcr. Tlicy arc not rivers 
of tirst ac(M)unt in their aid to commerce; even the pair which coiiii)ine 
in the formation of Southampton Water have never been rcckomnl in the nomcnchi- 
ture of dock or port. To the angler, howevei-, some of these clialk stretuns are 
excecdinsly precious — as thev indeed ought to be, when a rental vtirying from 
fifty to a hunched pounds per mile per annum is gladly paid (and taken) for the 


[The Castehiiiry Stovk. 

right of lisliiiig with rod aiul lino. Sucli clioice preserves are stocked with trout 
of aristocratic quality, trout which can only be reared in streams issuing from tlio 
chalk ; their water, when unpolluted by contact witli towns, is crystal clear ; and 
the beds of gravel and line sand favour the growth of tyj)ical vegetation, wliidi 
in its turn favours tvpical water insects and other food suitable for the higliest 
class of non-migratory sahnonid;r. 

Whollv different from such noisy, tuvlnilcnt, masterful ri^-ers as those wliich 
distinguish North Britain, these chalk streams enter into the very spirit of that 
sweet i)astoral scenery Avhich suggests rejjose, j^^ace, and plenty. They maintain 
for the most part an even course, tranquilly flowing without fret or violence tlirougli 
level land, and pursuing their tireless journey seawards, unoljstructed by tlie 
rugged rocks, obstinate boulders, and uneven beds which j^rovoke your mountain- or 
moorland-born waters into thunderous roar, angiy swirl, and headlong rai)idit\'. 
For foam-flecked pools, and mighty leaps in ronumtic gcn-gcs, the South-country 
chalk stream offers forgetnic-nots by tlie margin, and beds of flowers blossoming 
fi'oni its harmless depths. It is with rivers of tliis class we have now to deal. 
presenting such features as may l)e noticed within the limits which luive been 
assigned to the jiresent chajjtcr. 

Beginning, as th»^ sun in its j)rogrcss would have us do, from the easT, we 
introduce the reader to the lair county of Kent. Tlicre are at least half-a-dozen 
Stours, great and small, in Kngland ; and though the stream with which we start 
is entirely Kentish (and might, therefore, take the name of the county), it is 
conniionly distinguished by the name of the C.\NTERHi'i;v Stoik. Tliere are others 
of its namesakes — one of which we .shall meet with towards the end of our journey 
— of greater water.shed, but tliere is no more interesting member of tli(> family. 
As a ride, a river, with its tributaries, as seen on the map, offers the appearance 
of the root of a tree, with its branches gracefully following in a common 
direction towards the parent stream, 
on the principle that, as the main 
river ever has marching orders towards 
the ocean, all its feeders, in the same 
.spirit, loyally ynii in a forward move- 
m e n t . On r 
S tour, however, 
is a notable 
exception. It 
assumes a le- 
.spectable magni- 
tude at A.shford, 
but near that 
town, and al- at right 

ttlVEItS OF KKNT AM> M>M:.\. 


angles to the subsequent direction of the main stream, two distinct branches 
join issue. The main stream from Ashford to the Isle of Thanet runs almost due 
north-east ; branch number one, that comes from the hills in the direction of 
Maidstone, travels to Ashford almost due south-west, and the other branch that rises 
north of Hythe flows in a diametrically opposite course. These little rivers are 
of equal length, and flow, in their unpretendinii' fashion, through jJ'-^i'cly rural 

The first-named of these branches rises near Lenham, Avhich takes its name 
from a feeder of the great river of the northern watershed of the county. 
Visitors to the seat of the Bering family at Surrenden, where there have been 
Darings since the time of the Conqueror, and to Little Chart Church, will be, 
at the latter place, not far from what is regarded as the real source of the river 
Stour, but this brook must not be confounded with the Beult at Smardeu, which 
belongs to the ^fedway. Our stream flows the other war, passing Cale Hill, 
Hothfield, and Godinton. Hereabouts — if there is anything in tradition — is the 
country of troublesome Jack Cade, who must have known a good deal about the 
river, for the story is that he was born at Ashford, and that the squire who had 
the honour of taking him into custod}- lived on the estate known in these days 
as Ripley Court Farm. 

The southern branch takes its rise near" Postling, on the famous Stone Street, or 
Roman road, which from Westenhanger is a straight northerly^ highway to Canter- 
bury. The farmhouse at Horton was a prior}- founded in the time of Henrv II. 
Naturally, in this part of England, where Augustine landed, the countrvside is rich 
in the earliest ecclesiastical reminiscences. At Lyminge, for example, hard bv, Avas one 
of the Benedictine nunneries, and the church where the daughter of Ethelbcrt was 
buried is often visited b}- admirers of Roman and Anglo-Saxon masonry, for it 
is believed that the Saxon church was built on the site of a basilicon. There 
are many parish churches in Kent which are of exceptional interest, but that at 
Lyminge is generally accepted as the first of them. 

The entire course of the Stour is about forty-five miles, and its valley from 
Ashford to Canterbury is one of the loveliest features of a lovely county. 
Overlooking it is Eastwell Park, which for many years was the country-house of 
the Duke of Edinburgh. The valle}' of the Stour, seen from one of its higher 
knolls as on a chart, is not always so open as it is in this neighbourhood, though its 
narrowing means but the concentration of charming scenery, with wooded heights 
on the one side and open downs on the other. For a considerable distance 
the Stour follows the railway line, and at Wye, where there is one of the most 
lovely miniature racecourses in the kingdom, it is crossed bv a bridge of five 
arches. Thenceforth, it is a notable trout stream, gradually widening until it forms 
the distinctive feature of the well-known meadows, with the square-towered 
cathedral always a prominent oljject of the landscape. 

Canterbury has been so often described, for it is frequently the scene of great 


[Tm- rAVTKKiiritY StoVR 

ceremonials (as witness the iniprossive burial of Arc-liUishop Benson in 1S'.)6, and the 
enthronisation of his distin<iuished successor in 1807), that a few sentences only 
are required as we muse by the riverside. But it is inipossil>le to visit Canterbury 
A\-ithout recalling its stirring and suggestive associations, and tlie distinction it liud in 
times when other parts of the country were obscure. It Avas too near the water 
to escajjc the ravages of the sea-kings, who liked to land at Sheppey and Thanet, 

lUNDKL (ASTI.I: {jl. 11). 

an<l it was more than oni-e devastated \>y tlic Danes. In MUl it was taken by 
storm .scenes of death and desolation during wliich the cathedral and iiionas- 
terv were burnt, the inhabitants slaughtert'd in masses, and women and cliiUlieii 
carried awav into captivity. There is no need to re-tell the story of tliat different 
kind of landing, gloriiied liy the arrival of St. Augustine and his missionaries. Tills 
also honoin-ed the Isle of Tlianet, which the Saxon clironiele mentions as the 
place of di.sembarkati«in of Ilengist and llorsa on their heathen mission to Vortlgern. 
Tlie Stom- in its termuud portion has probably become much cabined and conlined 
since that period, when it must have been a broad estuary. 

Aldiiit two miles below ('anterl)ury is the village of Fordwlch, on the ojiposite 

The CAXTERBrRY Stour.] 


bank of the Stour. As the tide in old days reached thither, it ranked as a Cinque 
Port. Accordin-;- to Izaak Walton, the old name of Fordwich was " Fordido-c," and 
as such he immortalised it in the " Compleat Angler " as the home of the Fordidge 
trout, about Avhich there was some myster}-, until in the jiresent century it was 
proved to be one of the migrator}' salmonidje. An occasional specimen is now 

I'hoto : I'ouUon & Son, Lee. 

SANDWICH : Tin, 111,11 nuini.E .\mj barbican {p. 7). 

found. This fish does now and then run into some of our south-east rivers, and no 
doubt at the time when the Thames was a salmon river and the waters were mi- 
polluted, it was common in the Stoiu-, which throughout is an excellent trout 

Below Canterbury, where the water becomes brackish and the conditions prosaic, 
the trout gives place to the ordinary coarse fish of our streams. Grove Ferry is 
one of the favourite holiday resorts of the citizens. At Sarr, a few miles from 
Fordwich, the ferry which now plies at Grove Ferry was formerly the means of 

fi liTVEn.^ OF GREAT BRITAIX. [Thf. T.essfr STorn. 

communication with tlie Isle of Tlianct. This historic ishmd is formed Itv tlie Stour 
separating right and left, the arm to the north finding tlie sea a little east of the 
Rcculvers ; while the branch flowing in the opposite direction marks the boundary 
of the promontory which includes the watering - places of Ramsgate, Broadstairs, 
Margate, and liirchington. and has for the extreme tip of its snout the lonelv North 
Foreland. This divergence, which, on a smaller scale, corresponds with the curious 
right-angled course of the brooks at the .source, used to have a name of its own : it 
was called the Wantsmn, with a well-known ford at St. Nicholas-at-Wade : and no 
doubt this channel was once an arm of the sea. The lesser Stour, of wliich some- 
thing will presently be said, falls into the navigable 2)ortion of the parent river 
below 8arr. The lower branch runs through mar.shes by ]\Iinster, which is a 
deservedly popular village to tourists exploring Kent wlio are .speciallv on 
the lookout for interesting relics of the past. King Egbert, one of the Christian 
kings of Kent, founded a nunner}" here by way of atonement for the murder of a 
couple of princelv cousins, and he agreed to endow it with as much land as a hind 
would cover in one course. The Danes had their will of the place. The restored 
church in its present form has a Xorman nave, witli Karly Englisli transepts and 
choir. ^Minster is a favourite ramble for seaside visitors to Ramsgate; it is well 
situated, and its high ground affords views of distant Canterbury, the ruins of 
Richborough Castle, the coast country about Deal, and a pro})er expanse of marsli. 
The Stour, when nearly oj>posite the point of coast where it eventually falls into 
the Straits of Dover, takes a turn to the east, calling, as it were, at the ancient town 
of Sandwich, and then proceeds due north to Pegwell Bay. 

Rising .somewhere near the source of the lower arm of Stour major, the Lksski; 
Sron: is another clianuing Kentish trout stream. It flows tlu-ough what may be 
designated bourne ground, as the names of many of its villages testify. The 
.source is near Bi.shopsbourne Church, where the judicious Hooker, a native of tlie 
jilace, performed the duties of jiarish priest. There are also I'atrixbourne, Bekes- 
bourne, Xailbourne, and Littlcbourne. The last named is well known to touri.sts, 
for the village has a traditional association witli the monks of St. Augustine; 
here are an Early church with monuments, and tlic park at Lee Priory where 
Sir Egcrton Brydges worked his press; and within a (piarter of an hour's walk is 
an old church formerly belonging to some of the CanterlKuy ]iriors. On the l)anks 
of the stream at Beke.sbourne are the remains of a j'^lace of Archl)isliop Cranmer ; 
and when the Parliamentarians, according to their cu.stom, laid it under contribution, 
in their ran.sacking they discovered the Primate's will lieiiind an old oak wains- 
coting. Wickham Breaux is another of the Lesser Stour villages, and all anmnd 
arc the fruit orchards and occasional hopfields which give a distinctive and 
agreeable character to the entire watershed. The Lesser Stour for a while runs 
parallel with its coini)anion, wliic-h it joins at Stounnouth, to in outlining the 
Isle of Thanet, and mingling therefore with the current which goes the round of 
Saiidwich to Pegwell I'av. It seems almost incredil)l(' that Sandwich was once a 

The Rothfk.] 


great port, Ijut if a quiet hour be sjjent in what is left of it, the town will be found 
to repay careful inspection. The Barbican, as the old gateway tower is called, 
and the bridge indicate the haven in whicli refugees from France and the Low 
Countries found a safe home. 

From Ilytlio to the ancient and always interesting town of Eye, stretches the 
Eoyal Military Canal; the first stream to claim attention is the Bricde, thoiigli it is 
scarcely entitled to river rank. 
It takes its rise a few miles from 
Battle, and its course is held to 
have been the old channel of the 
Eother, near Winclielsea. The 
"Groaning Bridge" is on the 
Brede, and it was on this spot 
that the Oxenbridge ogre of 
ancient legend was said to have 

>T. 1 mhfhinl's hill {p. 17 

been disposed of once for all bv being divided across the middle with a 
wooden saw. 

But the principal river in the Eye and Winclielsea district, so full of suggestion 
in its evidences of past prosperity and present decay, is the Eother, known as the 
Eastern, to distinguish it from another of the same name in the western part of the 
county. At Bodiam is a famous foss, fed by the river, encircling the excellenth' 
preserved castle, with its round tower, great gateway approached by a causeway, 
spacious central court, outer portcullis, and portions of hall, chapel, and kitchen. 


[The Rother. 

This is lielil by antiqnarios to be ono of tlu> best of the feudal fortresses 
in Sussex. In monkisli days tlic stream was no doubt one of iireat value. Near 
the source, at Gravel Hill, is Kobertsbridge, or liotlu ibridjii', where a Cistercian 
abbey, secluded almost from the world by the river, was visited by Edward II. 
and Edward III. There are still fragnnenls of tlic ablicy on a farm which occupies 
at least a portion of the site. The Rotlier is a river of many tributaries, oii(> of 
tliem actinsr partlv as the boundary of Sussex and Kent. Its scenery is somewliat 
commonplace, lait it is navigable^ foi- a considerable portion of its course, wliicli lias 


miii-li altered since the old chronicles were inscrilieil. Two of its l)ranches enclose 
the Isle of ( )xne\-, a Hat so easilv Hooded that the villagers witliin its bounds often 
(in<l the use of u boat a necessity. 

'i"he railway cro.sscs the Rother by a ston(> bridge, then conie^ Wye llaiboiir. 
and at a distance of two miles, set upim a hill so that it cannut be hid, is tin' 
old-worhl borough of Wiiichelsea, which the sea has left high and dry, though it 
h;id iieen the abode of great kiiifjs, and the witness of battles liy sea ;ind land. .\t 
Hastings the 1 )o\vns supply suHicient rivalet-ijowei- to maiidain glen, wati'rfall, and 
dripping-- well, for sea-sidi- visitors. Following the coast-line to Seaford, the (|uiet 
and un])retr-nding- watei-ing- jjlace which was once a ('in(pa,' Port, and wliich icturncd 

The Cvckmere.] 


members to Parliament until it was disfrancliised by the Reform Act, a sliort walk 
over the Downs brings the tom'ist to the pretty broken country of East and West 

The stream crossed by Exceat Bridge is the Cuckmere, of which it need only 

f'7io(o; F. i:. 0. Sluail, SoitlhuMpioa. 


be said that it has ceased to be a feature of importance to shipping people. It is 
worth while, nevertlieless, to follow it up from the reaches where barges still tind 
resting-place. At Alfriston British, Koman, and Saxon coins have been found; 
there is a rare sixteenth-century inn, supposed to have been built as a house of 
call for Canterbury pilgrims, a market cross, a clnu'ch on the plan of a Greek 
cross, sometimes designated "the cathedral of the South Downs," a parish register 
dating from 1512 — possibly the oldest in England — and a half-timbered rectory of 
still earlier date. There is some doubt as to which is now the smallest church in 


Great liritaiu. but tlu' claim has l)con niatlo for Lullinutun. wliii'li is on tlio slope of 
C'uckmere vale. In rambling- by this little river the tourist will make acquaintance 
with the South Downs free and unadulterated. The Cuckmere flows into the sea 
about two miles from Seaford, having escaped through the opening which tak(^s tlie 
name <»f Birling (Jap. 

Within an area of four square miles, and almost in touch, with St. Leonard's 
Forest, three important Su.sscx streams take their rise — the Ouse, Adur, and Arun. 
This was the centre of the ancient iron industry of Sussex, and the position would not 
have been possible without water supply for tlic hannner ponds. The OrsE is 
crossed by the London and Brighton Railway a little nt)rtli-west of Lindfield. The 
river afterwards winds round the well-wooded seat of the Earl of Sheflield ; and at 
Fletching Common, hard by, the baronial army spent the night before fighting the 
liattle of Lewes. Gibbon the historian was buried in the church, which is noted 
also for an ancient rood screen and the mausoleum of the Neville familv. .Mares- 
lield, where the furnaces and forges of the old Sussex iron-masters clustered thick, 
retains vast expanses of the cinder and slag they created centuries ago. It is 
beautified by the trees of Ashdown Forest, and sends a tributarv to tlie Ousc ; 
another tributary presently arrives from Buxted, wliere tlie first cast cannon ever 
seen in Europe was made in 1543. 

The Ouse is the river of the pleasant county town of Lewes. This rare old 
tfiwn, on its chalk hill, with downs surrounding it, and with the Ouse, on whose right 
liank it is spread, adding to its attractions, ranks in interest with Chester and 
Ihn-ham. The great battle which Avas fought on May 14th, \'2(ji, is the event 
of which the local historians are most proud. As we have seen, it was at Fletching 
Common that De Montfort encamped liis soldiers, and thence he sent a coujjle of 
bishops the day l>efore the battle on a fruitless errand to the king, who was 
quartered at tiie ])riorv. The most sanguinary slaugliter appears to have taken 
place scjuth of the town, where the Ouse was crossed by a bridge; and tlie ilver 
with its marshy flats assisted in the destruction, for many knights were discovered 
after the battle stuck In the swamp, "sitting on their horses, in complete armour, 
and witli drawn swords in their lifeless hands." The Ouse cannot be said to be 
picturesque ; at Lewes it has long lost the sjiarkle which characterised it in the 
forest outskirts; but fi-om any elevated point of Lewes Castle, notably the western 
keep, the stream may be .seen as It is aljout to disap])ear between the hills. 
Tlie dise.stablished locks between Cuckfield and Lewes indicate a brisk bygone barge 
traffic. Early in the present century the river was navigable for barges of forty 
tons burden for ten miles without interruption, and thence beyond Limlfield in the 
Ilayward'.s iieath country. In early times It was pidl);ilily a ln'oad estu;iry ex- 
tending to ix'wcs itself, and at some time found an outlet to the sea at Seaford, 
three miles to the east. This, however, is very ancient history, for the river was 
brought liack to Its present channel In thr sixteenth century. 


Slioreham, the humble and dull attendant upon Bi-ighton, has an advantao-e 
over the great watering-place — which is streamless — in being situated on a river. 
It is not a beautiful place, but it has something of a harbour, in which you 
may find port in a storm, and it has a bridge across the Adur. This river 
comes down from openings in the hills, having passed through pretty country, Avith 
such villages as Bramber (where there was once a broad estuary in A\-]iich vessels 
anchored) and Steyning. The source of the Adur on the borders of St. Leonard's 
Forest has been previously mentioned; but there are at least two other rills that 
have an equal claim. From Henfield the river runs south, througli pasture land, 
and, as we have seen, winds past Bramber, supposed to be the Portus Adurni of the 
Romans. There is very little of the castle left, and that is almost hidden by trees. 
At Xew Shoreliam tlio rVdur turns eastward, and runs for a wliili- parallel with tlie 

These Sussex rivers which are projected from the neighbourhood of St. 
Leonard's Forest can scarcely be considered as akin to the pure, bright chalk 
stream which was described at the commencement of this chapter ; and the most 
important of the trio, the Arun, does not in this respect differ from its fellows. 
Something more than passing glimpses of it are obtained from the carriage windows 
by the railway traveller as he speeds through the imposing scenery around Arundel. 
It is navigable for an unusual distance, and whatever beauty it jiossesses it owes to 
its surroundings. Of late years the river has become the Mecca of members of the 
London angling clubs, who charter special trains and invade the districts hv lunulreds 
on Sundays. The first stopping-place of any account from tliis point of view is 
Pulborough, the site of an old Roman settlement, with traces of camp and buildings, 
which will not, however, be found on Arun-side, but at Hardham and elsewhere. 
Amberle}' was rescued from oblivion, and from the desertion enforced upon it by 
neighbouring marshes, by the railway : and the scenery between it and Arundel has 
always been prized and worked at by artists. Swanbourne ]\Iill as a picture is 
probably familiar to many who have never entered the county. 

The splendidly kept castle at Arundel has not been dwarfed by tlie cathedi'al- 
like Roman Catholic church built by the Duke of Norfolk, and dedicated to St. 
Philip Xeri. Even now it looks like the splendid stronghold that it was, and the 
most venerable in the land that it is, on its commanding terminal of swelling down, 
with the stream from the Weald narrowing between the hills through its beautiful 
valley, to the characteristic marsh fiats beyond. The river hence to the sea does 
not call for admiration or comment, save that there is a remnant of a priory at 
Tortington, a point of view from which Arundel witli its castle-crowned heights 
looks its best. Littlehampton, four miles from Arundel, is better known as a port 
of departure for steamships than as a Avatering-place competing Avith the pleasure 
resorts in more favoured situations on the coast. 

Hampshire is a well-Avatered county, and classic ground for that new school of 



[Thf Aule. 

anglers who are elassifioil as " dry-fly "' moii. Tlio masters thereof graduated on the 
Itchen and the Test, most fiimous of all South-country chalk streams, and honourably 
mentioned in anirling literature. To know that a man is a successful fisher upon 
cither is tantamount to a certificate of the highest skill. The IIainj)sliire rivers, 
other than these celebrated feeders of the Southam])ton water, are few, and modest 
in character. Thex-e is, it is true, a small trout stream at Fareliam, a Imsv little 
seaport -which owes its .standing to its proximity to Portsmouth Ilarliour. and its 
attractions as a district abounding in country seals to the rampart of I'ortsdown 


I ■pWJTiiii flin II Tni ] I II IT 


llill, affording at once ])rotection from the 
north and opportunity for overlooking the 
Solent and the I.sle of AVight. T>e,ss than 
three miles west, across llii> peninsula that 
.su.stains, is a consiiUnalile strcnim, 
little known outside tlic countx-, but an 
ever- present delight to the villages through 
which it lightly flows to the eastern shore 
of Southampton water. This is the Arlc, 
or Titchfield river. 
In its course of .some .score of miles the Aiiu; takes its sliare in a diversity of 
scenery of a .sootliing rather than ronumtic character. Rising in llie South Do'vns. 
it begins In- mingling with village and hamlet life in a .sequestered valley : then it 
proceeds through an open forest country, and l)ecomes navigalile ni Tiirlilield. 
The s<Mirce of the .stream is but a few miles west of Peter.sfield, but it begins with 
a sweep to the north and a l(j(»p rouiul a strntherly point, ]»assing so miuh in the 
•Meoii district that it is often marked on the ma]>s bv that iiaiiie. which was 
jn-obably its only oni' in the pa>t. Meonware was a I'lclisli province when there 


The Itchen.^ 



was a king of the Soutli Saxons, and Saint Wilfrid jireaclied Christianity to the 
British heathen. Indeed a portion of Corhamjjton Chiu'ch, across tlie stream, is 
ascribed to that prehite. Wickham, most beautifully situated on the Arle, is 
celebrated as the birthplace of William of Wykeham, the great bishop-buildei'. 
Wartou the poet lived his last days at Wickham, and died there in the tirst year 
of the century. 

References to William of Wvkcham contimiallv occui- in coiuitN- Hants: thus 

JVw.'i): A. Scden, lUili 

ROMSEY AHIIEV {j>. 19l. 

in the district under consideration there are a AV^■keham chancel at !Meonstoke, a 
Wykeham foundation of tive chantries near the coast at Southwick, and a reputed 
Wykeham aisle in the church at Titchfield. The renuiins of Funtlev Abbey are 
naturally not far from the stream. They are close to TitcliHcld. and mark the site 
of a Priory founded by Bishop de Rupibus in the reign of Henry III. The house 
which Sir Thomas Wriothesley built upon the place acquired in the usual way at 
the Dissolution was "right statelie" when Leland described it; and this was the 
Titchfield House where poor Charles Stuart found - temporary refuge between the 
flight from Hampton Court and tlie grim lodging of Carisbrooke. 

The Itchex, as next in order on our westward progress, must receive first 
consideration, though it is the smaller of tlie streams which pay tribute to the Solent 
at Calshot Castle. The Itchen and tlie Test have many things in common: 
they botli rise out of the chalk downs which stretch from the Stour in Kent, 
through Hants, to the confines of Wilts; they both give Southampton importance; 



[Thk Itchex. 

tlu'V aiv liotli salmon rivers, but to so uniin|)ortaiit a driircc that tlu'\- have never 
yet been eousiderecl worthy of <;-overnance by a Huard nf Conservators; and tliev 
have tlie distinetioii of beiui;- the tmly sahnon rivers in Kniihmd tliat may be tislied 
witliout a rod licence. But these rivers are so distinct in one charactei'istic that 
thev mav be quoted as evidence of almost miracuh)us instinct. The salmon of the 
Test hold no connnunion with those of the Itchen ; no lisherman accjiiainted with 

/■»ito; I'uullon ,1 Sill, /., 

( iiitisTfinntii Aiiiir.Y {p. 22). 

the rivers would be likely to mistake the one for tli(> otlior : vet. wliile tlie Itchen 
fish, on return from the salt water, unerringly turn To the riiiht, and pass tlu- Docks 
oM their w;iy to Woodmill, the salmon of the Test swim straight aliead. and ])aiise 
not till tiuy i-each theii- own river bi-yoiid tlie furthest of the western suliurl)s 
of Southampton. 

When a river issues from a lake It is the custom to regard llic latter as the 
headwuteis. In this sense Ah-esfoid Toiid mav be set down as the source of the 
Itchen. Locally, a brook at b'o|.lry |),;ni. about eleven miles fi'om \\'incliester as 
the crow tlies, has been nominati'd for the disliuclion. but there are other rivulets 
from the Iii;,di land between Alresford and Alton which mii^lil be l)rouiiht into 
competition. The J}isho|is of Winchester formerh- had a sunmier palace at iiisjiop's 
Sutton, and it is somewhat <>i a coincidence that in oui- own limes Archbishop 
I^>n;rley was one of its vicars. '{'here are stores of |iiki' and mannnoth trout 
in Alresford I'oml, an<l no doubt the\' had anci-stors there when Kiiliard 1. was 

The Itchen.] 



king. Even now, in its i-cducod size, this beautiful sheet of clear water covers 
sixty acres. 

Tlie tributaries are inconsideraljle ; but it is a land of innumerable watercourses 
and of carriers, kept in action for the flooding of the j^astures. Hence the meads are 
found in a ijcrjjetual freshness of " living green," and the verdant pastures in the 
late spring are magnificent witli tlunr marsh-marigolds and cuckoo tiowers markino- the 
lines of the meadow trenches, while the hedges and coppices are a dream of 31a v 
blossom. Xoble countr}' houses are set back on the slopes, real old-fashioned farni- 
hoiises and thatched cottages are endjowered in every variotv of foliage, and the 
background is 
filled in by 
gentlv rano-- 
ing upland 
clothed with 
the softest 
herbage. Here 
a village with 
its mill, and 
there a ham- 
let Avith its 
homely old 
chm'ch, mark 
the stages of 
the crystal 
clear river, 
every foot of 
which is the 

treasured preserve of some wealthy angler. Tliere are golden trout upon the gravel, 
and in the deeps, while the shallows, many of which have been fords from time 
immemorial, are open to the eye of the wayfarer who quietly pauses on the rustic 
bridges to watch the sjjotted denizens as they cruise and poise. 

At Cheriton the Royalists i-eceived a crushing blow on the JIarch day when 
Lords Hopton and Forth led their army of 10,000 men against an equal force 


gave Winchester and its fort to the Parliamentarians. Of Tichborne this genera- 
tion heard somewhat in the 'seventies, and the notorious trials brought for many 
years an increase of visitors, who would interi'uj)t tlic discourse upon 8ir Koger de 
Tychborne, and the Tychborne Dole founded by the Lady Mabell (whose monument is 
in the church on the hill), with questions about the Claimant and the lost Sir 
Roger. Martyr's Worthv, King's Wortln-, and Abbot's Worthy are within sound of 
the sonorous Cathetlial bells; and aftei' these villages are the loved Winual reaches 



[The Itch ex. 

of the stroani. one of tluiu sadly marred by the Didcot and Xewlnirv Kaihvav, 
whii-h, within the last few years, has been opened with a statiun south of the town. 
The Nun's Walk is to the rijrht as you follow the Itehen downnvards, often over 
planks half-hidden in sedges. Sleek eattle L'raze in the water-meads: beyond them is 
the clu.stering city and its Cathedral, wliich at a distance resembles nothing so niucii 
as a long low-lying building that has yet to be finished, the squat tower seeming 

a mere cnnnMencemeut. Tlir bve-streams, of whicli there are several, meet at the 
bottom of the towni, and the strong, rapid, concentrated current has nnicli niill 
work to do before it rcc(jvers j)crfect freedom. 

Izaak Walton lived a while at Winchester, in tlir ilcclininL:' years of his long 
and — who can doubt? — ti-ampn'l life lie hail frirnds anioui; \\\r bisliops ami clergy, 
and wrote the lives of contemporarv divines. So he came 1o Winchester, where 
a room was kept for him in the Bishop's Palace, and in this city he died on 
De<-eiid)er \'>\\\, KIS:). His grave is in the ('athedral, marked li\ :i Iilack mailile 
»lab, an<l within the last few v<'ars a memorial statue has been placed in one of 
the uicbcH of the newlv-erected scii-en. 

The Ttohen.] 



Tlic ancient liospital of St. Cross is one of the best-known features of the 
Itch.en in t!ie neighbourliood of Wiuchoster, but there are cliarnung country-scats 
along the whole remaining course — fair homes of English gentlemen, planted above 

the grass land whence the evening mists f)f summer 
rise to shroud the winding stream and far-stretching 
water-meads, and adornt'd with smooth-shaven lawns 
intersected by gravel-walks, winding amidst shrub- 
parterres to the sedgy banks of the 

silentlv gliding river. But 8t. Cross is unique with its 

gateway tower and porter's hutch, where the wayfarer ma^ 

even now make thi; vagrant's claim for dole of beer and "^'-"^ 

bread, the former no longer brewed on the spot, and for its 

o^A^^ sake not wortli the troul)le often taken l)y sentimental visitoi's to obtain it. 

Fine old elms suri-ound the veneral)le home of the bivthren of this cloistered 

retreat; the river flows close to its foundations; and, facing you across the stream, 

rises the bold rounded steep surmounted ))}- the clump of beech-trees on St. 



[Tut. Ttchen". 

Oatlicrinc's Ilill. Tlio s|i('cul;itivo 
ItuildiT. liowi'vor, lias loiio- boon push- 
iiiii" his outworks towards this breezy 
finiiicncc where the AVvkeliain CoHeji'e 
bn\s of past generations trooped to 
tlicir sports. 

riie Itchen as it narrows to serve 
the South Stonehani water-wheels loses 
niueh of its bi-autv, and is finally, 
after its eourse of twenty-five miles, 
al)ruptlv stopped at the ffour-niill. 
Throuii'li artifieial outlets it tundili's 
intj) the tidewav. and becomes at a 
hound subject to the ebl) and ilow 
of the Solent. Southampton, after a 
temporary ilepression due to the with- 
drawal of the Peninsular and Oriental 
("om})anv to other headijuarters. has 



launched out into renewed enterprise ; great docks hav^e been added, and the 
extension is likely to continue in the future. Queen Victoria opened the Empress 
Docks in 1S90; the si'ravinti- docks were the next scheme, and in 1S93 the new 
American line of steamers began to run. In 1833 her Majesty, then the Princess 
Victoria, opened the Roval (or Victoria) Pier, which was relniilt in 189'2 and re- 
opened by the Duke of ('i)unaught ; and from it and other vantage points com- 
nuxnding vi(>ws are to be liad of the estuary, and of the New Forest on the 
further side. To nu'ct this vigorous revival of conniu-rcial development, the suburbs 
have pushed out in all directions, and the estuary of the Itchen, from the Salmon 
Pool at South Stonoham to the Docks, is now bordered by modern dwellings, and 
2)resents an appearance of life in nuirked contrast to the dreariness of a quarter of 
a centurv ago. 

In its gfmeral characteristics the Test resembles the Itchen. It is ten miles 
longer, and has a tril)utary assistance which its sister stream lacks ; but there are in 
its valley similar country mansions, ruddy farm-houses, picturesque cottages and 
gardens, water-meads and marshy C(jrners, mills and mill-pools, rustic bridges, and 
superb stock of salmon in the lower, and of trout and grayling in the higher, reaches. 
It springs from the foot of the ridge on the Berkshire l)order, and is joined below 
Hm-stboui"ne Park by a branch from the north-east. For the first few miles it is the 
ideal of a snuxll winding stream, and is established as a chalk stream of the first class 
at AVhitchurch. It skirts Harewood Forest, and takes in a tril)utary below 
Wherwell. The principal feeder is the Anton, which is of sufficient magnitude 
to be considered an independent river. For quite sixteen miles the Test runs 
a sinuous course, as if not certain Avhich point of the compass to select, l>ut 
eventuall}' it goes straight soutli. Stockbrldge is the only considerable town, 
and that owes its reputation to ample training downs, and to the periodical races 
which rank high in that description of sport. Between this and Romsev there are 
many bye-waters, and it requires one accustonu'd to the country to distinguish the 
main river. 

Occasionally a salmon, taking advantage of a flood, will ascend as high as 
Stockbridge, but this does not happen every year. At Romsey, however, gentlemen 
anglers find their reward, though anything more unlike a salmon river could not be 
found, unless, indeed, it should be the Stour and the Avon, to which we shall come 
jjresently. The Test in its upper and middle reaches is seldom so deep that the 
bottom, and the trout and grayling for which it is justly celebrated, cannot be 
clearly seen. It gets less shallow below Houghton ]\Iill, and at Romsey there is water 
enougli for salmon of major dimensions. But the current is even and stately, 
salmon pools as they are understood in Scotland and Ireland do not exist, and there 
are forests of weeds to assist the fish to get rid of the angler's fly. The most 
noted landmark on the banks of the stream is Romsey x\bbey, long restored to 
soundness of fabric, yet preserving all the appearance of perfect Norman archi- 
tecture. Near it the first Berthon boats were built and launclied on the Test by 



(The Beailieu. 

the vicar, wlio-^o name is bnnio by tlii> luiiidy (•i.llM])sihl(> craft. The Tost oiitovs 
Soutlianiptoii Water at Keilliri(l>iv. wliicli is in a iiieasurc tlio jxirt of lading for 
the New Forest. 

There are tinv streams in tlie recesses of tlie Xew Forest little known to tlie 
outer world. Thi' l^Kviiiia" river is wt>rthy of mark on the maps, and when the 
tide is full it is a brinuning water-way into the heart of the forest. The acrea<ie of 
mud at low-water, however, detracts from its licaiity, and the upper portion, from 


TIIH IKMMf: AT IllAMl'TON COt'KT (/). '^4 I 

near to the tidal limit, is small and overurown. The ruins of lUaulicu 
Aljbc)-, set in the surroundinii-s of an cx(piisitc Xew Forest villaire, far from the 
shriek of the locomotive whistle, or the .smoke and busth' of a town, arc truly a 
" fair jdace." IJeaulieu is one of tin entrancing combinations of wood, wati'r, 
ruins, and village in the countv, and the Abljey i.s especially interesting from its 
e.stabli.shnient by King John, after o-casioned by a dream. 

'I'lic LvMixcTox river, the mainland channel op]tosite Yarmoutli. in the Isle of 
Wight, is tidal to the town, a tortuous creek in juw-watir. the com'se, however, 
duly mark<'d by .stakes and beacons. The great i'oet Laureate, Tenny.son, used to 
cross to his Freshwater Ii<ime bv tiiis route, and in the late 'tifties the writer of 
these words often look |iii>suge b\ llie Isle of >\'it:lil boats for the ])ri\i!ege of 

■21 /i7I7.7i'N' OF Oh'KAT JlHrTAIX. [Thf Hants Avox. 

gazing from a rcvoront distnnro at tho pn(>t. wlioso cloak, soft hroad-lniininod liat, 
and short idav pipe tilled from a packet of birds-eve. lillcd the youthful adorer Avith 
unspeakable admiration. 

The Lsle of Wight, garden of Englanil thougli it lias Ix-eu called, is povcrtv- 
strieken in the matter of running water, and it is not rich in woods. The princi})al 
river is the ^fedina. which, flowing from the foot of St. Catherine's Down to the 
Solent at East C'owes, divides the island into two hundreds. The prt'ttx village of 
Wootton is .situated on Fi.shljourne creek, alsn called AVonfton river. Tlu're are 
two Yars — the Yar which rises at Freshwater, and is tidal almost throughout 
to Yarnmuth Harbour; and the eastern Yar. at tlie liack of Niton. 

The famous salmon of ( "hristchureh, so niucli in rccjuest in the spring, when the 
i-nd of the time brings out the nets in the long oi»in " run "' between the town 
and the bay, come up from the English Chaniu-l on their aiuuial (piest of the 
.spa\ming grounds of the Avon and the St our. These rivers miite almost under 
the shadow of the splendidlv situated church and the jjriory ruins. The church 
was restored by the architect who performed a similar ofHce for Komscy ; and it is 
inider the tower at the west end of the navo that the singular Shcllcx- nunioiial is 
erected. The Avon has the tinest watershed in tho South of IJigland, and its 
feeders water much of Hampshire and a large portion ol' ^\ ilts. Its ti-ibutaries 
are numerous; even one of the two branches of its lieadwaters is formed bv the 
junction of minor .streams at Pew.sey. It has a wiiuling way fnmi Upavon, becomes 
a goodly stream at beautiful Amesbury, where it traverses the pleasure grounds of 
the Abbey, and cro.sses direct south Ijy Salisl)ury Plain to Old Saruni. TIh' Wiley 
and Nadder are the largest tributaries, the former entering the Avon near the seat 
of the Earl of l'cnd)roke at Wilton. The valleys of nuiiii stream and triluitaries 
alike are a siu-cession ui fine landscapes, nuule distinctive by the downs of vai'xing 
height, rising on either side, clothed at intervals with grand woods, and protecting 
sequestered villages and handets nestling at their feet. 

The environs of Sali.sburv are intersected in all directions I)v tlu' abundant 
water of Avon oi- its feeders, and the clear murnnuing runnels are lu'ard in its 
streets. The lofty ta]iering .spire of the glorious cathedral is the landmaik of Avon- 
side f(ir many a mile around, but the river etjually forces itself ui)on the notice of 
the stranger. There is no cathedral in Mngland better set for a lamlniaik than this, 
ami <jf none can it be more literallv said that di.stance lends cnihantuienl. It 
is on the watermead level, and ])robablv owes its position to the livcr. Old 
Sarum, perched upon its conical hill, had its fortiheil ca.-tlc and many an in- 
trenchment for defence, had its Norman cathedral and the pomp and imwcr of 
a proud ecclcsia-stical .settlement; Init it was exposed to tlir wind and weather, 
and the Sarmnites looked with longing eye at the fat vale behtw and its con- 
jinx-tioii of clear streams. Wherefore, muler Richard Le I'oer, its seventh bishop, 
there was migration thither; the present cathedral was commenced, the site, 

The Stour. ] 

SA L I SB rii Y CA THE PR A L . 


according to one legend, being- determined by the fall of an arrow shot as a 
token from the Old 8arum ramparts; and tlie new town soon gathered aromid it. 
At tirst the cathedral liad no spire; that crowning glory of the structure was 
added nearly a liundred }-ears later, and about the time when the Avork of 
demolition at (Jld Sarum had been concluded. The stone used in the new 
cathedral was brouglit from the Hindon quarries a few miles distant, and 


POOLE HAKBOl U yp. 24). 

Purbeck supplied the marble pillars. The best view of the cathedral, and of 
the straight-streeted and richly-befoliaged city, is from the northeastern suburb; 
and so gracefully is the building proportioned that it is liard to realise that tlie 
point of the spire is 4UU feet in air. 

The Stour rises at Six Wells, at Stourhead, in Willsliirc, and joins the Hamp- 
•shire Avon, as previously stated, at C'hristchurch, but is essentially a Dorsetshire 
river. It touches Somersetshire, and receives the Cale from "Wincanton, and other 
small tributaries, passing Gillingham, Sturminster. Blandford, and Wimborne, where 
it receives the Allen, which flows through More Critcliell. C'anford Hall, an Eliza- 
bethan mansion which received many of the Assyrian relics unearthed bv Layard ; 
Gaunt's and Park; and St. Giles' Park, reminiscent of "Cabal" Cooper 
and the other Earls of Shaftesbury, are also features of the Stour countrv. The 
clean little town of "Wimborne, where Matthew Prior was born, is made rich and 


nrrERS of geeat beitain. 

[The Frome. 

notalili' l)v its ancient !>[inst('r. wliicli as it stands retains lint little nf the (irii;-inal 
fiiunilatiun, tlmuirh the fine central tower dates from about lldO. and the Avestern 
tower from the middle of the fifteenth century. 

The next river in Horsetshire is the, foi-nied, as seems to he the 
fashion in AVessex, of two branches, both luiiting at ^laiden Newton. Fr;imj)ton 
Court, the seat of the Sheridans, is in this neiirhbourhood. The countv town of 
Dorchester rises from the bank of the river, and has magnificent avenues as 
high-road appi-oaches. The lilack Downs that interpose between the countrv that 
is fairlv i-cpresented bv the Blackmore vale of the limiting men furthei- north, 
and the sea at Weymouth, are bare enough; Dorchester is surrounded l)y chalk 
uplands, and it is, no doubt, because there were few forests to clear that the 
entire neighbourhood is remarkable for its Konian and llritisli remains. The 
trees around the town have fortunately l)een sedulously planted and preserved, and 
the avenues of sycamores and chestnuts on the site of the old rampart have 
somewhat of a Continental character. The well-defined remains of ancient camps 
are numerous on the slopes overlooking the Frome, ]\raiden Castle and the 
Roman amphitheatre l)eing wonderfully perfect in tlu'ir ty{)ical character. Yet, 
old-world as Dorche-ster is in its associations, it has few apjicarances of age, 
standing rather as a delightful example of the clean, healthy, quiet, well-to-do 
countrv town of the Victorian era, pleasantly environed, and lioasting several 
highwavs that were Iioman roads. 

Flowing through the sheep comitrv so graiiliicallv described by Mr. llardv in 
liis novels, the Frome arrives, after an inieventful course, at Wari^hani, and is 
discharged into Poole Harbour, a })lace of creeks and i.slands, sand and mud I)auks, 
regularly swelling with the incoming tide into a noble expanse oi water. 

William Slnior. 


BIDEFOKD nillDGE {p. 4S). 


ticncnil Characteristics — Som-ces of the Devon .Streams : -Exmuur and Dartmoor. The Ottek : Ottery Saint Mary and 
Samuel Taylor Coleridge. E.'smoor Streams : — The Exe : Its Source in The Ch;iins— The Barle— ITie Bathcrm— 
Tiverton and Peter BlundoU— Bicldeigh Bridge and the " King of the Gipsies " — The Culm— Exeter — Countess 
Weir — Exmouth. The Lvx : Oareford — The Doone Country —Malmsmead — Watersmeet— Lyndale — Lynton and 
Lynmouth. Dartmoor Streams : — The Teigx : 'Wallabrook— Chagford— Fingle Bridge— Chudleigh — The Bovey — Jfewton 
Abbot- Teignmouth. The D.\kt: Holne Chase — Buckfast Abbey— Dartington HaU- Totnes — The Lower Reaches — 
Dartmouth. The Ta\y. The T.iw : O.xenham and its Legend— Barnstaple— Lundy. The Torridge : The Oke- 
ment— Great Toi-rington — Bideford — Hubbastone. The Avon, Erme, and Yealm. The Plym : Dewerstone — The 
Jleavy and Plvmouth Leat— PIi,-mptan St. llary and Plraipton Earl- The Tluce Towns. 

^i^ .^^k'^-^':'r^>:\ ^fONCI tlie cliarms wliich make Devonshire, in Mr. Blackmore's 
-&^:j>l-.^' --' Jj^^Ji Avords, "the fairest of English counties," one need not hesitate 

!;."; to ffive the first iilace to its streams. They wlio know onh" 
its coasts, tliough they know them well, may walk delicatelv, 
for of much that is most characteristic of its loveliness tlicv are 
altogether ignorant. But anyone who has tracked a typical Devon 
river from its fount high up on the wild and lonely moorland to 
the estuary where it mingles its waters witli the inflowing tide, 
following it as it Ijrawls down the peaty hillsides, and winds its 
'■^^^ way through glen and gorge until it gains the rich lowlands where 

it rolls placidly towards its latter end, may boast that his is the knowledge of 
intimacy. Commercially, the Devonshire streams are of little account, for Nature has 
chosen to touch them to finer issues. Yet, for all their manifold fascinations, thej- 
have had but scant attention from the poets, who, instead of singing their graces in 
dignified verse, have left them, as Mr. J. A. Blaikie has said, to be ''noisily adver- 
tised in guide-books." At first sight the omission seems cmious enough, for the long 



loll of Devonshiro " worthies " is onlv less illustrious for its poets than for its heroes. 
IVrcliaiK'o the explanation of what almost looks like a eonspiraey of silenee is that 

the streams, full of allure- 
ment as they may be, are 
not rieh in associations of 
the poetic sort. Of legend 
they have their share, but 
for the most part it is 
le<rend imcoiith and <rrotes- 
(jue. such as may not easily 
be shaped into verse. Their 
appeal, in truth, is more 
to the painter than to the 
poet. For him they have 
provided innumerable "bits" 
of the most seductive 
descrij)tion ; and neither 
ag-ainst him nor against the 
angler — the artist aniong 
sportsmen — for wliom also 
bountiful provision has 
been made, can neglect of 
opportunity lie charged. 

It is in the royal 
"forests" of Exmoor and 
Dartmoor that nearly all the chief rivers of Devon take their rise. Of tliese 
moorland tracts, the one extending into the extreme north of the count v from 
Somer.setshire. the other forming, so to speak, its l)ackbone. Dartmoor is con- 
siderablv the larger ; and in High Willliayse and in the better known Yes 
Tor, its highest points, it touches an altitude of just over '.2,0011 feet, overtoj)ping 
Dunkerv iJeacon, the monarch of Kxmoor. liy some ;i70 feet. Between the 
two moors there is a general resemblance, less, however, of contour than of 
tone, for while Kxmoor swells into great billowy tops, the Dartmoor ]ilateau 
breaks up into rugged ''tors'" — crags of granite that have shaken oil their siantv 
raiment and now rise bare and gaunt aV)ove the general level. IJntli, as manv a 
Imnt.sman knows to his cost, are lieset ^\•ith treacherous bog.s, out of wliirli trickle 
streams innumerable, some, like the Wear Water, the chief headstream of tlie Kast 
I^vn, .soon to lose their identitv, others to bear to the end of their course names 
which the Knglish emigrant has deliirhfed to reproduce in the distant lands that 
he has colonised. Not strange is it that with loneliuos such as theirs. I'.xiuoor and 
Dartmoor alike .shoidil be the haunt of the mischief-loving pixiis. who carr\ oil 
children and leatl benighted waviarers into iiuagmires ; of the sj)ectral wisli-liound.s, 

Tiir nivEns of pevos. 

The Ottek.] 



whose cry is fearsome as the wailin<i- voice whicli Jolm Ridd heard " at grey of 
iiiglit " ; and of the rest of the uncanny brood who once had all the West Country 
for their domain. Exmoor, too, is almost the last sanctuary, south of the Tweed, of 
the wild red-deer; and hither iu due season come true sportsmen from far and near 
to have their pulses stirred by such glorious runs as Kingslcy has described. 

Of the streams that have their springs elsewhere than in the moors, tlie Axe, 
which belongs more tn Dorset and Somerset than to Devon, may, like the Sid, 
Ik- passed over with liare mention. But the Utter must not be dismissed so 
Ijrusquely, for though it cannot vie with its moorland sisters in beauty of aspect, it 
has other claims to consideration. Rising in the hills that divide Devon from South 
Somerset, it presently passes Honiton, still famous for its lace, and a few miles 
further on flows l)y the knoll which is crowned by the massive towers of the fine 
church of (_)ttery St. Mary, the Clavering St. Mary of " Pendennis." It was 
here, in 1772, that Samuel Taylor Coleridge, most gifted scion of a gifted stock, 
was born. His father, vicar of the parish and headmaster of the Free Grammar 
School, and withal one of the most amiable and ingenuous of pedants, whose 
favourite method of 
edifving his rustic con- 
gregation was to (piote from 
the Old Testament iu the 
original Hebrew, as " the 
immediate language of the 
Holy Ghost," died when 
Samuel Taylor was in his 
ninth year ; and the pen- 
sive child, who yet was not 
a child, was soon afterwards 
entered at Christ's Hospital. 
A frequent resort of his 
was a cave beside the Otter, 
known as " The Pixies' 
Parlour," where his initials 
may still be seen. Nor is 
this his only association 
with the stream. " I for- 
get," he writes, " whether 
it was in my fifth or sixth 
year ... in conse- 
quence of some quarrel 
between me and my brother, 
in the first week in October 
I ran away from fear of 



[The Exe. 

Exi;Ti:it ij>. 31). 

beiii^r wliippod, and passed tlio wliole night, a niglit of rain and stovm, on the 
Meak side of a hill on the Otter, and was tliere found at daylireak, witliout the 
power <»f using my limbs. al)ont six yards from llio naked l)ank of the river."' 
The experience may well 'have left its mark uj)on his sensitive nature, l)ut it is 
clear that he carried with him from his native ])lace a store of agreealih- recol- 
lections of the .><tream, of whose '•marine with willows gi'ey "' and " Ix'dded sand"' 
he afterwards wrote in affectionate strains. 

Leaving the Otti'r to pursue its pleasant, luit not exciting, course to ilie Ijiiilisli 
Cliannel, we )»iuss at a hound from the sunny south to one of tlie weirdest parts of 
l',xni<M>r, where the most important of the streams that rise in tlu> northern " ft)rest " 
have their hirth. The chief of them, innl. indeed, the longest of ;ill llie I )evonsliire 
rivers, the KxE, which has a live-and tilty miles long, oo/.es out oi a 
dismal swamp known as The (Jhains, in Somerset county, some two oi- three miles 
n< oC Simonsl)ath ; mid within a space of not moie tlian two miles sijuarc 

The Exe.] 



are the sniu'ces of three other streams — the Barle, which merges \A4th the Exc near 
Exl)ridg-e ; the West Lyii, which tlows northwards to the tinest spot on the Devon coast ; 
and the Bray, a tril)utary of the Taw. Looking around, one sees in every direction 
a waste of undulations rolling away to the horizon like a deeplv-furrt)wcd sea. 
Far away eastwards rises Dunkery, his mighty top now, as often, obscured by 
clouds which the western winds are slowly driving before them ; on the other 
hand stretches the North ^Molton Ridge, culminating in Span Head, which comes 
within about fifty feet of the stature of Dunkery himself. 

The infant Exe and the Barle are both brown, peaty streams, and their 
valleys, separated from each othei- by one of the Exmoor ridges, and following the 
same general soutli-easterly trend, have nuich in connnon, thougli that of the Barle 
is the less regular and more picturesfpie of the two. It is when they have each 
sped in the merriest-hearted fashion somewhere about a score of miles that they 
meet, forming a current which, as it rushes tumultuously beneath the arches that 
give to Exbridge its name, must be a full fifty yards wide. Now the Exe 
becomes a Devonshire stream, with a predominantly southerly course ; but as it 
approaches Oakford Bridge it Ijends to the west, then curving round to the east 

J%>io : U. T. Cun.ins. Emwuth. 

LXM'iVlll. 1 KUSI THE bEACON (ji. 34). 

30 PFTERf^ OF ORE AT UHITArX. [Thf Kxs. 

t«i meet the Bathcrni, fresh froin its contuft witli liaiuptoii, an old market town 
ceK'ltrated all over the West Country for its fairs and markets, whereat are sold 
the shafTgv little Exmoor ponies and the bold and niml)le Poiloek slieep. I'lie 
main stream still shows no disposition to play the laggard, but by this time it has 
left the moorland well behind, and, as we follow it among luxuriantlv timbered 
hills, it presently brings us to Tiverton, agreeably ])lared on its slopini:- left bank. 
Here it takes toll of the Lonian, wliich lias been in no haste to roniplete its course 
of ten miles, or thereabouts, from the Somerset boi-der. 

Of Twv-ford-town — for so the place was called in foi-niei- davs, in allusion to 
its fords across the Exe and the Lonuin at the jwints where now tlic streams are 
spanned bv bridges — the most salient feature from the Ijanks of the larger water 
is the Perpendicular tower of the Church of St. Peter. The body of the clnn-ch 
was virtually reconstructed in the 'sixties, with the fortunate exception of its most 
interesting feature, the Greenaway Chapel, founded nearly four hundred years ago 
bv the merchant whose nanu' it shares with the (piaint almsliouscs in Cold Street. 
What remains of the ancient castle, which stood hard t>\- tlie cluncli, has 
been converted into a modern dwelling and a farmhouse. llu' old CramuKir 
School, to(», on Loman Gi'een. is now divided up into private houses, a more 
commodious structure, in the Tudor style, having been reared a mile or so out 
of tl»e town to take its place. Wlio will begrudge good old Peter lUundcll 
the immortalitv wliich this famous school has conferred u])on his 
name? A native of Tiverton, he began life as an errand-boy. With his carefully- 
lioarded earnings, as Prince tells the story in his *• ^\"ol■tlli('s," he bought a piece 
of kersev, and got a friendly carrier to take it to London and then* sell it to 
advantage. So he gradually extendetl his operations, until he was able to p) to 
town himself, with as much stock-in-trade as a horse could carry. In London lie 
continued to thrive, and in due course was abh' to fullil the aiiil)ition of his life liy 
establishing himself in the town of his birth as a manufacturer of ker.seys ; and lieic 
he remaine<l until his death, at the ripe age of eighty. 

"Thou^rh 1 am not my.self a scholar," the good old man would say with luoud 
humility, '' 1 will be the nn-ans of makiiii,'- more .M'holars than any scholar in Kngland." 
And the school founded under his will in l(i(l-l has not failed to ju>tify his boast. 
'J'hc roll of " lilnndell's boys" includes a Inace of bishops ami an archbishop, the 
jtresent occn|)ant of the throne of Canterbury, who, liefore his translation to London, 
ruled with abundant vigour the diocese to whicli Tiverton belongs. Vet, without 
di.srespect to spiritual dignities, one may be pardoned for remembering with deeper 
interest that it was here that "girt Jan b'idd " lia<l his meagre schooliiii:-. and fought 
his groat fight with ilobiji Snell. John, liy tlie way, who left HlundeH's at the age 
of twelve, must have been consideral)l\- less stupid tlian he a]i|i(;nrd to bis c(iiitem- 
jjorarics, for when long afterwanls he canH> 1o describ(> the idiiibat lu' was alile to 
.Hnv that he re))lied t<i his antagonist "with all the w<'i;;lil and cadence nl jieiilhe- 
minieral cicsura " ; and althoujrh he modestly protests that hi- could "never make 


head or tail" of the expression, it is clear from his ejjithets tliat lie knew perfectly 
well A\liat he was writing aljout. 

But we have paused at the town of the fords too long, and nnist gird up our 
loins to follow the Exe southwards to the county town, through scenery which, if 
on the whole less picturesque than that above Tiverton, is pleasing as one of the 
most fertile of Devonshire vales cannot but be. Four miles lower down we tin<l 
ourselves at Eickleigh Bridge, one of the prettiest spots in this part of the Exe valley. 
Close by is Bickleigh Court, long a seat of the Devonshire Carews, and still belonging 
to members of the family, though sunk to the uses of a farmhouse. Bickleigh is of 
some note as the birthplace, towards the end (jf tlie seventeenth century, of Bampfylde 
Jloore Carew, "King of the Beggars." Son of tlie rector of the parish, he was 
sent to BlundelFs School, whence he ran away to av(jid punishment for some trifling 
escapade, and threw in his lot with a tribe of gipsies. Next he emigrated to New- 
foundland, but after a time came back, and soon signalised himself by eloping from 
Newcastle-on-Tyne with an apothecary's daughter, whom, however, he was afterwards 
good enough to marry. Having rejoined the gipsies, he became their king, and ruled 
over them until he was transpcn-ted to Maryland as an incorrigible vagrant. Before 
long he contrived to escape, and lived for a while ■with a band of Red Indians. 
When he returned to civilisation it was in the guise of a Quaker, a part wliich 
he successfully played until he grew weary of it, and once more came back to his 
native land and his nomadic life. Some say that he was afterwards prevailed upon 
to adopt more settled habits, but of his closing years little is known. 

The hill to the I'ight, a little below Bickleigh Bridge, is kuo^^Ti as Cadbury 
Castle, a Roman encampment, and from its summit may be seen, away to tlie south- 
east, athwart the river, Dolbury Hill, ^\•hich, according to the legend, shares with 
Cadbury a treasure of gold, guarded by a fiery dragon, who spends his nights 
flying from one hoard to the other. Now the Exe, flowing with a dignity befitting 
its maturity, receives the tribute of tlie Culm, which comes from the Blackdown Hills, 
on the Somerset border, passing Culmstock and Cullompton, and Killerton Park, a 
finely placed and magnificently wooded demesne of one of the most honourable of 
Devonshire houses, the Aclands. Over against the point of junction is Pynes, 
the seat of another family of high repute, the Northcotes, now Earls of Iddesleigh, 
looking down on the one side upon the valley of the Exe, and on the other upon 
that of the Creedy, a western afiluent after which the town of Crediton is named. 

As it approaches the ever-faithful city, lying like Tiverton on the left bank, 
the Exe is bordered by a green strath, with swelling hills on either hand. No 
sooner is the suburb of St. David passed than there comes into view the 
eminence which formed the limits of the ancient Exeter, its summit crowned with 
trees that half conceal the meagi'e remains of the Norman castle, while from its 
southern slope rise the mighty towers of the Cathedral. Pointing out that, 
although surrounded by hills higher than itself, Exeter is seated on a height far 
above river or railwa\ , Freeman remarks that we have here " what we find so 



[The Exe. 

coinmoiily in (iaul. so rarely in Hritaiii, tlic (Vltic liill-fui-t. wliicli has <;r(nvii info 
the lioman city. Avhit-li has livt-d on tln-oui,'-h thi- Tculonic roniiucst. and wliit-li 
still, after all ehanjres, keeps to its place as the luuloulited head oi' its own district. 
In A\ essex such a history is uniipie. In all Southern England London is the only 

«AT1.1(.-MK1.T {p. So). 

parallel, and that lint an imperfect one." And he jjfoc^s on to say that the name 
teac-hes the same lesson of continuity that is tauj^ht hv the site. It has hecn 
chan;:ed in form hut not in meaning'', f'aerwisc, "the fortress on the water," as it was 
in the he^.nniiinf^ of thinj^s, " has liecn l-atinised into Isca, it has heen Teutonised 
into KxanceiLster, and cut short into modern Kxeter: Inil the city by the \'.\v lias 
throufrh all c«)n<pie.sts, throu;.,di all dian^'^es of lanj^iia^c. ])ro(lainicd itself liy its name 
as the citv on the Exo." 

The Exe.] 



The Castle of Rougemont is represented by not nuioli more than an ivy -clad gate- 
way tower of Xorman date, and portions of the walls, which on one side have 
been levelled, and the timbered slopes converted into a pretty little recreation ground, 
known as Northernhay, where, among the statues of men whom Devonshire delights 
to honour, is one of the first Earl of Iddeslcigh, gentlest of protagonists. Of the 
cathedral little can be said in this place except that it admirably exemplifies 
the development of the Decorated style, which here reaches its culmination in the 


venerable west front, its lower stage enriched A\'ith figures of kings and apostles 
and saints. The massive transeptal towers that distinguish Exeter from all other 
English cathedrals, and, indeed, from all other English churches, with the sinole 
exception of that of Ottery St. ^fary, Ijuilt in imitation of this, are much earlier 
than the rest of the fabric, for thev were reared earh' in the twelfth c(Mitur\- hv 
Bishop Warelwast. nephew of the Conqueror, and were left standing wlien, tcnvards 
the end of tlie thirteenth century, the reconstruction of tlie rest (jf tlie faljric was 
begun. Disproportionately large they may be, in relation both to their own height 
and to the body of the church ; but, if they cannot be said to contribute to the 
harmony of the design, it must be allowed that in themselves thev are exceedingly 

The transformation of the cathedral, begun by Bishop Bronescomlic. was continued 
by his successor, Peter Quivil, whose plans appear to Iiave been prettv faithfully 
followed by those who came after him. Not until the year 1369 Avas the nave 



finislied, under (Tramlissiin. tlie bishoji who ro-built tlu' cliuirli of Ottcry St. ]Maiy 
in its present form ; and even then it was left to Bi.><hop Brantx'nuliam to add the 
rieh west fi'ont. What most strikes one about the interior, whicli M-as restored witli 
HO lack of vigour by Sir Gilbert Scott, is the prolonged streteh of graceful 
vaulting, extending through all the fourteen bays of nave and choir, with, of 
course, no centi'al tower to lireak the line. There is much ln'autiful carving-, 
both ancient and modern, in the church, but the bishop's throne, attributed to 
Bishop Stajdedon (l-'iO? -^f)), i.s perhaps of rather diffuse design, although the crafts- 
manshij) merits all the admiration that has been lavished upon it. 

Around the Close, and in a few of the older streets, some interesting .specimens 
of domestic architecture are to be seen; but, the cathedral and its adjuncts apart, 
Exeter is rich than miglit be expected in memorials of the distant past. Of 
its public buildings, the onlv one which may not he ignori'd is the Guildhall, a 
.stone structure dating fi'oni the end of the sixteenth century, with a balustraded 
facade resting on substantial piers, and projecting over the pavement. The ancient 
bridge over the Kxe, connecting the city with St. Thomas, its western suburb, was 
destroyed in 1770, and replaced by the present one. 

Hundreds of rears have come and gone since the cliffs of Exeter were lapped 
by salt water. Towards the end of the thirteenth century Isabella de l\edvcrs. 
Countess of Devon, was pleased to cut off the city from the sea by forming the 
weir which has given name to the village of Countess AVeir, ami it was not till 
tlie reign of Heiuy VIII. that, by means of a canal to To])sham, connnunication 
was rc-e.stablishod. p]arlv in the present century this waterway was widened, and 
now Exeter is accessible to vessels of about 4:0U tons. It is at Topsliam, four 
miles below the city, that the river, augmented by the waters of the Clyst, expands 
into an e.stuary. From this point to the embouchure its course lies through 
delightful scenery. On the right bank are the woods of I'owderham Castle, the 
ancestral seat of the Earls of Devon, .stretching from tlie water's l)rink to the 
sununit of the high ground behind ; awav to the Avcst, IlaldoiTs long ridge rises 
as a .sky-line, dividing the valley of the Exc fiom tliat of the Tcign ; and 
finally comes On the left bank, about midway between Toj)s]iani ami 
I'ixmoutli, is Lympstonc, a pi'etty, straggling fishing village. To I^xnioutli, lying 
over against Starcross, belongs the distinction of Jjcing the oldest of the numerous 
trilif of Devonshire watering-places. A port of some con.setjuence in very eaily 
days, it presently fell into an obscurity from which it was only rescued in the 
last century through the agency of one of the judges of assize, avIio, sojourning 
here for the good of his health while on circuit, was .so advantaged by its genial 
breezes that he spread abroad its ))raises, and so gave it another start in life. 
Its attractions ma\- be less insistent tliaii those of other places that were mere 
fishing- villagi's long after it had become a popular resort, but it has a, jdcasant 
beach and a very respectable proinenadc. ami witli still more reason is it proud of 
the views U> be had from The IJeacon. 

TheLtn.] the DOONE country. 35 

The Lyn, sometimes called the East Lyn, to distinguish it from the West Lyn, 
is one of the shortest as it is one of the most wilful of the Devonshire streams, its 
length not exceeding a dozen miles, while in a direct line its outlet is only half that 
distance from its source. Rising on Exmoor, a little to the north of Black Barrow 
Down, its iipper valley is hlcak and bare, and in this part of its career there is little 
to differentiate it from otlu'r moorland waters hurriedly leave the drearv solitudes 
in which they have their l>irth. Ahove Oureford it dashes and splashes along over 
boulders and rocky ledges, the hills that rise from either bank Ijoing bare of aught 
but ling and brake and heather, save that the lower slopes bear here and there a 
group of wind-swept scrub-oaks ; it is only lower down that the ravine assumes the 
combination of wildness and luxuriance in which Lj-n is excelled by none of its 
sister streams. How can we pass Oareford without recalling that we are in the 
country- of John Ridd and the Doones ? It was in the parish of Oare that the giant 
5'eoman was born and bred ; it ^\■as in the little Perjiendicular church of St. Mary 
that he married the lovely but elusive Lorna Doone ; it was from its altar that he 
sallied forth to pursue the man whom he believed to have slain his bride, his only 
weapon the limb of a gnarled oak which he tore fi"om its socket as he passed Ijeneath 
it. Many there be who come into these parts to spy out tlie land, and to such 
it is a pleasant surprise to tind that there are still Ridds of the Doones engaged 
upon the soil at Oare. Less j^alatable is the discovery that Mr. Blackmore has 
thought tit to mix a good deal of imagination with his word-pictures. The 
Badgworthy " slide," in j^^^i'ticular, which the hero was wont to climb in order to 
get speech of the captive maiden, has been the occasion of grievous disappoint- 
ment. It is at Malmsmead that tlie Badgworthy Water — the dividing line between 
Devon and Somerset — falls into the Lyn, and ''makes a real river oi it"; the 
"slide," a mile or so up the " Badgery " valley, as they call it hereabouts, is 
simply a succession of minute cascades formed by shelving rocks over which a 
little tributary stream glides down out of the Doone Yalle)'. 

The novelist has not scrupled to take ample liberties with such of his characters 
as are not purely imaginary, as well as with his scenes ; but, unless tradition 
is a very lying jade, the Doone Valley really sheltered a gang of rol)bers, said 
to have been disbanded soldiers who had fought in the Great Rebellion. One 
may still see traces of what are believed to have been then- dwellings, though one 
writer profanely identifies them with pig-sties ; and it is credil)ly stated that the 
destruction of the miscreants by the country-folk was provoked l)y the cruel murder 
of a child, as described in the romance. Nor may one doul)t tliat tlie miglitv 
John was an actual personage, though it were vain to seek for his history in 
biographical dictionaries. As to Lorna, what if ]\Ir. Blackmore has invented her? 
Is that to be counted to him for unrighteousness ? 

From Malmsmead, with its primitive bridge of two arches, to Watersmeet, where 
the Brendon Water plunges down a charming glen on the left to lose itself in 
the larger stream, the Lyn ravine is a very kaleidoscope of beauty and graiuleur. 



[The T,i-n. 

Watersmeet, " an exciuisitc combination of -nootl and stream, tlic one almost hiding 
the water, the other leaping down over rocky ledges in a series of tiny cascades," 

in--*^ r:x r^ ' 1 --i^i v".-j pencil, and is certainly no theme for a prosaic pen: and of 

- "•ivinT confession must be made. Evorv tiir''. r^ 'v 

- .iuL- mv: beauty, until, with I>ynton lying in tlic cup of a lU.i u^i viie 

1 I VM lUlIDGE OVEli Till; 

left, one readies L\iimi>iitli, wliere, just before the river plunges into tlie sea, it 
receives the waters of the West Lyn as tliey merrily tuml)le out of Olen Lyn. 
Southcv, whose descripti(m of these and other features of the place has been (pioted 
to the ])oiiit of weariness, was one of tlie iirst to "discover "" Lynnioutli ; iind in 
these days it lias no reason to eoniplaiii tliat its imrivalled attractions are not 
apiireciated. For some years it lias had its little mountain railway, to spare 
those whose chief need is exercise tlie fatigue of walking uj) ihe bill to Lyiiton ; 
an«l now the lines have been laid which briii^ it into loucli with ihe South 
Western and Great Western systems at 13arnstaj)le. Let us hope that it will not 
presently have to ci)iii]ilain of defacement at the hands of the lodging-house Imilder, 

The Teion.] 



and of desecration inflicted upon if by hordes of day-trippers, with their beer- 
bottles and greasy sandwich-papers! 

Dartmoor is a much more proHfic "mother of rivers" than Exmoor. In one of 
the l(Mielie8t and dreariest reoions of tlie southern "forest," no o-reut way from its 

i'hoto : Frith. 6: Co., Jieigatc, 


northei-n extremity, is the fpiagniirc known as Cranmere Pool, and from tiiis and 
the sloughs that surround it ooze all the more important of the Devonshire streams 
except the Exe and the Torridge. Out of Cranmere Pool itself — a prison, according 
to local legend, of lost spirits, whose anguished cries are often borne on the wino-s 
of the wind — the West Okement drains, to flow northwards to the Torridge ; and 
at distances varying from half a mile to a coujJe of miles, the Teign, the Dart, 
the Tavy, and the Taw have their birth. The Okement will be noticed presently, 
when we have to do with the Torridge ; of the other rivers, the Teign rises in two 
headstreams, the North and the South Teign, near Sittaford Tor. As is the way 
of these moorland waters, they are soon reinforced by ti'ibutary rills, among them 
the Wallabrook, which flows by Scorhill Down to join the North Teign. Scorhill 
Down has in its stone cii'cle one of the most remarkable of those mysterious relics 


of an immemorial past in wliiili Dartmoor abounds. At one time all such remains 
were regjirded, like those at 8tonelienge, as Druidical monuments, but this theory 
of their origin is no lonjrer in fashion, and antiquaries now prefer to sav nothing 
more specific than that they usually have a sepulchral significance, and betoken 
that regions now abandoned to the curlew and the buzzard once had a considerable 
pojiulation. Xear 8c<irhill the Wallabrook is bestridden bv a '"clam" bridge. Avhich, 
interpreted, means a bridge of a single slab of unhewn stone resting on the ground. 
as distinguished from a ''dapper" bridge, consisting of one or more such slabs 
pillared on others, witli no aid from mortar. 

The North and the South Teign merge at Leigh liridge, close by Holv Street 
and its jncturesque mill, which has furnished a theme for the pencil of many an 
artist besides Creswick. Then tlir Teign tlows undei- the old bridge at C'hagford. 
a Wllage overhung on one side by two rocky lulls. The tine air of the place and 
its convenient situation for the exjjloration of Dartmoor bring to it many ALsitors 
in the sunmier ; but it is certainly no place for a winter sojouiii. The story goes — 
and racv of the soil it is — that if a C'hagford man is asked in summer where he 
lives, he rejdies, as saucily as you j)leaso, " ( "haggyford, and what d'ye think, 
then":''' Jiut if the question is put ti. him in winter, lie sadlv answers. " ("jiaggy- 
ford, good Lord ! " 

At Cliagford the vallev broadens out, but soon it again contracts, and. 
sensiblv quickening its speed, Teign })lunges headlong into what is perhaps 
the very finest of all the gorges in Devonshire. Xear the entrance is a 
"logan" .stone, a huge boulder of granite about a dozen feet long, so finely 
poised that it may with a very moderate exercise of force be mad(> to 
rock, though it is less accommodating than when Polwlule. a century ago. 
succeeded in moving it with one hand. The finest view of the gorge is that 
to be got from Fingle Bridge, a couple of miles lower down, where, looking back, 
one .sees liow the .stream ha.s wound its wav amid the interfolded hills, of which 
the steep .slopes arc clad with coppice of tender green. Here, on the left, is 
Prestonbury, and on the right the htftier Cranbrook, each ci-owned with its pre- 
histonc " ca.stle." Uf the narrow, ivy-mantled bridge, sinqile and massive, an illus- 
tration is given (p. o7) showing the wedge-shaped ])iers which serve to lu'eak the 
fury of the toiTcnt in time of spati-. 

Hut we hurry on j) Clifford Mill and its Inidge to Dunsford Bridge, 
another .spot of singular beauty. On the riiilit Ileltor, on the left Blackstone, 
exalt their towering heads, both crowned with l;n;.;c " rock liasins."' in whicli the 
rude fancy of our forefathers saw missiles that King Arthur and the CJreat Adversary 
Inn-led at each other athwart the intervening vallev. So, ])assing more and more 
within the marg-in of cultivation, we come to ('liudlei^li. witli its Kock. yielding a 
blue limestone, known to the builder as Chudleigh nuirlde, and its lovely, richly- 
wooded jrlen, down which a little tributarv dances gaily into the Teii:!!. Not a 
great way beyond, our river is swollen i)V the waters of a more important aflliient, 

The Teign.] 



the Bovey, whicli, from its source on Dartmoor, lias followed a course not dissimilar 
from that of the Teign, lilting along through a rich and often spacious valley, past 
North Bovey, Manaton, Lustleigh, with its "Cleave," and Bovey Tracy. At Newton 
Abbot, pleasantly placed a little to the south of the Teign, in a vale watered by 

, Venney it" C\>., Tcifjiimouth. 

TEIGXMOVTH (p. 40). 

the Lemon, we may have line vieAVS of the valleys of the Teign and the 
Bovey by ascending the hills up which this neat little town has straggled. Its most 
memorable association is mth the glorious Revolution, and there still stands in front 
of a Perpendicular tower, which is all that is left of the old Chapel of St. Leonard, 
the l)lock of granite from which the Prince of Orange's proclamation was read. 
Now swerving sharply to the east, the Teign develops into an estuary, and 



[The Teion. 

with a bafki:rouiul nf liills on oitluT liaiul, those du the loft rising into the broad 
downs of Ilaltlon, hastens to discharge itself into the sea, flowing beneatli what 
elainis to l»e the longest wooden bridge in England, wliieh connects Teignniouth on 
the north with Shaldon on the south. Teignniouth is an ancient iisliinii-village 

NEW iminr.E. 

whicli lia> grown into a waleriiig-placc IT the sti>i-\- tiial it sud'crcd at tlic hands 
of llaidsli pirates in the eighth centurx' is an error due to rdnl'usinn Ix'tween Teign- 
nioutli and Tyneniouth, it was induljitably ravaged 1)\ the French at tlie end of 
the seventeenth century. In tliese days its chi<'f f(>ature is the Den. a sandbaidc 
due to the shifting bar that olisfrmts tlie mouth of the r'tvrr. but now converted 
into an esjdanade, whence, hioking inhnid, one sees the twin peaks of liextor and 
other outlying hills of Daitmoor, while to the soutli, along tlie shoredine, ajijx'ais llie 
bold promontory known as 'l^iie Ness, and on the north stand out the (piaint 
pinnacles of red rock which the |)atient waves have carved into sliapes that have 
w.iu for them the designation of tlie " I'arson and the ( 'Icrk." 

The l>Ai;r nia\ be said to attain to self-consciousness at i>artnieet. wheic in a 
deep and lovely valley tlie rapid f)asf and West Dart mingle their foaiiiing waters. 

The Dart.] 



The two streams rise at no g-roat distance from each other, in the neighbourhood, 
as we have seen, of Cramnere Pool ; and they arc never far apart, but the Avesteru 
water follows a somewhat 
less consistently south- 
east course, past Wistman's 
Wood — a grim assem- 
blage of stunted, storm- 
beaten oaks, springing up 
amidst blocks of granite 
— and Crockern Tor and 
Two Bridges ; while the 
eastern stream, from its 
source at Dart Head, speeds 
by Post Bridge and Bella- 
ford, crossed at both places 
by "clam" bridges. 
Hurrying impetuously along 
over a shallow rocky bed, 
with a monotonous clatter 
which is locally known as 
its "cry," Dart washes the 
base of Benjay Tor, and 
rushing beneath New 
Bridge— a not unpictur- 
esque structure, des^iite its 
unpromising name — enters 
a riehlv timbered glade. 
Presently, as its valley 
deepens, it makes a wide 
circuit to wander past the 
gloi'ious demesne of Holne 
Chase. Bevond the woods 
which stretch awa}' for 
miles to the north-east, 
Buckland Beacon rears his 
giant form ; on the other 
side of the stream is the 
little village of Holne, birth- 
place of Charles Kingsley, whose father was rector here. A mile or so 
above Buckfastleigh, on the right bank, are the ruins of Buckfast Abbey, consisting 
of little more than an ivy-clad tower and a sjiacious barn. Originating in the tenth 
century, this house was re-founded in the reign of Henry II., and grew to be the 





[The D.ujt. 

richest Cistercian abliov in all I^evon. From the Dissolution till the beginnin": of the 
present centurv the site remained desolate. Then a mansion in the Gothic style Avas 
built upon it. and this is now occupied Ijy a connnunity of Benedictine monks 
from Burjrundv, who have in part re-built the monastery on the old foundatimis. 

Beyond ^nloky Buckfastleigh and its spire, the Dart flows amoiiir lush meadows 
and around wooded hills, past Dean Prior, with its memories of Merrick, and 
Staverton, where it is crossed by a strongly buttressed bridge. Now it again makes 

*'-«♦'• ?T 

^^^g- *«• ^^^S 


a bend eastwards to enclose the line grounds of Dartingtnn Hall, 'riic house, paitly 
in ruins, is comiiuindingly placed high above llie densely wooded light liank; and 
the oldest ]>art of the structin-e, the (Jreat Hall, dates from the reign of liicliard 11., 
whose liadge, a white liart chained, appears on one of the doorways. .Soon Totnes 
conies into view, dimliing the steep right bank and spreading itself over the suinmit, 
its salient features the ruined ivy-draped shell of tin- Norman castle on llie 
crest of the hill, and the ruddy pinnacled tower ot' the church. 

Totnes lias not .scrupled to claim to be the oldest town in Kngland. and, (piite 
half way up the acclivity, far above the highest water-mark of the Dart, thev show 
the .stone on which lirutc .set foot at the end of his voyaga> from ruined Troy. 
Few i)laces can better afford to dispense with fabulous jiretensions, for the 
evidences of its antirpiitv di-claie themselves on <'very hand. Its name is allowed 
to l»e ,\nLdo-SaNon. and i( is thought to lie not impiohalile that its castle monnd 
w.ts first a i'.i-itish stroiiLjhold. A considerable jiart of the ancient wall is left 

The Dart.] 



standin*;', and the East Gate 
still divides High Street 
from Fore Street. Very 
quaint and eliainiing are many 
of the old houses in the High 
Street, with their gahles and 
piazzas; and the venerahle 
Ciulldhall i)reserves its oaken stalls 
for the members of the Corporation, 
■with a canopied centre for the 
Mayor. Below the town is the grace- 
ful three-arched bridge which connects 
it with Bridgetown Pomeroy, on the 
left bank; and from this one may 
descend by steps to the tiny island 

in mid-stream, some years ago laid totnes. 

out as a public garden. 

It is the ten miles or so of river between Totnes and Dartmouth that have 
earned for the Dart the title of "the English Rhine." The absurdity of likening 
the inconsiderable Dart, with its placid current and its backing of gently-sloping 



[Thf Dakt. 

liills. to the brniul ami nisliiii;^- Kliine. Haiikod Ity lofty, castlo-ciowned stO('j)s, lias 
befoi-e iK'on exposeil. l>ut tlio nickname is still turrcnt. and wliik' it remains so the 
pnjtcst must eontiniu'. Yet how manifold and bowdtching are the jirafes of the 



stream in these lower reaches, where it curves and 
doubles until from some joints of view it appears to 
be resolved into a series of lakes, embosomed among 
hills of softest contour, their braes either smooth and 
verdant as a lawn or rich witli foliage! Not long after 
leaving Totnes one sees, on the right, Sliarpliam House, 
surrounded liv lawns and ])arterres and by magnificent 
woods, which border tlie stream for at least it mile. 
Sandridge House, on the opposite bank, is not;.lile as 
the birthplace of John Davis, the Klizabctha i navi- 
gator, who (li.scovered the Straits which arc known 
among men bv his name; and ])resently we shall jiass 
the well wooded grounds of Greeiuvav, where was lioiii Sir Ilumjihrev (nll)ert, 
another of the lieroes of great Eliza's ''sjiacious davs,"' who established the Xew- 
foundltnid lishcrics. Uetween these two points comes l>iltisliam. witli its grey 
ilnnvli tower, its famous plnm orcliards. and its bell, which is rung when one 
wants to be ferrieil t)ver to (ireenwav (^Muiv. Soon the Dart liegins to widen out. 
and, tlirea«ling our wav among vachts and skiffs, we come within sight ol' the 
Urifiinniii training-ship, ami tnid ourselves lietwixt Dartmouth on the right, and 
Kingswear f»n the left. 

Ihirtmoutli, rising from the l)ank in terraces, wears an aspect luirdjy less ancient 
than that of Tofnes. it was incorpoi-ated in the fourteeiilli century, but for 

The Tavy.] 


hundreds of years before tliat was of note as a harl)our. William the Conqueror 
is said to have sailed herofrom on his expedition for the relief of Mans ; a century later 
the English fleet, or a jiart of it, gathered here for the third (-rnsade; and did not 
Chaucer think that j^robably his shipman "was of Dertemuthe"? The castle, close 
to the water's edge, at the mouth of the harbour, is something more than the 
picturesque remnant of an ancient fortress, for the. wall and foss which surround 
it enclose also a casematod battery of heavy guns. On the crest of the hill behind 
are the ruins of Gallant's Bower Fort. Xearly opposite is Kingswear Castle, which 
claims an even more remote origin ; and crowning the hill at whose base it lies 
are some remains of Fort Ridley, which, like Gallant's Bower, was wrested from the 
Parliamentarians by Prince j\Iaurice, both strongholds, however, being afterwards 
stormed by Fairfax. The harbour, though a fine, broad sheet of water, is almost 
landlocked, and the entrance to it is through a strait channel known as " The Jaw- 
bones," which in more primitive days tlian these was protected by a strong chain 
stretching from one bank to the other. 

Of the two remaining streams that rise in the morasses around Cranmere Pool, 
the Tavy runs a course which, though not long, is remarkable for the grandeur and 
the richness of its scenery. Did space permit, one would be glad to follow it 
from its ppaty spring under Great Kneeset Tor, through the grand defile known 


as Tavy Cleave, on between Peter Tavy and Mary Tavy to Tavistock, with its 
statue of Drake, who was born hard by, and its associations with the author of the 


"Pastorals": thence past Bucklaiul Abbey, rieli in niomories of Sir Francis and of 
the Cistercian monks from whom the neighbouring viUage of Buckland 31onachorinn 
gets its distinctive appeUation, and so to Tavy's conttuence with th(> Tanuir. Pleasant 
also would it be to trace its principal tributary, the Walkham, down its 
romantic vallev, nor less so to track the Lid from its source, a few miles above 
Lidford, through its magnificent gorge, and onwards to its union with Tanuir. 
But the sands are fast running out. and ^\•e must pass on to sketch ver}- rapidly 
the cai-eer of the Taw as it flows iirst north-eastwards, then north-westwards, to 
meet the Torridge in Barnstaple Bay. 

in the first part of its course the Taw, which the Exe exceeds in length 
bv only five miles, is as frisky and headstrong as tlie rest of the moorland 
streams, but as soon as it has got wvW within the lin(> of civilisation it sobers 
down, and thereafter demeans itself sedately enough. Tlic fiist place of interest 
which it pa.sses is South Tawton, where is Oxenhaui, now a farmhouse, liut 
formerlv the si^at of a family of this name who lived here from the tiiiie of 
Ilenrv III. until early in the present century. Of tliese Oxenhams it is an ancient 
tradition that a Avhite-breasted bird is seen when the time has come for one of 
them to be gathered to his fathers. The last appearance of tlie portent was in 
1873, when ^Ir. (i. X. < )\enharn, then the head of the house, lay dying at 17, 
Earl's Terrace, Kensington. His dauijliter and a friend, tlie latter of whom knew 
nothing of the legend, were sitting in the room undcrneatii the cluunber of death 
when, to quote from Murray's ''Handbook," their attention "was suddenly roused 
by a shouting- outside the house, ami on looking out they saw a lai'ge white liird 
jjerched on a thorn tree outside the window, where it remained for several minutes, 
although some workmen on the opposite side of the mad were tlirowing their hats 
at it in the vain effort to drive it away." An interesting occurrence, certainly ; Ijut 
if we are to see in it more than a coincidence, Avhat is to be said of the i)uthn, the 
only one of its tribe ever recorded to have visited London, Avhich, having foinid 
its way so far inland, flew into the rooms of the President of the British Ornithologists' 
Union? Must we believe that the adventurous bird was moved to call there in 
order that its feat might be duly recorded in the Proceedings of tlu' Institution':' 

It is below Nymet Rowland that Taw changes its com-se. Tiieiu-cforward it 
placidly flows amid rich meadows agreeably diversified with woodland. At Eggesford 
it is overlooked by the Larl of Portsmouth's seat, jjceping out from the trees wliich 
clind) the left bank. At Chuhnleigh it gathers up the Little Dart: and biyoiid Smith 
MoIt<in lioad Station the ]\Iole, which gives name to Xoith .Mullen and South Muhnn, 
brings in its tribute from the border of Exmoor. Having laved the foot of Ooddon 
Hill, from whr).se rounded top one may have far views of the valley in l)oth direc- 
tions, tla- Taw flows by the cosy little village of Uisliop's Tawton on the right; along 
the other bank stretches Tawstock Park, tlie demesne of the Bourcliier-Wreys, set 
altout with fine old oaks. Then with a sudden IkmkI it comes within sight of 
Burn.staple Bridge, and iKyond the Soutii Walk, on tlie right bank, bordering a 


pretty little park, appear the graceful tower of Holy Trinity Chm-cli — an iinnsuallv 
effective j^iece of modern Perpendicular work — and the ugly warped .spii'e of the 
motlier church. 

The "metropolis of North Devon," as this comely and lusty little town proudly 
styles itself, is a very ancient place, which had a castle and a priory at least as far 
back as the time of the Concpieror; but these have long since vanished, and save 
for a row of cloistered almshouses dating from 1627, and its bridge of sixteen arches, 
built in the tliirtcenth century, it is indebted for its savour of antiquity mainly to 
the venerable usages that have survived the changes and chances of the centuries. 
Like Bldeford, long its rival among North Devon towns, it fitted out shijjs for the 
fleet which gave so good an account of the Spanish Armada. During the Civil War 
it declared for the popular cause, but was captured by the king's forces in liii'-i ; 
and although it soon succeeded in flinging oS the royal yoke, it was re-captured, 
and remained in tlie king's hands until nearly the close of the war. 

Just below the hideous bridge which cai-ries the South Western line across the 
Taw is the Quay, on the right Ijank, and beyond it, lined by an avenue of 
ancient elms, is the North Walk, now unhappily cut up for the purposes of the 
new railway from Lynton. The stream, by this time of consideraljle breadth, 
widens out yet more during the five or six remaining miles of its course; but its 
channel is tortuous and shifting, and only by small vessels is it navigable. A few 
more bends, and Instow and Appledore are reached, and Torridge is sighted as it comes 
up from the south to blend its Avaters with those of the sister stream. Then far 
away over the curling foam of Barnstaple Bar wc get a full view of Lundy, its 
cliffs at this distance looking suave enough, though in truth they are not less jagged 
than wlien the Spanish galleon fleeing from Amyas Leigh's Venr/cance was impaled 
upon their granite spines; while on the left Hartland Point boldly plants its foot in 
the Atlantic, and on the right Baggy Point marks the northern limit of Barnstaple Bay. 

It is at no great distance from Hartland Point that the Torridge, most circuitous 
of Devonshire rivers, rises. First flowing in a south-easterly direction past Newton 
St. Petrock and Shebbear and SheepAvash, it presently makes a bend and follows an 
almost precisely opposite course north-AvestAvards. In about the middle of the loop 
which it forms in preparing to stultify itself, it is augmented by the Okement, 
Avliich has come almost due north from Cranmere Pool, brawling down a valley 
Avhich, near Okehampton and elsewhere, is finely wooded. Past YeAV Bridge and 
Dolton and Beaford, Torridge continues its sinuous course ; and as it approaches 
Great Torrington, set on a hill some 300 feet above its right bank, its A^alley 
presents the combination of smooth haugh and precipitous rock shown in om- vieAV 
(page -19). Torrington has a history, and little besides. Even the church, 
enclosed in a notably jn-etty God's acre, graced with avenues of beeches and 
chestnuts, has no special interest save that it contains the carved oak pulpit in 
which the great John HoAve preached liefore his ejectment in 1662 ; for it had 
to be rebuilt after the Civil War, having been bloAvn up by the accidental explosion 



[TllL TolUUUGE. 

of a larffe quantitv of o:unpowder while it was being used as a inajiazine and prison. 
Two lani(b-ed Kovalists were confined in the l)iiildini;- at tlie time, and these, with 
theii" iriiards. all perished. Winding round Torrington Common, gay in due season 

xUiij LtX'S., Larii^UipU. 


witli giirse and bracken, our river glides on past Wear (Jifford — an idyllicnlly 
beautiful spot incongruouslv associated with a melancholy tragedy — to t'lc •• littli" 
white town" described by Charles Kingslcv in the o])cning paragraph of his one 
great storv. White it hardly is in these days, l)ut tliis is the only qualilication tliat 
sti-ict accuracy rerpiires. The famous bridge of four-and-twenty arches dates from 
about the same period as that at Jiarnstaple, whicli it considerably exceeds in lengtli. 
The town itself lays claim to a nuich higher anti(|uity, for it traces its origin to a 
cousin of the Conqueror, fomider of the illustrious line which came to full Hower 
in the Kichard (Trenville who, as he lay a-dying, after having matched tlie llcvcniic 
against the whf)le Spanish fleet of threc-and-fifty sail, was alile ])roudly to say, in a 
spirit not unlike that of a later naval hero, that he was leaving behind him " an 
everla-sting fame of a valiant and true soldier, that hatli ihmc his iJut;/ as he was 
bound to do.'" lie it was who revived the t'oituiies of IJidei'ord after a period of 

The Touridge.] 



decline, and so increascil 
its j^rosperity bv attract- 
ing to it trade from the 
settlements in the Xew 
World that it Avas able 
to send seven ships to join 
the fleet that gathered 
in Plymouth Harbour to 
fight the Spaniard. AVith 
memories such as these, 
the town niay surely 
abate its eagerness to 
have accepted as Armada 
trophies the old guns 
which have been un- 
earthed from its dustheap. 

Pleasant the course of thr 
stream continues to be, past " the 
charmed rock of Hubbastone," 
where sleeps an old Norse piiat(\ 
with his crown of gold, till, ^\ith 
Instow on the right and Apphdou 
left, Torridge meets her sist(>i Ta\\, 
two with one accord turn westward and loll 
towards "the everlasting thundtu" oi the long 
Atlantic swell." 

Of the streams that have their fountains 
on Dartmoor, the longer ones I'ise, as we 
have seen, in the northern division of the 
'' forest " ; the shorter ones, the Avon, the 
Erme, the Yealm, and the Plym, come to 
being in the southern division, at no great 
distance from each other, and amid surroundings 
not unlike those of Cranmcre Pool ; and all of them 
flow into the Channel on the western side of Bolt 
Head. Neither of them is without charms of its 
own ; but the Plyji is easily chief among them, and 
with a rapid sketch of its course from Plym Head, 
some three miles south of Princetown, to the Somid, 
the present chapter must end. Flowing by rugged, 
flat-topped Sheepstor on the right, and Trowlesworthy 





[Thi Pltm. 

Tor ou tlie loft, Plym presently reaches Cadaford lirid^e, where it plunges into a 
rockv ravine, the precipitous hillside on the left crowned by the church of Shaugh 
Prior, while from the hill on the right, smothered with oak coppice, projects a huge 
crag of i\-y-clad granite, the Dewerstone, celebi'ated for its views. At Shaugh Ih-idgo 




the .stream is swollen by the .Mcavy, 

which, not far from its source on the 

mofjrland, is tapped to supply Plymouth 

Leat — a work for which the I'lymouth 

folk are indebted to Sir Francis Drake. 

Afterwards the Meavy runs by the grey 

granite church of Shecpstor, where, under 

the .shadow of a noble beech, is the massive 

tomb of Sir James Brooke, of Sarawak 

fame. Hichly-wooded Hickleifjh Vale is 

one of the beauty spots of the Plym : another lovely scene is tliat at I'lyin Ibidge, 

where, dose to the mossy bridge, is the ruined arch of a tiny chantiy, built by 

the numks of Plvni])ton Priory that travellers niiirlit licic pray to iiciivcn for 

])rotection before adventuring info tlie wilds beyond. < M the I'lioiy. rounded in 

the twelfth century to re])lace a Saxon college of secular canons, nothing remains 

but the refectory and a kitchen and a moss-grown orchard, which nuiy be seen 

close to the lichened church of I'lymjjton St. .Mary, if we care to wander a little\vards from the river. Xot far off is the other I'lympton, with its scanty 


fragments of a castle of the dc Redvers, Earls of Devon. j\Iore memorable is 
Plymptou Earl from its association with Sir Joshua Reynolds, who was born here, 
and sat at his father's feet in the quaint cloistered Grammar School, where, too, 
three otlier painters of note wei"e educated — Sir Joshua's jjupil and biographer, 
Xortheote, tlie luckless Haydon, and tlie fortune-favoured Eastlako. Reynolds was 
not without honour in his own country, at any rate during- his life. Tlie Corpora- 
tion of Plympton once chose him mayor, and he declared to George III. that 
the election was an honour which gave him more pleasure than any other which 
had ever come to him — "except," he added as an afterthought, "that conferred 
on mc 1)}' your ^Majesty." A jjortrait of himself, which lie painted for his native 
town, was long treasm'ed in the ancient Guildhall, but the virtue of the Cor- 
poration Avas not jjermanently proof against temptation, and at last the picture was 
sold, for £150. This happened a good many years ago. 

Below Plym Bridge the river begins to expand into the estuary, known in 
the upper part as the Laira and in the lower as the Catwater, the division 
between the two sections being marked b}' the Laira Bridge, five hundred feet 
long. Of "Laira" various derivations have been suggested, the most ingenious, and 
perhaps, therefore, tlie least likely, being that since "leaiy" in the vernacular means 
"em]3ty," the name may be taken as pointing to the large expanses of mud and sedge 
left bare by the tide— larger in the days before the stream was embanked than 
they are now. Saltram, a seat of the Earls of Morley, the first of whom both 
built the bridge and constructed the embankment, is on the left shore, embosomed 
in woods. Below the bridge the estuary curves round northwards, alad, sweeping 
by Sutton Pool, its waters lose themselves in one of the noblest havens in the 
world, studded Avith craft of all slmpes and sizes, from the grim battleship and the 
swift liner to the rudd3'-sailed trawler. 

To get a coujj tVosil of Plymouth and its surroundings, let us take our stand 
on the limestone headland known as The Hoe, where, according to the tradition 
which Kingsley has followed, Drake was playing bowls with his brother sea-dogs 
when the Armada was descried, and refused to stop until the game was ended. In 
these days it is surmounted by a statue of the hero, by the Armada Memorial, and by 
Smeaton's lighthouse, removed from the Eddystone from no defect of its own, but 
because the rock on which it was based was l)ocoming insecure. On tlie east 
The Hoe terminates in the Citadel, an ancient fortification which has been adapted 
to modern conditions ; on the low ground behind crouches Plymouth, effectually 
screened from the sea-winds ; on the west, beyond the Great Western Docks, lies 
Stonehouse, and west of this again is Devonport, its dockyards lining the Hamoaze, 
as the estuary of the Tamar is called. Seawards, restraining the rush of the 
Ijroad waves of the Sound, is the Breakwater, a lighthouse at one end, a beacon 
of wliite granite at the other, and in the middle, as it seems at this distance, but 
really on an island just within it, a mighty oval fort of granite cased in iron. 
About half-way to the Breakwater is Drake's Island, another link in a chain of 


[The Pltm. 

defences wliirii lias, oiio may 1h)J)o. rciuU'ix'd thv Tlirro Towns invuliun-alili" to 
assault eitluT from sea or from laud; and over auaiust this, bordering- the Sound 
on the west, are the woods and < slopes of Mount Kdcrunibe, the noble 
•lomain whii-h the Spanisli Admiral. ^I'edina Sidonia. is said to have designed for 

!■! YMl'TOX F.AHl, {p. 51). 

llim^^•lf. Away in the diui distance the new Mddxstone rears its lol'tv head. How 
the of the four lighthouses wliieh liave warned mariners ot tliis dangc-rous reef 
was washeil away, and the secnnd fell a ])re\- t<> tlie flames, ever\' sclidolbov knows. 
I'"amiliar. too, is the stor\' of tlie third: \v\ as we turn to look at it, nuw tliat it 
is n-tired from active .serviee, we mav Ije pardoned for recalling Ikiw. ir<ini this 
very spot, Smeaton wa.s wont to watch the ])rogress of the work wliicli was to be 
his title to entluring- fame. " A^i^ain and again,"' says Dr. Smiles, ''the engineer, 
in the dim grey of the moiiiing-, would come out and peer through his telescope 
at his (h-ep-sea lani])-])ost. Sometimes he had to wait long until he could see a 
tall white jjillar of .spray shoot up into the air. Tlien, as tlie light grew, he 
(;ouhl discern his building-, temporary and all, standing hrm amidst the 
waters; and thii.s far satisfied, he could proceed to his workshops, his mind relieved 
for the da\." 

The Plym.] 



Plymouth, beginning as Sutton Prior, an ajipanagc of the Augustinian Monas- 
tery at Plynipton, tlio original harbour being what is now known as Sutton Pool, 
has a history extending at least as far back as the Domesday Survey. Stonehouse 
is a comparatively modern extension; and Devonport, though its dockyards date 
from the days of ^^illiam III., was long in growing into the consequence Avhi<;h now 

II ;/ ih 1 1 J I 


it possesses. Those who know their Boswell well will remember tliat Johnson, 
coming into Devonshire Avitli Sir Joshua, visited Plymouth at a time when great 
jealousy was being felt of the pretensions of Devonport, then just beginning to assert 
itself. Half in jest and half in earnest he vigorously espoused the prejudices of the 
older town; and when, in time of drought, Devonport applied to Plymouth for water, 
he burst out, " Xo, no. I am against the dockers; I am a Plymouth man. Rogues! 
let them die of thirst ! They shall not have a drop I " Since tlien Devonport has 
gone to Dartmoor for a water supply of its own ; and Plymouth, while not 
ol)livious of its glorious memories, is well content to take a maternal ])ride in the 
prosperity of the younger towns. W. W. Hutciuxgs. 




Tho Sliiior .Streams of Cornwall — The- Tamau : WooUuy Barrows — Jlorwellham aud Weir Iloail — Mnrwell Eoiks — 
Harewood — Calstock — Cotchcle — Pentillie — Confluence with the Tavy — Saltish — Tlic Hamoaze. The Fowey : A 
Change of Xaine— St. Neot — Lostwithiel — Fowey. The Fal : Fentou Fal — Tregony — Tniro— Tregothnan — Falmouth. 

wood .11. M VilK 

I Vi.l( 

< )Mi'.\.RATIVELY insignificant tliouuli tliev may bo, the rivers 
of ("ornwall liavc peculiar interest alike for the geoiiraplier 
and tlie, and are rife with the charms of natui'al 
seenery which attract every lover of the heautiful. If we 
except the Camel, which is the only river worth}- of mention 
that flows into the Bristol Channel, the county has a .soutliern 
drainage, this ari.sing from ihc fa<t that the watcr.-^licd of 
Cornwall is almost confined to the couulry contiguous to tht! 
north (Mjust. Perhaps it is l)y way ol' compensation to the 
Camel, or .Man, that it lias two sources. Hy l.anteglos 
and .Vdveiit its course runs through a romantic cnuntry of 
it meets tiu' tidi' at Kiiloshavlc, tlii'ncc i)assint 


eij^lit miles Ijelow which it falls into I'ad.stow llarliour. 


Of the streams possessing something of historic interest and scenic charm 
the Looe must be mentioned because of the lovely vale through which it flows 
between Duloe and IMorval and the as,sociati(Mi of tlic river with the ancient 
Parliamentary boroughs of East and West Looe at its mouth. The Seaton, the 
St. Austell river, the Hayle, the Gannel, and the Hel, each and all have their 
individuality, owing allegiance to no other river tyrannous of its tributaries; l)ut 
the three principal streams of the county, the Tamar, the Fowey, and the Fal, 
which liave been selected for special notice here, have a virtual monopoly of 
interest and attention. The Tamar possesses, in a singvdar degree, the more 
striking characteristics of the Cornish rivers, and is fairly entitled to the distinction 
of first consideration at our hands. Having its rise at Woolley Barrows, in the 
extreme east of the westernmost county, a short distance from its source Tamar 
becomes the boundary between the counties of Devon and Cornwall, and so con- 
tiiuics during nearly the whole of its course, some forty miles. Flowing distinctly 
southward, the river leads a quiet life for at least a league, till, gaining in size 
and importance, it gives its name to the pretty village and parish of North 
Tamerton. Thenceforth 

■ " Its tranquil stream 

Through rich and peopled meadows finds its way." 

At St. Stephen's-by-Launceston it receives the Werrington stream, and expands 
into a beautifid lake in Werrington Park. Below the lake the impetuous Attery 
stream joins the now brimming river, wliicli. passing under Poulston and Greston. 
reaches Tavistock New Bridge, where we are on the "scientific frontier" of 
Devon and Cornwall. At this point, too, the Tamar enters upon a new stage of 
its existence, leaving its lowly moorland birtli and quiet ordinary youth behind it, 
and beginning a career which is henceforth the cynosure of all eyes. flurrying 
by Gunnislake, the busy little luunlet of workers in clay and stone, at Weir 
Plead the river literally leaps into fame. 

From the coaching hamlet it has slided on through a woodland glade of 
bewitching beauty, which wins a spontaneous outburst of admiration from the visitor 
who, haply, has chosen to approach the favoured scene by the serpentining sylvan 
walk from Morwellham to Weir Head. Here its waters break in a pretty cascade 
over the artificial ridge of rocks that reaches from bank to bank. Then they 
prettily describe a circle about the islet in mid-stream, gaining new life and 
movement from tlie impetus. With the briskness of a waterslide the Tamar 
rushes on to Morwellham. A charming variety of river-glimpses may be gained 
through the luxuriant foliage at Weir Head, the view^s hereabouts having become 
the objective of the highly popular steamer-trips from Pl^nnouth, Devonjjort, 
and Saltash, which have constituted " Ui^ the Tanuir " quite a colloquialism 
in tlie West. 

The winding river gains a new glory from its beautiful and impressive 
surroundings as it flows at the base of Morwell Rocks, those wonderful examples 




of Xaturc's carvinir-^. set in tlu' midst i)t' luxuriant foliimc tliat licrc liides their 
sbaiTiTV sides and there tlu'ows into bold relief an awe-ins])irinu- ])ile. The Kocks 
are unique in their romantic beauty, even thoug'h they iiiiure among the many 
objects of interest in a highly picturesque neighbourhood. The Chimney Kock 
and the Turret Rock ;u'e happier instances of descriptive nomenclature than usual. 
Holder still is that most striking specimen of natural architecture, Morwell Kock, 
the mas^iveness of which doubtless gained for it the capital distinction. To the 

giddy height of the top- 
ninst rock, aljove the far- 
stretching Avoodland <if 
^lorwellham, scarce a sound 
of the rippling river comes ; 
but the silver thread of its 
serpentine course may be 
traced afar through the 
ronuwtic valley, winding 
about ( )kcl Tor and the 
great bend that forms the 
]ieninsula between Mor- 
wcllhani and Calstock, and 
tlu'u taking its favoured 
wav through cherry 
orchard-groves on to the 
haven under the hill. 

The river is navigable to Weir Head, 
but Morwellham is the highest ])oint reached 
l)y the steamers. Pursuing the line of least 
resistance, the Tamar now makes a tre- 
mendous sweej) about the hill on which Calstock Church stands. Ibit ore the 
iirst view of the "two-faced church"' is caught, an inteivsting riparian residence 
is skirted — Ilarewood, the scene of j\Iason's play of Elfrida., now the ollice of the 
l>ucliy of Cornwall, but formeily one of the Trelawny properties. Calstock, if 
it please you, is the centre of the old "cherry picking"' district, thougli to-day 
its stniwberry gardens must rival the orchards in their renmnerative return to the 
industrious po])ulation of the quaint little town that seems to have grown away 
from the water's edge to the ])lea.sant Cci'iiish countrv bcxond Tamar bank. Still, 
if von Avould see Calstock in its daintiest gai'b and most dcliiilitl'id beaut \-, come 
you when the ])retty cheri'\- blossom decks the groves li\- the river, and the tender 
])ink an<l white <-lotlu'S the orchard lawns to the uplands. 

From Calstock on to Cotehele, and thence almost to the junction of the Tanuir 
and the Tavy, the .same delightful eccentricity of the river-scenery jucsents itself — 
every jtrominent feature re-appearing in an enlirelv dilbrent aspect, scarce five 


luinute.s of the rivcr-tri]) passiiiu- witliout a variation of tlie j)oint of view. A last 
ulimpse of Calstoek C"liurc-li, and we are eiicompassed by woodland. Everywlu'rc a 
luxuriant living green meets the eye. Apparently, the swelling woods and orchard 
lawns approach ahead and form a cul-dc-sac ; but the Tamar makes a sharp detour to 
the right or to the left, and another glory of the leafy way bursts upon the sight. 
Again and again the pleasing experience is repeated ere a lunnan habitation relieves 
a monotony that for once is wholly charming. 

Bevond the limekilns of Cotehelc appears tlie lodge gate of Cotchele House, 
one of the residences of the Edgcumbe family, and a place of sonic historic 
interest. By far the most promin nt feature in the fine landsca2)e which may be 
viewed from a tower at the highest point of the grounds is Kit Hill, the loftiest 
eminence on Hingston Down, which was the scene of a last desperate battle between 
tlie Britons of Cornwall and the invading Saxons in the year ^'-^r,. A beautiful 
valley near Cotehelc, known as Danescombe to this dav, is said to have taken its 
name from the allies wliom the Cornish called to tlieir aid in this sanguinary 

Immediately Ijelow Cotehelc the zig-zag course of the Tamar is most strongly 
marked, and nowhere are its revelation'" of new views and fresh charms more 
entrancing than where it winds about the extensive grounds of Pentillie. Shortly 
after we have doffed our caps in deference to the pious Sir Richard Edgcumbe, 
devout worshipper of the Holy Mother, who erected a churcli l)y tlie river-bank to 
commemorate his miraculous escape from the soldiers of the royal Ivichard, we catch 
a tleeting but impressive glimpse of another stately residence of a county family, 
on a hilly eminence clothed to its crown with thickly grown woods, the castellated 
mansion emerging from dense leafy environs M'ell towards the crest. All suddenly 
the coquetting sti-eam swerves to the Devonshire side, as speedily returns to caress 
the fair meads of Cornwall, and another glorious prospect is disclosed. A nearer 
view is now to be had of Pentillie Castle, lying embowered in the far-stretching 
woodland, the Gothic features of the lordly pleasure-house which the late owner, 
Mr. John Tillie Coryton, built for himself admiraldy harmonising with its beautiful 

Below Pentillie, the Tamar, in its ampler waters and wider course, has to be 
satisficil with less interesting associations. A last big bend in the river, and, past 
the pretty hamh't of Cargreen, we shortly find ourselves abreast of tlu> church 
<jf St. Dilpe, at Landuljih, erected veiy near the river- bank, on the Cornish side. 
'I'lie tower of St. Ihideaiix ( 'liiirch, wlmse melodious Ix'lls cliime cheeriU' across 
tlie water, rises high al)ove the Devon bank. llei'e the 'i'avy makes common with the Tamar, and the twin rivers How on by Salta.sli into the llamoaze. 
Xearlv the numth of the Tavy, on the Cornish side, is the ecclesiastical 
])arish of St. Stephen-by-Salt'isli, with the ruins of Ti'cmatcm Castle at the summit 
of a \vell-woo(li'(l hill. The castle is believed to have been built at the period of 
the Conquest, and was subsequently held \)y the Earls of I'ornwall. 

The Tamar.] 



At Saltash — as the Western men -will not forget to remind the boasting Cockney 
— the Tamar is wider than the Thames at Westminster. Sahash itself, by the wav, 
was originally (according to C'arew) Mlla de Esse, after a family of that name, and 
to this was added " Salt," on account of its " marine situation." The busy little 
waterside town has this great dignity — that its ]Mayor and Corporation take 

MORWELL ROCKS (^«. 55), 

jDreeedence of those of Plyniouth and Devonport. .Saltash has gradually, through 
many generations, built itself up a steep, rocky acclivity until the habitations extend 
to the summit of the hill at Longstone, from which favoured eminence the prospect 
is ven^ fine. Here may Ave see the broadened river where the ebbing tide swu-ls 
l)y the 3Iount Edgciinibe training-ship, that is swinging round on its tidal pivot just 
above Brunei's great bridge ; thence, flowing beneath the wondrous iron link of the 
two westernmost counties with which the engineer spanned the river, here half a mile 
across, the Tamar, now joined by the Lynher from the West, loses its identity in 
the all-embracing Hamoaze, with its wood-fringed shores ; the river passing un- 
remarked into Plj-mouth Harbour, from the Harbour to the Sound, and from the 
Sound to the Channel — forgotten noAv in the great afPairs of navies, and the thrilling- 
stories of the seas on which Drake and Hawkins, Kaleigh and Grenville, sailed to 



[The Fowev. 

fight the Sjianiai'd. From liauiits of peace, tlie Taiiiar, itself a jjleasant stream, has 
flowed through scenes of rare beauty to tli(\se so warlike surroundings, where its 
cuiTent eddies about the decaying hulks on whose decks the old sea-dogs died, 
where its waters wash arsenal, dock, and victualling yard, and where it oft bears 
on its broad l)osom a mighty fleet of men-of-war. 

At the foot of Brown Willy, Cornwall's highest hill, in the parish of St. 
Jh-eward. there is an aqueous locality in which the water-finder might exercise his 

\it'iRi-i;x fji. .'>s}. 

art of diviiiatiiiii with tlic utmost coniidence, if, indeed, he did not find liis occu])a- 
tion gone by i-eason of the abundance of the surface water. This is Foy-i'\Miton, 
and here the Fowkv rises. As, to this day, Fowey becomes "Foy" in the naming 
of tlu; boats that boast the prettiest luii'boiii- in the count \- for their port, 
one may easily discover a associatinn in tlio ndnicnclaturc of the sites and 
scenes at the l>eginning an<l the end of this very clKir.ning stream. In its course^, 
curiously enough, the river changes its name. W Ik re it llnws soutliwai-d through 
the moorlands between St. Neot and St. ('leer, it is called the Dranes (or Dreynes) 
river: an<l fishermen from the "model borough" of Liskeard, who love to flog 
ivs j)leasaiit waters I'or the tnuthsome li-mit thai tliey liai-jjour, would be prepared to 

The Fowey.] 



contend, in the face of the maps and in the presence of geographers, tliat it is the 
Dranes river, and no other. In flood-time a strong stream that gives the road- 
surveyor endless troubh:', tlic Fowey, leai)ing along its bouldered way, here and there 
lightening its journey by falling in picturesque cascades, scattering its showers of 
iridescent spray over the thick foliage that everywhere clothes its banks, runs almost 
level with the main road to St. Neot — a village noted for its window-pictured legend 
of St. Neot and tlie miraculous supph" of tish, in the parish church — where it receives 
a goodl}- stream of that name. Increasing the beauty and interest of its course with 


every mile it travels, the river hy-and-by glides into the far-stretching woodland of 
Glynn, the seat of Lord Vivian, and then becomes one of the principal contributors 
to the scenic charms of the railway-side from Devonport to Par, which Mi*s Braddon 
describes as the most delightful of all journeys by rail. 

After leaving its moorland haunts, and in order to reach Glynn, the Fowey 
took a westerly turn, but, Bodmin once skirted, the river runs directly southward 
again, under Kesprin Bridge and past Lanhydrock House, the Cornish home of that 
Lord llobartes who was the leader of the Parliamentarian forces in these 2:)arts. The 
ancient mansion, of the Tudor pei'iod, passed through many crises, and, togetlier with 
modern additions, was practically destroyed by fire in 1881, and rebuilt in 1888-4. 
The next object of interest seen from the river is the ruin of Restormel Castle, 

62 HITERS OF OnF.AT hi! IT AFX. [The Fowev. 

on the summit of a bold headland a mile from Lostwitliiol. The l)uildino: of the 
castle is a><fribed to the Cardenhams, Avho flourished hereabouts in tlie roian of tlio 
first Kdward : and it was once the residence of the Earls of Cornwall. 

At Lostwithiel — the Uzella of Ptolemy — the Fowcv is crossed bv an ancient 
and naiTow bridge of eight pointed arches, erected in the fourteenth centmy. The 
bridge is very strongly buttressed, and over each buttress is an angular niche. 
A silver oar, which is among the insignia of the Corporation, bears the inscription : 
'' Custodia (tqiitr dc FoiceyP The celebrated Colonel Silas Titus, author of '' Killing- 
noe Murder," Member of Parliament for the borough 16G-'5 79, was the donor of 
the oar. Lostwithiel, where the i-iver meets the tide, at once Ijccoming navigable 
for small vessels, boasts great antiquity, and in 1064 was the headquarters of the 
Parliamentai'ian forces in Cornwall. 

Here, below Lostwithiel's ancient Ijridge, let us take boat and taste of the 
ineffable eujojTiieut Avhich laureates of the Fowey have attributed to a sail or a 
row down the romantic stream to the mouth of the hai-bour, Avhere the sailors sing 
their chanties as they work the merchantmen out between the old towers wlience 
chains were sti'etched across the harbour in the stirring days when the .Spaniard sailed 
the main. Sing hey, sing ho, for indeed life is worth living when the soft ze2)hyrs 
blow, and we glide by the prettily placed church of St. Winnow, and catch the 
mu.sical chiming of its melodious peal of bells. " Youtli on the prow, and Pleasure 
at the helm," our delight knows no surcease, but rather grows as, something 
less than three miles below tlie old Parliamentary boi'ough, the banks open 
out, and we behold that daydream of scenic beauty, the sunlit reaches of the river 
winding away toward the sea. One branch of this estuary, by-the-by, flows to 
St. Veep, wliifh has an interesting church. The Lcrrin and St. Cadoc creeks 
yet fm'thcr eni-ich a river Avhich Nature has endowed with charms so abundant. 
Bodinnoc Ferry is a name to conjure with in yachting circles, since there is not 
one log among tlic niunv of the pleasure-boats tlint nudce for the ''little Dart- 
mouth" of the Far West in the lieight of sununei' l)ut contains some tine compli- 
ment to the rare beautv <>f tlie view, landward and seaward, from this familiar 
tacking point. No wonder that Fowey Harbour shares with its Devonshire rival the 
generous tribute of sportsmen, who have lavished upon each of these picturesque 
ports effusive jn'aise that has its point in the proud title of tlu> " Yachtsnuni's Para- 
dise." Long ere these pleasure-seeking days was the discovery of Fowey's possession 
of a safe and connnodious harljour made : " The shippes of Fowey sayling by 
Rhie and Winchelsey, alioiit I'.dward tlic 111"' tvme, would vayle no l)onnct l)eying 
re«piire<l, whereupon Ivhie and Winclielsev men and they fought, when Fowie men 
had victorie, and thereupon liarc their arms mixt with the arms of Khic and 
Winchelsey, and then rose the name of tlic (iallants of Fowey." Hut Leland 
knew that they deserved the title long years before, as "the glorie of Fowey rose 
by the wanes in King Edward I. and III. and Henry V.'s day, partly by feats of 
warre, partly by jjiracie, and so waxing ricli fell all to merchandize." 


Fowey took so naturally and keenly to the practice of jjiracy that the 
"gallants" had a little affair at sea with the French on their own account and 
against the King s treaty and commandment, in the reign of the fourth Edward, 
who appears not to have been well pleased, since he took the head of one of their 
number, imprisoned the captains, and sent men of Dartmouth do\^'n to seize their 
ships and remove tlie chain then drawn across the mouth of the haven. But 
the "gallants" Avero nothing daunted, and in the time of Charles II. their successors 
beat off eighty Dutch ships of war that, greatly daring, had chased a fleet of 
merchantmen into Fowey Harbour. St. Finbarrus, first Bishop of Cork, is said to 
have been buried in the church, which is dedicated to him, and is a handsome 
structure. Place House, tlie seat of the Treffr}- family, besides being a nolile mansion, 
glorio-usly dight with very fine sj)ecimens of Cornish granite and porphyry, is of great 
historic interest. It was Elizabeth, wife of Thomas Treffry — an ancient statue of 
whom stands in the grounds — who, in the absence of lier luisband, headed his men 
and beat off the French in an assault on Place House in July, 1457. 

Along its course of but twenty miles, four of which are tidal, the Fal divides 
tlie county into two nearly equal parts. Fenton Fal, in Tregoss Moor, is tlie 
birthplace of the stream ; and from the moorland it receives the trilnitarv Avators 
of many peaty rivulets before gaining entrance to the i-omantic A-ale of Treviscoe, 
which gives us a foretaste of that feast of the beautiful which the Fal affords in 
its lower reaches. Compared with what goes before and follows after, the course 
of the stream by Grampound (the Voluba of Ptolem}'), through Creed valle}', where 
it leaves Tregony on its left bank, and on to Kuan, is somewhat lacking in 
interest, and the river itself is of no great strength. Ere tin-streaming and the 
sandbanks had done their mischief, you might have reached Tregonv on the toji of 
the tide ; nowadays the ebb and flow affect the river no farther than Ruan. Yet 
this has sufficed to gain for the Fal a glorious name. Perhaps the finest compliment 
ever paid to the river fell from royal lips. When the Queen, accompanied by the 
Prince Consort, made the trip down the Fal from Truro in 1846, she was visibly 
impressed with the beauty and splendour of the scenery, and particularly charmed 
with the view about Tregothnan. Her Majesty was reminded by it of the Rhine, 
but thought it almost finer where Avinding between woods of stunted oaks, and full 
of numberless creeks. 

At Truro, the two little rivers, Kenwyn and Allen, flow through the citv into 
a creek of the Fal, known as Truro river ; tlie first-named separates 8t. Mary's from 
St. Paul's, Avliile the second divides the parish of St. Mary from that of St. John. 
The little Kenwyn is "personally conducted" through the streets of the cathedral 
town by the Corporation, in open conduits, and forms a not unpleasant feature of 
the tiny city in We-stern Barbary whose inhabitants were once said to have a good 
conceit of themselves: " The people of this town dress and live so elegantly that 
the pride of Triu-o is become a by-word in the county." The most modern of our 



[The Fal. 

EiiLrlish catliodrnls is a inomuncut to the pious zeal, marvellous industry, ar.d 
uu(ju(?nchable eiitliusiasui of l)r. Blmisoh, the iirst Bishop of Truro, afterwards 
An-hbisho]) of Canterbury. Tlie Prince of Wales laid the foundation stone in 

1880, and its consecration took ])lace 
seven years later. The style is Early 
Euii'lish of tlu- thirteenth ecnlury, and 
at present the cathedral but ])artially 
realises the ambitious desio-n of the 

arcliitcct, who phiiiiu'd a vi'i'v imposiny- ediiice. which, in the event of its ultimate 
completion, nnist inevitalily cliallen-v mmparison with tlie most notable of modern 
achievements in llie (lothic Already it jmisscsscs s(>vei'al splendid windows and 
man\- beautiful .specinu-ns of modern s(idi)turc. 

Tiic |)rettiest parts of our river lie lictween Kin^- Harry's Tassaiic and K'osdand. 
Below TrCf^otlman, wliore the l"al unites with the Truro river and St. Clenu'nt's 
creek, both .shores are beautifully clotlied witli w I. and the line of 

The Fal.] 



water at high tide lends a nobility and magnificence to the scene which affords 
ample occasion for the high-flown descriptions and lavish praise bestowed upon the 
Fal. On the right are tlu^ gromuls of Trelissick ; and a picturesque glimpse 
of the stream may be caught near the estuary called Malpas Road, by the ferry 
at Tolverne. After dividing Mylor from St. Just, the river loses its identity 
in forming C'arrick Road, and sliortly expands into the splendid haven of 
Falmouth Harbour. The inner part, between Trefusis Point, Pendcnnis, and 
the town, is called King's Road. Carrick Road, where the river enters, forms 

Photo : Frith £ Co., ReigiUe. 


the middle of the harbour, and midway between tlie entrance — which is from 
Pendennis Point to St. Anthony's Head — there lies the ominously-named Black 
Rock, around which the 3Iayor of Truro sailed in June, 1709, when he sought 
to exercise jurisdiction over the port and harbour of Falmouth. But the citizens 
of the port themselves had had a powerful friend at Court, in the person of 
King Charles II., who had given FaluKJuth a charter overi'iding the ancient 
claims of Truro, Ijy which the Mayor of the latter town had levied dues on all 
goods laden or unladen in any part of the Fal, from Truro to the Black Rock; 
and a trial at law in tlie same year finally established home rule in Falmouth 

Though to-day its j^^'ospei'ity is scarcely commensurate with its natural 
advantages, the harbour still remains almost unrivalled. First port of call for 
bomeward-bound vessels, with a depth of w-ater and safe anchorage that uuiuy 




TThe Fal. 

another harbour miirht eiivv. and sheltered from all tlie winds that hlow pave 
those from the south-south-east, it is so (•a2)a(ioiis that the wliole British tleet 
could ride at anchor in its Avaters. Falmouth as a town owes its existence 
to these striking features of its hai-bour. Beholdintr them, it struck the 
shrewd sons of the House of Killijirew, Lords of Arwenack (there is an 
Arwenack 8ti-eet to this day), who flourished in the time of James I., that there 
was no eai'thlv reason wliv vessels should go seven miles to Truro, or two miles 
to Penrvn, for a port when au infinitely better one might b(> created at tlie 
very mouth of the harbour. Vested interests, as represented by the ((inuiuuiities 
of Tiuro, Penrvn, and Helston, offered stout opposition. But the silver-tongued 
Lords of Arwenack prevailed in the argument befoie King James, and it was 
not long ere Falmouth was the first port in Cornwall. Its great era of 
ju'osjieritv exemplifies the adage that it's an ill wind that blows nobody good, 
for, during our Avars with the French, Falmouth Ijecame a mail packet .station, 
and flourished exceedingly on " Government service."' 

It was the boast of proud Fahnouthians that a hundred vessels could 
ride in the creeks of Falmouth Harbour and vet tluit no two should lie in 
.sight of each other. How this miglit l)c mav be understood in part when it is 
explained that, besides many smallei arms, there are five ])riiicipal creeks. Of branches not the least is that wliich was piolniblx' the eailii'sf used, to Peniyn ; 
there is a .second to I\e.str<mguet and IVrranarworthal : a tliinl, also of ancient 
use, to Truro and Tre.sillian Bridge; a fourth running uj) to St. ^Fawes and 
Gerraiis : and tlic tiftli and greatest, to Knig Harry's Beacli, toward Tregony 
Avliich is the main stream of our Fal. Hrcni W. Stkong. 

riujtu: IrUJi i Oj., lU.i'/xu. 


THE ISLE or ATHELXLY {p. 68). 


The Pahret: Its Source— JIufhcIney Abbey— The Tone and Taunton — Athclney Island and ^Vlfred the Great— Sedge- 
moor — Bridgwater — Burnham. The Lowek Avon: Escourt Park — Malmesbury — Chippenham — Jlelksham— Bradford- 
on-Avon— Bath — The Frome— Beau Nash— Bridges at Bath— The Abbey Church — Bristol— St. Mary Eedcliffe and 
Chatterton — The Cathedral — " The Chasm " — Clifton Suspension Bridge — The Lower Reaches — Avonmouth. 

>'^p^-'-~,ii F the even, placid course of tlie Parret one sententious writer 
iias said, " There is notliin<i' remarkable in it, the country 
' |~7^'^»''^~^ ^-"^"^•" rifit-" A spark of inuigination and the merest glim- 
^^- .4~9^-^\i^ nicring of historic interest would have spared us this dull 

commonplace. Surely the stream ^A'hich saw the dawn of 
intellect in England, which witnessed the very heg'inniiig-s of 
our modern civilisation, which Avatercd the self-same mead 
Avhere walked the first royal patron of learning that tlie 
country boasted, is notable, even if it does not attain to 
higher rank among our English rivers. 
The Parret — Pedred of the Saxon Chronicle — is not of native Somerset birth, 
since it has its uprising a mile over the southern boundary, at Cheddington Copse, 
in the Dorsetshire parish of South Perrott. Flowing in a south-easterly dircctif)n, 
by Crewkerne and the Dorsetshire border, its basin occupies that portion of the 
Bridgwater Level lying between the Mendips and the Quantock Hills. At Crew- 
kerne we have wide glimpses of its broad green valley, the busy little market 
town itself rising in the midst of the natural amjihitheatre formed by the distant, 
unpretentious hills, lying low, like shadows on the horizon. The fine cruciform 



[TiiK Parret 

church of St. Bartholomew, whose only real rival among Somersetshire churches 
is that at Ilminster, in precisely the same style of arcliitccture. occupies a 
pleasant situation westwanl of the river. 

The ruins of ^luchelney Abbey rise above the marsln- Ijanks of the river in 
tlic luinilet bearinff the same name, which the ancient chronicler would have us 
accept as a facile corrujition of " ]\rn(kle Kye." or Great Island. ( )t Atlielstan's 
Abbey there arc but scant remains. flioui:li these are most suggestive of a structure 

of imposing size and great archi- 
tectural interest and beauty. \W 
the interesting little town of 
Langport the dividing hills arc 
Iiroken, and the I'arret receives 
the waters of the Isle from the 
left, and of the Yeo (so com- 
mon a river name, with its olivious 
derivation), or Ivel, In mi tlic 
Swollen bv these tributaries, the 
l*arret"s lazv waters nuw creo]) on under a 
liridge wiiii-h unites tlie lianks that niarkt'd 
the limits of the dominions of the Belgic 
and Danmonian tribes. 

Hereabouts we do indeed apjiear to Ix' 
at the very beginnings of Knglisli histi>rv, 
for but a little below the confluence, at 
Aller, the Danish kin<i-, (nithi-uiu, is said to have received tlie rite of ba])tisni in 
the liver, his conquenu-, Alfri-d the Great, nuignanimouslv standing sponsor to the 
fallen foe; whilst eight centuries later a fiercer warrior, tilled with zeal for what lie 
conceived to be his ri<rhteous cause — Fairfax, to wit — routed tlie liovalist forces. 
giving no quarter, as he had asked none. Before we take up the other thread i>f 
the ]«-ical tale, there is the Tone to l)e reckoned witli. Horn in a l)og nn the 
Brendon Hills, this most important of the affluents of the I'arret is seen at its 
g^reatest in the ]»icture.sque vale of 'J'aunton Dean. Im])arting its name t<> the 
hand.some town of Taunton, it pa.sses at least one splendid specimen of eeclesiastiial 
architecture in St. Mary's Church, which reais its lofty tower in the midst of a 
delightful neighbourhood, of which Taunton is the attractive capital. 

Below the hill-top village of Boroughbridge the Tone joins forces witb tlie 
I'arret, and in the .slack water at their confluence ri.sts that little j)lot of 
^.Tound made for ever sacred in English eyes by reason of its Ixing the icinole 
retreat of Alfred the fireat when he sought to escape the slings and arrows of 
outrageous Fortinie. Hurrying thither from his fierce enemies, th(> Danes -and, if 
the fabh' is in the to be tru.sted, from the e(|ua]l\-to-lie-reai-ed anucr of tlu^ 
neatherd's wife he found a peaceful haven, wlieic lie iniglit lieal liiiii of his 


The Parret.] 



wounds, recruit liis resoiirces, and lay his plans for the meditated rally. And so, 
b}' bold foraj's from this natural stronghold, lie regained the confidence of his 
adherents, won over tlu^ waverers, and paved the way for liis eventual triumph 
over the pagan foe and tlie complete recovery of his power. 

%^^ ^I^ 


To the honour of St. Saviour and St. Peter, his patron saints, the pious hero 
of Athelney raised a monastery on the island, where, in their holy orisons, the 
monks chanted the praises of the God who had so confused the heathen b}' the 
shores of the river that stayed its course and stagnated where the reeds and rushes 
caught the water-sprite, heavy with sleep, in their toils. Barely two acres in 
William of j\Ialmesbury's day, vet covered by " a forest of alders of vast extent " (!), 
the historic sjjot is now known as Athelney Farm, a stone pillar telling its great 



[The Pahuet. 

storv in tliis concise iiiscriptitui : "King Allrcd \]\v (.Jrcat, in tlic vi'ar ni' our Lord 
S70, having been defeated by the Danes, Hed for refuge to the Forest of Athehiey, 
where he hiv concealed from his enemies for the sjjuce of a whole year. lie soon 
after regained possession of his throne; and, in grateful reuienibrance ot llic pro- 
tection he had received untler tlu- favour of Heaven, lie erected a UHinastcry on the 
spot, and endowed it with all the lands contained in the Isle of Allicliuy. To 

I'holo: irutium Hanks, MaimciOurj/. 

MALMESUUKV A11HKY ( p. 72 ). 

perpetuate the memorv of so reniarkalilc an incident in llic history of the 
illustrious jirince, this edili<-e was founded hy .Iulm Shule. Ks(|., of Maunsell, the 
proprietor of Athelnev, and lord of the numor of North I'ethertnn, ad. iSdl." 

Historv in its heroic elements still clings to I'arret's l)anks. f(ir, as the river 
flows on near Weston-Zn\ land, washing tlie parish on tlie soiitli and south-west, 
Sedgenu)or, the Duke of Monnioufirs fatal field, eonu's into view, and nuv looks 
upon the scene of what in ^facaulay's words was "the last light deserving the 
nauK- of a battle that has been fought on T^nglish ground." Knierging from tlu> 
marsh of Sedgemoor, the I'arret now takes u])on itself the new oflice of patron and 
benefactor of po]m1ous, busy Uridgwater, two miles to the south-west of " Sowy- 
land.'' It is the river which at ebb and Hood tide dei)osits that peculiar sediment 
of clav and sand that goes to make "the Hath brick," of which product Bridgwater 
has the monojioly. Hut why "Hath"':' Well, prouiiiably, liecause the best market 
for tlie bri<-k was originally found in I'xau Nash's town, with the ri'sult that it 
cventuallv becanu- the principal centic of trading in the connnodity. From half 
a mile aljove to half a mile below the tin-ee-arched bridge which Waller de ibiwere 

The Lowe.; Avon] BRIDGWATER AND ITS RAY. 71 

— tlie first of tliat ilk — commenced, and Sir Tliomas Trivet completed, in the reign 
of Edward I., the brickworks stretch, i^ivin.y employment to a lar<;c lunnber of 
hands, and forming- a source of considerable revenue. 

The current Avhich nearly overwhelmed General Fairfax in Bridgwater's stirring 
days of 1G45 is said to advance with such rapidity and boldness on the Parret as to 
rise no less than two fathoms on one wave. But, judging from the statement of 
another authority, this must be l)nt a moderate estimate of the dimensions to 
which the bore occasionally attains, since it is asserted that the upright wave- 
phenomenon of the Parret has repeatedly reached nine feet in height 1 This mm li. 
however, is po.sitively ascertained — that spring-tides in the iJristol ( 'liannel rise a full 
36 feet at the mouth of the Parret. 

King John gave Bridgwater its charter in I'iOO, but the Briwere familv, one of 
whom began the building of the great bridge over the Parret, were the real founders 
of the town and the actual authors of its commercial prosperity. The most .striking 
landnuirk in the birthplace of Admiral Blake, the great Republican commmder, 
whose ghn-ious achievement it was to defeat the '' invincible " Van Tromp, is the 
tall tower and tine spire of the parish church of St. Mary, 174 feet in height, and, 
therefore, one of the loftiest in England. A splendid altar-piece, said to have been 
taken from a Spanish privateer, is one of the features of the church. 

Six miles from the sea at Bridgwater, the Parret, as if loth to lose its indi- 
viduality, lingers in the rich valley, doubling the di.stance by its circuitous course to 
the Bristol Channel. At l^urnliam, just before the Severn Sea claims them, its 
waters are still further swollen by those of the Brue, a considerable stream, 
which, like the Parret, has a wealth of historical association, and is of some 
commerci;d significance. To the wharves at Highbridge, above Burnham, vessels 
of man}' tons burthen are borne by the tide ; here also are the gates and sluice- 
locks of the Glastonbury canal navigation. Then the united streams fall into that 
part of the Bristol Channel Avliich is known as Bridgwater Bay. A few miles to the 
north the Axe indolently pours into Uphill Bay the waters which it has brought 
from the flanks of the Mendips, where it runs a subterranean course some two miles 
long before issuing fortli in a copious flood from Wookey Hole — a cavern famous 
for the prehistoric treasures which it has yielded to the explorer — to flow through a 
2)icturcsque glen, and presently to drain the level plains of "West Somerset. 

Watering three counties, to the .scenic interest and Ijeautv of each of which it 
lends an infinitude of charms, the Lower Avon is not to be measured for its 
importance b}* its length (seventy-five miles), since there are far longer streams 
that one would willingly exchange for half the romantic valleys and the rich country 
of this river, which has its source in a piece of ornamental water at Escourt 
Park, in the neighbourhood of Great Tlnu'ston, where the boundaries of Wiltshire 
and Gloucestershire almost meet. 

Distinction is iuuuediately given to the stream. Just below the village it enters 



[The Lowek Atox. 

tlie frrouiids of I'iiicknov House, and after it lias passed Eastongrey and a dozen 
little tliorpes, the river claims proud association with liistorie ]\Ialmesbury — the British 
('aer Bladon, and the Aniilo-Saxon Ingelburne — which it enters on the west. This 
ancient town stands on the ridge of a narrow hill, sloping down steeply on its 
southern and northern sides, and is nearly surrounded l)y two streams wliich, uniting 
at its southern extremity, form the Avon. On tlie liighest point of the ridge are 

fhvto: J. Clark, IcUmry. 


seen the ruins of the fainous .M;diiiesl)ur\' Alihrx, whicli uiicc covered lorly-livc 
acres of ground. Lelaiid, writing in the time of llcnrN' \II1.. ilcxrilied it as a 
"right magnificent thing." The present remains aic small: Imt tlu- smilli porch 
is one of the finest sjiecamens of Norman work in the count i\. A port inn ui the 
.structure is still used as a church, .\notlici' nnlahle feature of the tnwn in wiiich 
William of Malmeshurv. the historian, was educated, is a (puiint iifteenth-century 
market-cross, to wliir-h alsu [.eland gave none l)ut honest ])iaise wlien he styled 
it "a righte faire piece of wnrkc."' .Maliiiesliur\- wliirh. 1>\ the way, was the 
liirlhplace of "Ixn'iathan" liolil>es has l)een huilt mi ihc peninsula lielweeii the 
Tethury «treani, flowing down Irom the ( iloucestershire town, and the lirst liegiiiniiigs 
of the .\von, whi<-h here accepts its earliest triliulary. 

I»i-n<ling- southward at .Somerfonl, another hranch Is caught up, this suhsidiary 
stream hailing from the neighbourhood of W'uoitiMi llassett. \\\ this time tiie .\\iin 

The Lowkr Avon.t 



lias bccomo no mean river, and iu its l)v |)auntscv and Sea.L;T\- to woody 
Christian llalford it forms a very prominent feature in the fine landscape that 
may be viewed from the hiuh liill to the eastward, on ihe summit of wliich stood 
Bradenstoke Priory, now converted to the use— we will not sav ignoble — of a com- 
fortable farmhouse. Fast jjatherinii' its supplementary forces, the Avon aftcM- passino- 
Kellaways and before reaching Chippenham welcomes the waters of the ^larlan. 


( 'hippenham, pleasant iu itself, but madi^ still more interesting bv rea.son of its 
surroundings in the fertile valley, is well nigh comjiassed about by the Avon, 
which here is a clear stream and of sweet savour. Later in its history it mav 
deserve the description of a dark and deep river, except Avlierc .■^hallows interfere. In 
its lower reaches it will be largely affected in colour by stoinus, Wilt.shire floods 
tinging it with the whitish hue of the chalk hills, and the Somersetshii-e rains 
A\itli the red of tlie ochre beds. l-Jut her(> it is a placid, plea.sant stream, which 
nuikes a bold sweep round the environs of the town, driving its mill-wheels and 
lending that dignity and interest which a river peculiarly affords 

Hitherto the Avon's gliding way has lain by the low-lying dairy lands of 
North Wilt.shire, through peaceful pastoral scenes, its banks clothed with th(> 
brightest flowers of the field, and here and there .shaded with willows and elms. 
But now, Ijeyond Chijipenhani, it embarks upon the che(|iiercd and romantic 


74 niVEES OF GREAT BUITAiy. [The Lower Avon. 

of its raropr. Tin- cimntrv bocDnics more hilly diret'tly wo noar the clothinji: district 
of Wiltshire. For a short space the Avon renders the useful service of a 
l>ouiidary. effectually dividiiiir Wilts and Somerset. The scenery of Chippenham 
Vale, throu<rh which the river Hows on to Melksham. Trowln-idue, and Bradford — 
a trio of interesting' towns, each watered by the same stream — is extremely beautiful. 

^felksham, a to^\^l of one lon<r principal street, is flanked by rich meadows, 
through which meanders the Avon. The quaint, old-fashioned liouses are built on 
the acclivity of an eminence which may fairly lie ascribed to the river's wearing 
work through the ages; and the inhabitants ai'e not witlmut r(>as<)n jtroud of their 
handsome four-arched bridge. 

Again there comes a season of increase, in which the river gains, from this 
.source and that, a considerable addition to its volume. At Broughton (Jifford a 
brook by that name surrenders to the briunning river from the west, whilst from 
the east enters the Whaddon strcandet. Tiien, again, near Staverton tlic little liiss 
joineth the great Avon. So our river swells witli Imixirtance as it approaches 
romantic liradford-on-Avon. The name of this town — liom the "broad ford" over the 
river — is b\' no means its oiil\' iiideljtedness to the A\(>ii, I'or the Jiighh' ]iictures(pu' 
sitiiatifin of Lelaiid's " clooth-making" ci'ulre is entirely the outcome of Nature's 
handiwork. Immediatelv on the north side of tlie river a hill abruptly rises, and it 
is on till' brow and aloim' tlie sloping il('i-li\it\" of this ciiiiiieiire that most of the 
tastefullv-de>igned dwellings have been erected. J'he deep and hollow valle\' ol the 

Avon now extends between two ranges, the hills here and there lichly \v led to 

their sunnuits : and pretty villages have scattered themselves along these bold 

Bradford-oM-Av(jn Church is of consideralile interest, and is remarkable for the 
success of its higldv sympathetic restoration by Canon Jones, the vicar, a distin 
guished arclia'i)loirist. Two brid<:-es here cross the Avon ; the most ancient, in the centre 
of the town, being desci-jbed l)v Aubrex', two centuries sinci-, as "a strong haml- 
.some bridge, in the midst of which is a chapel for .Mass."' ]5radford gained 
its original eminence in the woollen trade mainly from the introduction of ".spinners" 
from Holland in the .seventeenth <'entur\-, and lost it with the development of the 
greater Bradfonl of the Xorth, in the midst of the coallields. 

Befori', following'' the moi-e imjK'tuous course oi' tlii' now considerable rix'cr. we 
quit Bradford and its .seductive .scenes, the peculiar loveliness of the valley of 
tin; Av(»n in the vicinity of the town, and mon; ])articularly at such fascinating 
spots as Fre.shfield, ianiple\' Stoke — just where the liver leax'es Wiltshire and 
enters Somerset — and ( 'laverton, to name Imt a few, nnist lie remarked upon. 
Then Bhulud's creation, "Queen of all tlu; Spas in the World," "City of the 
Waters of the Sun," " Queen of the West," " Kiui: oi the Spas," gives greeting 
t(j the noble river that plays so great a part in tiie beautilication of the historic 
city lying at the foot of the valley of tlu' .\\iin. whence it has grown up its .steep 
liunks. iJelow Hriidloi-d the Frome has become a tril)utary of the Avon, bringing, 

The Lo^u Avon.] BATH AX I) ITS BRIDGES. 75 

besides its goodly stream, many most interesting reminiscences of its course. 
After flowing through the lower part of the agreeably situated town to which it 
gives its name, the Frome adds its charms to the manifold attractions of the 
scenery of Vallis Bottom. Just half a mile beyond the time-worn Priory of 
Hinton, which i-ear»s its ivy^clad tower amidst a gi-ove of venerable oaks, Fnmie 
merges itself in the Avon. 

As if Nature were hei-e conspiring to make the river worthy of the city of 
" Bladud, eighth in descent from ]3rutus," at Bathford the Avon receives the Box 
brook, from the vale of that name in Wiltshire, and, after a loop to the Avest, is 
joined at Batheaston by another small stream, the Midford, which has enhanced 
the romantic interest of the Vale of Claverton ; whilst a third brook descends 
from the heights of Lansdownc, the fatal battlefield of Sir Basil Grenville and his 
Cornish friends, who lost their lives for the Parliamentary cause under the ill- 
starred leadership of Sir "William Waller. 

A]iproaching the city of "Beau Xash" from the east, and passing between Bath- 
Avick and Bath proper, the Avon washes ''Aqua Solis " (or '"Sulls'') of the 
Romans on the .south, and plays its part in the fair scene which, "viewed mider 
the influence of a meridian sun, and through the medium of an iniclouded atmosphere, 
presents to sight and imagination everything that is united with the idea of 
perfect beauty.'' And yet, with all the natural advantages of its situation, Bath long 
awaited the touch of the wand of the modern magician — the man of enterprise and 
sj^eculation. There lay the deep romantic valley, gloriously encircled by the triple 
band of .splendid hills — towering Lansdowne to the north, 813 feet above the sea; 
Claverton and Bathwick to the east, some 600 and 400 feet in height respectiveh' ; with 
Beechen Cliff, Sham Castle, Camden Crescent, and LansdoAvnie Crescent, all fine natural 
view-points, below. Compare with the Bath of to-day the overgrown village to the 
practical government of which the famous Beau Xash succeeded in 1704, when ho 
followed the notorious gambler. Captain Webster, as Master of the Ceremonies, and 
you have some idea of the miracle of change and growth which has been performed. 
It was after the death of Beau Nash that the city, waxing great, extended its 
borders to BatliAvick, on the country side of the river. Towards the close of the 
seventeenth century, private munificence caused a bridge to be thrown across the 
river, and Bathwick itself, from being a daisied mcadowland, became a thicklv 
populated suburb. And even the bridge thus built was shortly occupied with rows 
of dwelling houses and shops, so that the connection between Bath and Bathwick 
was complete. Long prior to the building of this, the Poulteney bridge — nearlv five 
centuries before, in point of fact — the Avon was crossed by the St. Lawrence's, or 
the Old Bridge, as it is now usually called. Originally built in 1304, it became a 
prey to the fever of building s2:)eculation which had marked the career of the elder 
Wood, of the famous famil}' of Jiaih architects. Out of date, and, we may pre- 
sume, somewhat out of repair also, it was rebuilt in 1754. The Poulteney Bridge, 
cros.sing to Bathwick, followed in 1709; and half a century's growth of the jwpular 


7?/rf:/?.s' "/' nnEAT innr.ux. 

[Thk I,o\vi:k Avok. 

lower sul)ur1i revealing the need for fiirtluT moans of connmnnciition lliat would 
relieve the oougested trafiie, the Hathwick, or ( 'Icvclaiul. liridizc was added in 
1>>"27. Some rears later the North Parade Bridge was built. Witii tlic advent <)f 
the iron horse there had, l»v this tiiiie. arisen a newer neeessitv still. In coni- 
])arativi'lv ra|iiil succession the ^lidland Kailwav and the Skew Hridm — wliich 









AT llVTll. 

juslitics its nanu' liy the reniarkalde 
angle at wliidi it erosses the Avon 
— with tliree susj)ension l)ridir<'s and a foot-jjasseniicrs" liridge near \]\o station, have 

iJath hoast.s at one ecele.sia.stieal .structure of great interest, in the 
'• l^iinterii of England, "' a.s the tower of the Ahhev ( 'Inn-ch has lieen styled, ht-cause 
i»f tlie unusual nuinln'r and size of its windows. In the exce|itional height of the 
elerest«»ry and the oblong sha])c of the towci-. tlic iliuich is also distinuni-hed from 
the g-eneral. 

Out by the Western ( Jate tlir .\\oii runs, with llolhiway Hill and I'.ccchen < 'lilf 
conspicuous lamlniark.s on its left. l>\ Iwerton — "the tnwn tm tlic banks of the 
Avon"- there are largo eloth-inills mi the riverside, relics ol tlie moiuistic indu.s- 
trie.s establLsln-d liv the monks of Uath .so far l)ack a> the foiiitccntii cenlur\ . 

The Lower Avon J 



Fielding Terrace, in tins town, is the reputed neighbourliood of the residence of 
the novelist, who is said to have written a part of "Tom Jones'' during his stay. 

Now the Avon is in its ljelo\ed valley, deep and green again. Three miles, 
or a little 
more, from 
the city, a 
beautiful cir- 
cling knoll 
seems t(_> sluit 
in tlie vale. 
The hill is 
crowned with 
a handsome 
h o u s e, a n d 
or name nted 
witli wooil- 
1 a n d a n d 
awn. K 

vii;\v ruoM N(ihtfi I'Akahe iiiam 


ston Iv'ound Hill, as this impres- 
sive eminence is called, is 730 feet 
al)ove tlie sea-level, tlie Avon wind- 
ing at its foot and the ascending 
gro\es of Xewton Park reaching 
to the tine prospect and the high- 
est hill in this part of Somerset. 
Ere, at this point, we bid a re- 
luctant adieu to the beauties of 
ISath, it should be pointed out that 
in most of the conmianding and 
delightful views obtainable from 
all the vantage points in and 
about the city the Avon and its 
fertile valley conspicuously ligure, 
heightening the interest of each 
entrancing scene. It is no ex- 
aggeration to sa}' that the neigh- 

78 h'TVER!S OF Oh'FAT 7,7,7'r.l A.V. tThf i.o'bfk Avon. 

bourhootl of Hatli is rife witli .sconu- clmriii.s. Tlir iliffs. lavims, and deep 
excavations in thi' strata lend endless variety to tlie landscajie, which is finely 
compact of hill. vale. rock, wood and water, the strikin<i- l)eauties of the Avon's 
coni-se ever and anon lendin<i- a crownini;- irrace to tlie view. 

Below Kelston the nmre expanded vtdc of the Keynsliani Hams succeeds. 
Fli»\vin<r round tliis rich tract of land, tlie Avnn liecDmes tlie dividini;- line between 
(iluucester ami Somerset. Just beyond, uitjiin the parisli ni' Kcvnsliam. and 
midway between the sister cities of Hath and liiistnl, tiie waters of yet another 
tributary, the Chow, a stream which lias come down from the north side of the 
Mendip Hills, are g-athered up. 

Contracted iu its channel for more than a mile betwet'u loftv rocks at llanliam. 
the Avon, emeririnir from its straitened circumstances, diverts itself with the 
.strikinjrly siimous course which it then follows l)etween lh'i.slini;ton and St. Ueorge's, 
eie it is .sobered and di<rnilied l)y its contact with the traditional Caer Oder, "the 
City of the Ciuism," the birthplace of Sebastian Cabot, of Southey, and of Chattcrton. 
Before the river l»eirins to be tidal, it has another, perhaps its oroatest, recruit in 
the Lower Fromc. After a picture.s(|ue course. IJu' Frome washes the Bishop's 
Palace tit Staiileton, enters Bristol, and there it.self in the Lowi'r Avon. 

Between modern Bristol and the gTcat port of the ''sj)acious times" the differ- 
ence is one of de;j:ree onlv. for the commercial spirit is still strong in the sons of 
Cabot and Canynge ; and, amid the thick smoke that overhangs the very centre 
of the city, there e'en to-day the tall sj)ars, fluttering pennons, and the rigging 
of the ships of the mercantile marine that made the name of the opulent city known 
in every port and on everv sea, and linniLzht to Bristol 1)V the tidal river the trade 
that trimmed her sails to the breeze of fortune and set her course fair on the 
voyage to fame and prosperity. One of the earliest chai)ters of the history of the 
city is connected with the river. It records the building of the first bridge over 
the Avon in 1"J47. an undertaking nientioiied in a charter of lli-nrv 11. Tliis 
l)ridg«- united the city with what was then iIm' siibiirl) of KedclilVc. 'i'o-day, this 
association is sjdendidly ])reserved by that golden historical link, the " tiiu-st and 
stateliest parish church in Fnglaml," as Queen Klizabeth iiroiioiinced the edifice of 
St. .Mary liedcliffe on her visit to Bristol in 17")-'i. The style is the Karly 
Hnglish, though the lidil}- scul|»tiired niirthern doorway and some otlur jioitioiis 
belong ratlier to the Decorated I'eriod. The structure was founded about the year 
1-'W)0, but was enlarged, beautilied, and, in fact, refounded by William Caiiynge, 
whose elligy. with that of his wife Joan, will lie found at the end of the south 
transept. The upper part of the st(»ne steeple was struck down by lightning in 
144.J, and not rebuilt for uj)wards of four hundred years. It was in the muniment 
room of this church that young Thonuis ('hatterton jjrofessed to have found a miinber 
of curicjus .MSS. in prose and |)oetrv, the boy-poet's ingenious deception long escaping 
detection. Such success, which might never have attended tli(> confe.s.sed jiroductions 
of iiis own precocious genius, gave the gifted lad of seveiitei'n the neces.sary 

The Lo^ru Avon.] BRTSTOL AND CLIFTON. 79 

stimulus, and his growing' amliition led him to London, -where he became a 
mere literary hack, and took a life threatened by starv^ation. A handsome monu- 
ment in St. Mary Redcliffe churchyard pays Bristol's tril)utc to her great, but 
unhaj^j^y, son. Of St. Mary RedelifPe, the " pride of Bristowe," Camden said 
it was "the most elegant of all the parish churches I have ever seen." 

The present bridge replaced the thirteenth-century causeway in 176S. It was in 
1247 that the course of the Frome was diverted to a new channel. Anciently, the 
city boundaries were the two confluent rivers which environed it with a natural 
defence on all sides save one, where a castle stood, pi-otected by a Ijroad deep moat 
supplied with water from the Frome, which at that time flowed Ijy its northern 
walls. In Bristol Castle the son of the Conqueror, Robert, was sluit up by his 
brother Henry. 

Though it has been justly said of the Cathedral that it is remarkable neither 
for antiquity nor beauty, being far inferior to St. Mai'\' Redrliffe in at least one 
of these respects, the Berkeley chapel, forming the north aisle of the choir, is 
worthy of note as an elegant examjAe of P]ai-ly English. The salacious nave, with 
side aisles and clerestorv in the Early Dectn-ated style, is a modern addition. 
Among the animated busts are those of Joseph Butler, of " Analogy " fame — one of 
l^ristoFs famous line of bishops, two of wliom were of the "glorious company" 
of seven — Robert Southey, and the "Dorcas" of the city. Miss Mary Carpenter. 

In 1S09 our river became a fellow-sufferer with the Frome. The course of 
the .Vvon lay through the citv, but now a new channel was dug for it on the south 
side, leaving the river to fall into its original bed at Rownham Ferr}'. For the rest, 
the old channels of both the Frome and the Avon were converted into a fine 
floating harbour, which, at Cumberland Basin, will accommodate some of the 
largest vessels afloat. 

" The Chasm " itself, or, as it is more familiarly known, the Gorge of the Avon, 
Iving just below the Basin, is bridged l)y a triumph of modern engineering art. 
The Clifton Suspension Bridge — our English "Bridge of Sighs" for suicides — 
admits to a magnificent view of the Avon where it flows through the romantic 
defile of St. Vincent's Rocks. As the story runs, St. Vincent, a rival, caught the 
Griant Goram asleep, and once and for ever determined the course of the river by 
cleaving the ravine througli which the Avon now runs to the sea. Brunei's Bridge, 
after a remarkably chequered history — its construction being actually suspended for 
a period of nearly thirty years ! — was completed for the visit of the British Associa- 
tion in 1864. The foundations had been laid in 1886. The chains of Ilungerford 
Suspension Bridge at Charing Cross were taken down and here re-hung. The 
centre span — one of the longest in the world — is 676 feet in extent, and the 
entire length of the bridge is 1,3.32 feet. Fifteen hundred tons in weight, the 
stujiendous structure is a wonderful combination of strength and grace, adding a 
new interest and beauty to the impressive view rather than detracting from its great 
natural charm. 


nrvKHs or gfeat lutrrArx. 

TThk I/mwei! Avon. 

When ••('<Mik"s r<«ll\ ■■ :iikI tlio " ritcl\ and Pay" <rate. of ni<mvnful inouioiv, 
Iiave hot'ii pa-sswl. and wo have roadit'd Soa Mills on the riiilit tlirrc is a 
tlistinrt softeninir in tin- character of the scenery. lien- is tlu' su))i)<is(d site of the 
Konian station Altona. The Avon at this pouit is joined by tlu' small rivtr Tryni. 

-ITI <M Tin ■'III 1P11A« IlKTpr.V: Al KO-v TIIT. IIAUIIOl'K. 

I.fland. Iiavin;,-- tlic St. Vincent le;ren(l clearly in renieinl)rance, wrote oT it : " Some 
tliink a ;rreat piece of the <le|)eness of the haven, from St. Vincent to 1 lunuo-rode, 
Iiatli been much- l>v handi'." .\s we pass Till, wliicli riirnislirs pilots for thr port 
of IJristo], its anfient lisji-likc snu'll I'or.c^ ii-tll ii|)nii our attention. Now 
we near tlie last reach of the Avon,;i(l I'ill. wiieic the rivef widens ::reatly. 
iSiiUKfU.s H.H well mav Ije. and runnin;; iielween low hanks, tliose "sea-walks" of 

The Ldwik Avon.] 



rich iiiarsliland tliat lie about Birchampton, the river's course beyond that pretty 
neiglibourliood changes fast, and gathers a new and pictui-esque interest when the 
tide conies in. Now we are at the mouth of the Avon, and in that tine roadstead 
which the loyal Bristol seamen would have styled King's Road. 

From the decks of the great ships that here ride (uit the light gale in 
safety a glorious view, up river, along shore, and about the fine anchorage in the 
estuary of the Avon and the Severn, may be enjoyed. The pier and docks at 
Avonmouth form another splendid enterprise, which, if it has not come too late, 
may retain for Bristol something more than a rennuint of its ancient glory as the 
first port of the kingdom, a training ground for the British Navy, the haunt and 
home of sea-dogs who added many a gallant deed to the proiul annals of our 
island story. Hugh W. Stkong. 




• HAlTKi; 1. 
FROM Tin: sorKci: to tkwkksbury. 

IliiUi] lace of the Sevrm — riinlimiiioii — Uliienhafrcn — Llanidloes — Caersws — Xewtown — llintf^iiury - Welshpool — Towys 
Oistle— The Ureidden Hills— The Vyrnwy— Distant Views— Shrewsbury— Haiij,'hinond Hill— The Canidot- Hills— 
Atcham— Wroxetcr- Condover— The Wn'kin— Benthall and Wenlock Edges— Biiildwas Abbey— t'oalbrook Hale— Irou- 
bridgc- Uroscl.-y and Benthall— Coaljiort— Bridgnorth— Quatroi-d-Forest of Wyre— Bewdley-Stmirpoit— Woicoster— 
The Teiue— I.ndlow — Tewkesbury. 

1 1 II SI-;\'I', li'X. llidiiizli ;i iiiucli Idiiiicr river tliini the I )cc. i\<y it is 
the si'coiid * in Jiritaiu, is l)oni iimoiii;- k'.ss strikiii.ii' sceiierv. Tlic 
latter i.ssucs from an ui)laiul lake, enclosed by the poak.s of the Araiis 
and the fra{r<ry .slopes of the Areni<:s. l?ut .south of Cadcr Idris 
the mountains beeomc less .strikinfr in outline, the eliffs fewer and 
lower, the summits tamer. It is a repon not so much of mountains 
as of <rreat hills, which stretch away into the distance, ranjjc after 
ranp^o, like rollers (»n the Atlantic after a storm. 'I'he central point of this m-irion, 
the loftiest summit of Mid-Wales, is riiiiliiniiinn. which. thou<;h so insi<,niilicant in 
outline, attains to a hei^rht oi 2A^)'.i feet, and is the parent of (piite a famih of rivers. 
Of these, one is the Wye. the other the .Severn; the sources of the two, ihou<;h 
their j)atlis arc di>tinrt inito the i'ImI. when thcv niiiii:lc llifir watcis in llic liristol 

• The S<vem i» aliout L'iKt mile* in len;.'lli, ibc Thanii s Uiuc about L'.'.u. Tin- Die i.i hardly more than '. liles. 

The Severn.] 



Channel, are some couple of miles apart. Nor is the distance very great between 
the founts of the Severn and the Dec. If Ave suppose, as is generally doiie, the 
actual head of tlie latter to be on the flank of Aran Benllyn, the interval between 
the two is less than twenty-three miles. 

But to retm-n to the Severn, which rises on the north-east side of Plinlimmon, 
at Maes Hafren. (^ur first illustration gives a good idea of the scenery near its 
source : not, indeed, striking in outline — upland moors without trees, hills nearly 
without crags, covered for tlie most part with herbage, coarse on the lower ground 
near the rivulets, rank In the not unfrequent bogs, but finer on the upper slopes; 
somewhat monotonous in its tints, yet not without a charm of its own — a 
sense of freedom and expansion, which is sometimes felt to be wanting among the 
towering peaks and precipitous ravines of the grander mountain ranges. At first, 
as is the wont of rivers among such surroundings, the Severn wanders idly through 
the moorland, a mere l^rook rippling among stones and boidders ; then by degrees 
it begins to fray out a path for itself and to cut down into the underlying rocks. 
The second illustration shows it at this stage of life — the child just beginning to 
feel its strength — and, besides this, gives a good idea of the character of the hill 
scenery in Mid- Wales, of which we liavc alreadv spoken. The little Severn has 
now begun to 
strike out a 
way for itself 
on its journey 
to the sea; 
the general 
plan of its 
course curi- 
ously resem- 
bling that of 
the Dee. 
Thougli the 
two rivers ul- 
timately flow 
in opposite 
and finish 
their courses 
at opposite 

ends of the Principality, yet each rises well on the 
western side of Wales — each, though here and there AA'ith 
some flexures, maintains for long an eastward direction ; 
their paths onlv diverging when thev arrive at the 
margin of the lowland amon<.f the foothills of the more 





mountainous rofrion. Hut for smno distanco there- is little material cliani^c in tli(> 
♦roneral cliaraeti'r nt the st-ciierv, exeejit that the vallc3's unulually liccdiiir more 
clearlv tlefiiied. Tlie next pieture shows the youthful Severn about a mile and a 
half below its souree, at Ulai-nhafren. the first house in the nei<zhbourhood of its 
banks, the earnest of nianv a " tliorpe and tnwn" bv which its waters will How. 
A tlattish valley bed, a few rather stunted trees, some stone walls, ami a rough- 
built cottajre, with <n'eat billowy hills behind, nuike up a scene which is charaeteristic 
of a <rood nuiny square miles in ( 'cntral Wales. 

This is, as we have said, a com]»arativelv humlilc Ik i^innim:- for the s(>cond in 
IcuL'th amon^'' the rivc-rs of Hntain — for a stream wliicii passes nmre towns of 
iiistorie and anti(piarian interi'st than any other in the land, ami has been always 
the delijrht of poets. The liritons knew it as Ilafren, the Ixonums as Sabrina, 
from which, obviou.sly, the present name has arisen. I'or several miles from its 
birthplace its descent is <'omparatively rapid, but t:iaduallv the slope diminishes, the 
stream to brawl amon^ rocks and stones, the vallev wiilens. and alter a course 
of from a dozen to fifteen miles, accordiui: as its path is estimated, it arrives at 
its first town, iJanidJoes, where it is joineil on the northern .><itle by the Clywedoj.'-, 
which flows throu^rh a prett\- vallev ami seems to be a lomjcr stream tha.n the 
Severn itself. 

The .Sevekx.] 



At Llanidloes the Severn plunges abruptly into the busth> of life, for this is a 
town with some ten thousand inhabitants, which carries on a brisk trade in Hannels. 
But, except for its church, which is one of the finest in Wales, and has a hand- 
some carved oak roof, tliere is nothino- to liindcr the uncommercial traveller. 
For anothei- ton miles or so thci-e is little to noti' almio- tlie course of the river; but 
on approacliing- a station n'joicini;- in the modern name of jMuat Lane .lunotidn, 
where the line fi'om Machynlleth, descending the wooded vallev of the Carno, joins 
that which comes down from Llanidloes, one comes to two places which will re})av 
a halt. Here we are carried back over seventeen centuries of history. Here Briton 
and Roman in fornua- days looked at one another with no friendly eyes across 
the river ; the one, as was his wont, clinging to the mountains, the other to the 
valley and the river-side The gods of tlie one were gods of the hills, tliose of 
the other loved tlio plain. The one jn-eferred the eyrie from which, like the 
vulture, he could swoop to |)lunder. and to whicli he could fly for safety. The other 
made his hold sure on the fields, the river, and the roads ; for where he came there 
he meant to stay. 

The Ih'itish earthwork, C'efn Carnedd bv name, from its bastion-like hill between 
the Carno and tlie .Severn, commands a Ijeautiful view overlooking both valleys. 
In plan it is a blunt-ended oval, the longer axis lying nearly east and west ; on the 

Tin: i-msT jioisE uN the Severn: hlaknhafken (p. 84). 

8(^ nrrERS of great brttatx. ^THESE^•TR^■ 

latter sido and towards tho north it is enclosed liy a triple ditdi ;ind rampart, but 
on the southern side a single entrenchment, o\vin<r to the steepness of the liill, 
suffices for defence. The enclosed area, about oO<l yards in lenuth, rises slightl} 
towards the west, and at tliis end about one-third of the whole is cut off by a 
ditch and rampart, apparently witli the intention of forininc a kind of keep. 
Entrances mav still be foinid and the ajjjjroaches traced; these evidently were 
cunnin^dv devised so as to be connnanded by the defences : in tact, this must 
formerly have been one of the strouirest and most formidable aiiiouu- tlic hill-forts 
of IJritain. 'I'here are others in the neinhbourliood. thouiili these are inferior to 
Cefn Carnedd. 

The Roman fortress, Caersws by nanu'. is in the valley on tlic opj)osite liank 
of the Sovern. at a distance of some 300 yards from the river. This, too, must 
have Iteen in its day a jdace of g^reat streniith. It was enclosed by a high quad- 
rangular rampart, with a ditch outside, which still remains in most places, though 
they have been injured here and there, and one angle of the raUiim has been 
destroyed to make a .site for the railway station. Caersws. the Mediolanum of 
Tacitus, evidently was once a stronghold of gi-eat importance, for three Ronuui roads 
converge to it. The strategic advantages of the position are t)bvious. 

Tlie valley of the Severn is now broadening, and its scenery becomes richer 
and more fertile, although bare hills still rise in the ]>ackground. About four miles 
lower down another manufacturing town is reached, which, however, is considerably 
.snuiller than Llanidloes. This is Newtown, a place comparatively modern — as the 
name iniplies^ — which, however, has a certain commercial .status as the recognised 
centre of the Welsh flannel trade, but is otherwise uninteresting, except for a carved 
rood .screen and one or two more relics of an older building preserved in its 
modern church, and for being the place where liobert ()wen. the father of modern 
socialism, was born and was buried. 

Wandering on through scenery generally similar in character, pleasant, pretty, 
and liillv, but without any very bold features, the Severn in a few miles reaches 
Montgomery, a town which is peaceful enough now, but in former days was not 
at all suited for people desirous of a (|iii(t life, for it was one of the fortri-sses of the 
.Marches, over which Welsh and P^nglisji fought like dogs over a bone. .\s can be 
readily .seen, the casflc was a place of considerable strength, for it stands on a 
scarped, rockv headland, overlooking the valley. IJut of its walls and towers not 
much remains. Near at hand is a camp, but the first castle was built in the 
days of William the Xorman. After being thrice demolished 1>y tin' ANClsh, it Ih-- 
canie the residence of a noted family, the Herberts of ("herbury. Tlie last episode 
of interest in its history was a .struggle for its possession in the time of the Civil 
War. The Koyali.sts were defeated, ami the castle was idtimately "slighted" l)y 
the victors. At that time it was owned by lldward. iirst Lord llei-beit of Clierlniry, 
the eccentric philosopher, statesman, and gallant; and within its walls, his brother 
(leorye was born, as noted for the strictness as the other was for the laxitv of his 


reliji-ious views. In fact, this is tlie cradle of a distinguisliod race. The church is 
cruciform in phiii, and contains okl monuments of the Herbert and the Mortimer 
families. A romantic story is, or was, told about a bare cross visible in the grass 
of the churchyard ; it marks the grave of one Newton, who was hanged on a charge 
of rolibery and murder. He died protesting his innocence, and prayed that the 
grass miglit never grow about his burial-place, as a witness to the injustice of 
liis doom. 

Near Montgomery the Severn begins to change its course, and to trend more 
towards the north. Down a fertile valley it makes its way towards Welshpool, 
practically the capital of the sliire, for it is almost double the size of Montgomery, 
and is the assize tcnvn. Place and church date from olden times. Near to the 
town — approached through a gateway in the main street — is the family seat of 
Castell Coch (the Red Castle, from the stone of Avhich it is built), but more 
commonly called 1)y the simplei' title of Powys Castle. It has Ijcen greatly 
modernised, but a good deal is of Elizabethan or of Jacobean date, and some goes 
back to the thirteentli century. The site, a rocky knoll, descending stecjjly in 
natural terraces, has been occupied from the beginning of the twelfth centurv, 
and the earlier building had, of course, its due share of sieges, for, as the centre 
of the old district of Powysland, it was a place of some importance. In the 
surrounding park are some fine old oaks, and the views from the terraces under 
the castle are noted for their beauty ; they look over the wooded lowland and 
down the valley of the Severn to the arched back of the Long Mountain, and the 
bolder outlines of the Berwyns, of which one mass is foreshortened to be like a 
huge tumulus and the other forms a sharp pyramid. Entrenchments of various 
kinds and sizes show that all the district round was formerly one of importance. 
The noted "Offa's Dyke" is only a very few miles away, and interest is added 
to the sometimes monotonous aspect of the Long ^fountain l)y a large earthwork 
on the summit, where, according to tradition, was fought in 1294 the last battle 
for the independence of Wales. 

The Severn, still working in a direction more northerly than easterly, leaves the 
Long Mountain at the gap through which a railway passes towards Shrewsbury, and 
then sweeps back into its former course as it rounds the feet of the Breidden Hills. 
It needs but a glance at their bold and rugged outlines to see that they must be 
carved from a dilferent rock to that of which the Long Mountain and its neighbours 
is formed. Tliey consist of masses of lava and of hard slaty rock, of a more ancient 
date than the mudstones of the adjoining district, forming, in fact, a kind of outi^ost 
of the Ordovician or Lower Silurian rocks of the west. The highest point, Moel-y- 
golfa, is as nearly as possiljle 1,200 feet above sea-level, and its pyramidal outline 
adds to its apparent elevation. Another, the Breidden j^i'oper, is a heavy mass like 
a flattened dome; it bears a pillar to commemorate Rodney's victory in 1782. Tlie 
hills are well suited for a wsitch-tower, for they command a view far and wide — 
in one direction over the Welsh hills, in another towards the Shropshire lowlands. 



[The Sevbrx. 

Two or tliroo niilos further a tril)utarv oiiti'rs tlic Severn, lariicr tlian any 
which it has hitlierto reeeiveil. Tliis is the Vvrinvy, wliieh (hains a considerable 
area south of a watershed extendini^ fn)m near Aran ]\Iowdd\\y to tlie l^erwyn 
Hills, thoiigrh now a heavy tribute has been exacted from its waters liy ihc lown of 
Liverpool. This irrcat feat of cnirineerinu' was coni])l(>te(l, after years of laljour, in 

V •''■ ■\j:!j^. 

nii'iiiv, imiM WKLMil'DOL (;;. 87). 

1890. Tp to that time Liver|)ool liad drawn its nuiin supply from reservoirs on 
Rivin^iton I'ikc. A Inijre dam, ms our ilhisliation ( pajjo 80) shows, has IxH'n buih 
across the narrowest ]Kirt of the \'yrnwy \all(y. it is 1. •.'.■).") feet in len,i>tli and (i(» in 
height; the foundations, which at some ]iarts had to he carried down to a depth of 
50 feet, resting on the solid rock. ISy this means a la]<e lias lieen foi-med, 
four miles in length, whidi hides beneath its waters — SOI I feet aliovc .sea-level — a little 
village and its chiu-ch. A curious mound ri.scs near the junction of the two rivers, 
designed, as .some think, to guard the jjassage; and then the Severn, turning again 
tr> the east, pa.sses on towards Its valh'V now has become more o]ien : 
parks and country houses here and there dajiple the gentler slopes within no gnat 
distan<'0 of the river, and the views of the liills ;iiv always bcautil'id. 

The group of the IJreiddens is grailualK h'ft lichiud. then lises the steep mass 
(»f I'ontesburx Hill, biicki'd by the long ridge of tlie Sti)ier Stones, with tlieir broken 
crests of rugged ami hard white rock, and liclilnd them the bni;i(i b;i(k> of ihe 

The Severn.] 



Longmynds oi- the distant pyramid of Corndon. But, of couvse, to enjoy to perfection 
A-iews of the land which feeds the upper waters of the Severn, it is necessary to quit 
the valley and obtain a Pisgah sight from some commanding hill. Thence we look 

c after mile of lowland, 
, cornfield, and pasture, 
g downwards from bare 
rougli hillsides on which the copses 
often are thickly clinging, to the 
margins of brooks and to the Ijod 
of the main river. To the west, 
line after line of hills recedes 
more dimly into the distance, till 
at last one shadow is pointed out 
as Plinlimmon, and another, yet 
fainter, as Cader Idris, and some- 
times an apex of a far-off pyramid 
is said to be Snowdon. South 
of us, and \et more to the east, 
lie the nearer masses already mentioned, while in these directions the eye may 
detect, from .some points of view, the peaked summits of the Caradoc Hills, or may 
rest upon the huge hog's Itack of the "Wrekin as it rises aljruptly from the Shrop- 
shire lowland. There are few prettier districts in our country than the borderland 


Photo: Rohins07i <i: Thompson, Liverpool, 



[Thk Sevkkx. 

l)et\vocii Eiiirlaiul and Wales; and that part of wliich we now s])eak ean Imld its 
own with iiuist others. Ilei-e and tliere. pi'rhaps, the hills are a little bare, and 
wo seldom lind much boldness of outline. In tlie Shelve distriet also, the lead mines 
with theii- white spoil-lianks are distinctly an oti'ence to the eve; but the wooded 
irlens are often sin<'ularly l)eautiful, and the outlook from the heath-covered moor- 
lands <rives a of breadth and freedom, like the open sea. 

As it nears Shrewsbury, the Severn (piits for a time tlu> hill-eountrv. thou«i-h it 
is oidy ni'ar the waterside that the land is distinctly a \)hnn. The town itself 
is at the edsre of a low jilateau. and sonn- of its .sti-eets are fairlv steep, though 
the ascents are not long;. The situation is hne, and in former days, when the 
town Avas restricted to narrower limits, must have been much nu)re striking than 
it is at present. The river lieiuls in sharp curves, like a reversed S, as thougli the 
hills had nuule a final strugg-lc to hold il in bondage. Of loops, that on 
the ea.stern .side is the larg-er; and it forms a kind of horseshoe, almost enclosing 
a hllTy lu-adland of moderate elevation, which .shelves down towards the neck of 
tilt' isthmus, l)ut falls steeply, sonu'times almost ju'ecipitonsK-, towards the river brink. 
i hus. with the Severn for a moat on move than three sides, and a comiiai-atively 
narrow and defensilde ajiproacli on the fourth, tlie jiosition is almost a natm'al strong- 
hold, ami it was selected at a comparatively early date as the site of a fortified 

If we could l)elieve certain chroniclers, the history of Shrewsbury would begin more 
than four hundi-cd years before the Christian era ; l)ut we can hardly doubt that the 
town exi.sted in the days of the Komans. Towards the close of the sixth century invaders came mai'auding up the valle\- of the Sever)i, and destro\-ed 
the old city of Wroxeti'r. For a time tlie fugitives found a refuge in the 
fortified pala<-e of the I'rinces of Powis. wjiich then stood on the headland now 
occu])ied by Shrewslnny ; but before long that stronghold also became a prey to the 
plunderers, and the liritons were forced to .seek safety anumg tlie fastiu'ssi's of 
Wales. Then IVngweni, as it had been call(>d, becanu> Scrobesbyrig — ''the burgh 
of bu.slies" — from which obviously it has obtained its present name. Before very 
htufr it.s imjtortance as a frontier town was fidly recognised. l)ut at lirst it remained 
.small— probably it was too near Wales for merchants or for nu'n of peace 
— .M) that at the date of Domesday liook, thougdi it had fom- churches, it contained 
only 'J.Vi The castle was built a few xcars later ])\- Roger dc Montgcunery, 
a Nonnan earl, and a gateway leading to the inner court is a reli<' of his work. 
Tlie enclosing wall of the town was completed in the reign of ilein\ III. Tliis 
follows, as far as po.ssible, the line of the ancient river-clilV, which on the south- 
ward .side is parted from tin; Severn by a .strip of level land. Portions of this wall 
.still remain, and it can be traced more or less perfectlx along the southern and 
eastern sides. 

The fortress resisted Steplien. wlio besieged it in ]l;;.S; en its fall, b\- \va\ of 
reading a le.s.son to his enemies, he liaui^cd ninel\-foin- of the deb'nders. Pater on. 

Thk Severn] 8HREW8BTIRT. 91 

Shrewsbiirv was twice betrayed by tlie Welsh, and had one or tAvo otlier " sensa- 
tional " experiences, till the famous fight "fur a long hour b}' 8hrewsbury clock." 
It was a race for the fortress between Hotsj^ur and Henry IV., which was won b\- 
the king, who succeeded next day in forcing an action at a })lace since called 
Battlefield, about a league north of the town, and a mile from the Severn. The 
river figures more than once in the accounts of the marching and counter- marching- 
connected with the battle, in which, as everyone knows, the king gained a complete 
victory, Hotspur falling on the field. Some of his principal a.ssociates felt the heads- 
man's axe a coujjle of days after the fight. In the Wars of the Roses the town was 
for the House of York, and two sons were born to the Duke within its walls: one 
died in infancy, and the other was tlie younger of the two lads murdered in the 
Tower. In the great Civil War the townsmen repaired their ruined Avails and 
declared for King Charles, who spent a short time in ShreAvsbury early in the 
struggle ; but, later on, they were caught napping, for two parties of the Parlia- 
mentary Army efPected an entrance during the night, one of them hv scaling the 
steep slope below the old Council House. This daring band was headed by Captain 
Benbow, Avho afterwards took part Avith Prince Charles, was captured at Worcester, 
and was shot on the scene of his former exploit. He Avas buried in St. Chad's 
Church, "October y'' 16th, 1651," as may still be read on his tombstone. Since then 
Shrewsbury has dwelt in peace, and dm-ing the last half-century has increased 
greatly and prospered proportionally. It is now a A'ery important railway junction ; 
the station, too small for its present needs, being on tlie lower ground on the eastern 
side of the neck of laud already mentioned. 

In former days the river Avas crossed by two bridges only, giving access to the 
headland — one from the eastern side, and so called the English bridge; the other, 
from the north-Avestern, Avhich, of course, bore the name of the Welsh bridge. Both 
were fortified in mediasval times, but they were rebuilt in more modern fasliion 
during the eighteenth century. South of the Welsh bridge the jjlateau occupied by 
the old toAvn slopes more gently down to the brink of the Severn. This irdrt — a 
grassy space, planted with avenues of trees, Avhich has long borne the name of the 
Quarries, from some old excaA-ations — noAv forms a public park, Avhich, as may 
be inferred from the illustration (p. 95), adds greatly to the attractions of the 
town. Between the Welsh and Elnglish bridges is the Boathouse Ferry. 

Shrewsbury has produced its fair share of eminent men, among whom are the 
fighting old admiral, Benbow, and the great naturalist, Charles Darwin ; but for 
many years past its school has been among its chief glories. Tliis Avas one of 
EdAA^ard VI.'s foundations, but it assumed its present high position as a nursery 
of scholars under Dr. Butler, who Avas appointed headmaster about the beginning 
of the present century. A few years ago the ancient site had to be discarded, for 
more room had become imperatiA^eh^ necessary, and new buildings Avere erected on 
Kingsland, an excellent site near the edge of the plateau to the smith-west, looking 
towards the town across the Severn. The old school buildings, which are on the left- 


J.7r/;/?.« OF GREAT lUilTAlX. 

[TiiK Severn. 

hand side of the road iroiiii:- down to the railway station, arc of ronsidorablc arclii- 
toL-tural interest, for thev date from the end of the sixteentli century: they arc now 
used for a town nniscuni and free Hhrary. But to a h)ver oT anliitcctuiv. tlie 
es])ecial diann of Shrcwshurv lies in its old lihick-timlHTcd lioiiscs. In these it is 
riclier than anv t(.wn. even in the West of KHi:hiud, witli tlie soh' cxcciition of 


Cliester. Indeed, even after tlic '• improvements" whii-h have l)een rciKh'red 
necessary hy the dcveloimient of commei'cc". tlie street architei-tare of SJu'cwshury 
is universally fjiiaint and attractive; for we iind, shidlled t<i,i;ether like the cards 
in a i)ack, liouscs of all dates durinjx the last three centuries. This ,<>ives a 
])ictMrcsf|iie irre^rnlarity both to the facades and the sky-lines in tin- sticets. I'.ut 
these Mack - timliered lioiises kecj) the chance visitor in a constiint state of (piiet 
excitement: lie never kn(tws wlial may be disclosed at the next tiniiini:-, for 
Slirewsbin-y is ])re-einiiiently a town of jdeasant architeelnial surprises. Sonu' of 
tiie houses are dateil ; as is asuul, tluy i^cnerally bcjoni:- to the latei- part ol 
Hlizabeth's rc-i^rn. nnd all probably weiv Iniilt duriny- the lialf eenlury cenlrin-^' on 
the year HHMi. The l)e.-t specimens are Inlund's Mansion In the Ilidi Street, and 
the •rronp of old .-hops in l'>ut(lier IJow, which is considered by .Mr. Parker to be the 
fincHt example of the kind in IJii:Iand. 

94 RTVERf! OF GREAT BHITAIX. [Thk sevebk. 

lint if tlio antiquavv halts in Slmnvslmiy lie will not iind it very easy to 
take his ilciwirtuiv. Two of the Shrewsbury churcliLs are unusually int( nstinii- ; 
one. St. Marv's, tlie principal chureh of the town, stands almost on the brink of 
the river-rliff. a little to tlu' south of the eastlc, and its tall ta])erinu- spire 
adds inTeatlv to the pieturesipie L;Touj)iiiL;\ which, notwithstandini:' niodcin cIkuiii'cs, 
the town still presents on the eastern side. St. Clary's is a church of \arious 
dates, impossible to describe in a few words ; for it has brcn altered and 
auj.niienfed rejteatedlv. There is Xonnan work in the north and south porches 
f>f the nave and in the basement of the tower: llarK l",n;:li>li in tlie transej)t; 
Decorated and Perpendicular in the bodv of the cliurch. the I'ast winilow bein<;' a 
vcrv fine example of the former stvle. It has recenth' underiionc considtTalde 
structiu-al repairs, for the upper ](art of the spire was blown down in a t;ale early in 
the rear 1S94. and its fall ureatK- daniaL;-ed the roof of the nave and the littiniis ui 
the interior. IIolv Cross, the other inii)ortant church, conniionly called tl:e Alibey. 
stands f»n the low frround, or in th(> l''ore_ii'ate, cm the En<ilish side of the fortress, on 
the riirlit bank of the Severn. It is a relic of an abbev founded by the lirst Norman 
lord of Shrewsburv. The vicissitudes whicli it has experienced are ol)vious at a 
judance. The rather low western tower, with tlu' bavs innnediately ;uljoinin<r, are 
evidence of a reconstruction in the fourteenth century; and Perpendicular work is, 
on the whole, the more conspicuous in the western and older part. We rail often — 
and with good cause — at the restorers of our own age, but lhe\' <if tlie century and 
a half before the Reformation v.cre no wiiit better, as this churcii can testify. The 
east end is mo(lei-n, for it was destroyed after the dissolution of the monasteries, 
and wa- oid\ rebuilt in 1S,S7; but some fine massive Xonnan work remains inside 
the church, especialh' in the ])illars of the nave, and there ari' some interesting 
monunu-nts. The conventual buiUlings have been destnyed, except a stone jmlpit, 
which was once in the refectory, and now remains looking disconsolately at the 
rails and trucks in the goods-yard of the rail\va\': for this occupies the site of 
the niona.stic buililings, and is on the opposite side of the Severn to the station. 

On leaving Shrewsbur\-, the Severn still continues to wind. lnniiediatel\- below 
the town, it strikes off in u north-easterlv direction for will o\(r a mile, then, 
again swinging to und fro, it almost touches the foot (d 1 lauglunoiid Ihll, from 
wliich it recoils, .still oscillating, in a direction rather east of south. it has now 
entered an undulating- and fertile district, where in one place its waters How by 
.some river-cliff or wooded brae; in another, between fields wliich shelve gently down 
to its brink; in a third, through fhit meadows, over whiili, a.s can sometimes 
be detected, it has taken in past aijes more than one course. Now more (>xtensivc 
views may be obtaimd. e\(n from its stream- views to which a distinctive character 
and a sjM-cial charm is often added b\ the ]iec\diar shapes o| the hills winch here 
and there (juite suddenly from the lowlands. ( )f them, llaiiglnnond Hill :> one; 
the Wrekin is an<»ther, but on a far larger scale: the ( 'aradoc Hills are a liiird 
instance, but these form tjinte a little range. ,\11 have the same origin; they ari' 

The Severn.] 



wedge-like masses of very old and hard rofk, tlie relics of |n"in)a?val volcanos. whicli 
crop out here and there among the softer sandstones and marls from which the 
long-continued action of rain, stream, and river has carved the Shropshire lowland. 
Haughmond Hill looks down upon the scene of the Ijattle between the forces of 
Henry IV. and of Hotspur, and is associated with its memories, for the Douglas, 

will) had come 
to aid the 
Percies, while 
seeking to es- 
cape along its 
craggy slopes, 
was so disabled 
by a fall that 
he was taken 
prisoner. On 
the western 
side of the 


Hautmont — for 

that was the 

original name 

— a priory was 

founded h y 

William Fitz- 

alan, in tlie 

daA's of King 

Stephen. The 

m o n k s s o o n 

found their 

Avay to royal, and even to papal, favour, for thoy were j^ermittod to say the divine 

office in a low voice and with closed doors, even when the land lay under an interdict. 

Then the priory became an abbey of the Augustinian order, until at last it shared 

the fate of all others at the Reformation, passing into lay liands and being cared for 

no longer. It is now a complete ruin ; the church is gone, though just enough 

remains to show that it was cruciform in plan. The monastic buildings have been 

nearly destro^•ed, though a couple of Norman doors remain, and the more important 

structui-es can be identified. The best preserved part is the chapter-house, in the 

{p. 91). 



[The Severn. 

west front of whioli arc tliret' Hue arches in the 'rransitional-Xonium stylo. Tlie 
views from the shtpes abt)ve are very attractive, as the e\e ranges over the 
Shr(ij)sliire lowhimls. with their ricli alternations of pastin-e, cornfield, and wood, 
to the ridjros alreadv named, and still t'm-tlier towards the Lonuinxnds, the 
Hreiddens, the Herwyns, ami the yet more distant ranires of Wales. 

On winds the Severn, jilidinij with steady tlow l»y meadows, shelving- helds or 
copses, till it comes at last to Atfliam. with its bridi:e and i)ictui('si|ii(' old church 

;11P\\ AN AIIHKV (/). 98j. 

near the waterside. Here was born Ordericns, afterwards historian of William 
the ( '<in(|ueror. .\boiit a mile below, the little Tern adds ils waters to tlie Severn, 
near the home o|' the iierwick";: and \(t another mile, ami the riv( r L;li<les l)v 
the jiarish church of Wroxeter, with its interest ini:' Xoimau \\<irk, and the site of 
the liomano-Hritish citv of I'riconimn, on the famous W'alHni:- Street road; founded, 
as is supposed, about the reii:n of Trajan, to guard the passages over the Severn 
and the outlets fi-om Wales. In the year ■'»77 a band of Wi'st Saxons forced their 
wa\'. pliMidering and destro\ing as the\' went, up the lich \alle\- ol' the Severn. 
l'ri<"onimii was taken, and, as the bard lamented, " The white town in the \alle\' 
went up in flames, the town of white stone gleaming among tlie green wnodland ; 
the hall of its chii-llain lelt without fire, without light, without .song: the sih'uce 
broken <inl\- bv the ejigle's scream — llie eagle who had swallowed fresh drink — 
heart's lilood of K\nd\lan the Fail-." The walls of Iriconium were three miles 
in extent, and llii' area eni-Iosed was larger li\ nearly a third than that of Tonipeii. 

The Seveen.] 



Excavations have been made wliicli have disclosed u l)asilica, or public hall, a hypo- 
caiist belong'ing- to the baths, and many foundations of houses; but no work of a 
higfli class, eitlier in architecture or in decorative art, lias 1)een discovered. 
Uriconium at best was only a provincial city, and that in distant Britain ; and 


even if it had possessed anv inijioitant buildinj;s, the}- would have i)erislied, if not 
from the fury of the barbarian invaders, at least by the hands of those in later days, 
wdio used it as a quarry. Most of the things dug up arc preserved in the nuiseum 
at Shrewsbury. '' In the corner of the hypocaust three skeletons were found — one 
of a man, and two of women ; by the side of the former lay a heap of copper coins, 
numbering a hundred and thirty-t\\(), which belonged to the days of the later 
emperors, and some bits of rotten wood and rusty iron, which may have been the 
fragments (jf a box. It is supposed that som(> jioor wretches, perhaps servants at 
the baths, sought refuge here during the sack of the city, and tlien perished, either 
sufPocated by the smoke of its Inu-ning or Ijuried alive by the fahen ruins." ■■■ 

Below Wroxeter, the undulation of the country througli wliich the Severn now 

* "Our Own Country,'' Vol. V., p. KiU. 


[The Setebn. 

flows, for a time witli a straig-hter course, becomes ratlicr more stronjjlv mavkod. 
Tlie CVmiuI brook joins the river on the ridit, flowing down l)v Condover village, 
•with its Hall, "a perfect sjjccimen of Elizabethan stcmework,"" and its interesting 
church and monuments. Then the Severn glides under a red sandstone cliff and 
Iteneath the wooden bridge of Cressage, with its memoiies of old oak trees; then 
through wooded ravines as the ground begins to rise. On its right bank cojise-clad 
slopes enrich the view. Avhile in erne direction or another the great hill masses stand 
out against the sky. Among these the "Wri'kin is generallv the most conspicuous, 
and now for a time it rises on the northern side of tlic ri\(r almost without a rival. 
It is the .Salopian's landmark— his Olympus or Parnassus — "all round the Wrekin " 
is liis toast. This is no wonder, for few hills in Hiitain, considering its moderate 
elevation — l.:{-2(i feet above the sea — arc inoic imposing in aspect, because it rises so 
boldly and alnniptly from the lowland; and though the Salojjian could not assert 
that "twelve fair counties saw the light'' of its beacon fire, as was said of the 
Malverns, still, ivom far distances and from miexpected 2)laces the Wrekin is 
visible. In shape it is a rather long ridge, steej) on either side, capjx'd bv three 
fairly distinct suuunits. of which tlii> central is the highest. Hut from manv points 
the lower sunnnits seem to l)e lost in the central one, and the Wrekin assumes a 
form rudely resembling a huge tumulus. Like several of the other hills, it is 
largely comj)o.sed of verv ancient volcanic rocks. 

As we look down the stream, the view before long appears to bo closed l)v a 
wooded ridge, which .seems at to prohibit fuitlicr }) This is IJenthall 
Edge, which may be said t(> Ijegin at J>iiico]n Hill, on tlic left bank nf the Severn, 
and on the opposite side to join on t<i Wenlock l-!(lge. to tlic smith-west. It is 
formed nf the Wenlock limestone. Ix'Ionuiug to llie Silurian svstem, and .so called 
from the townlet of Much Wenlock. This owes its origin and ]iart of its name — for 
" Much'' is a corrupti(jn of moii'isfen'/uii, like nioiifirr in French — to its priorv, once famed 
as "the oldest and most privileged — perhaps the wealthiest and most magnificent — 
of the religious of Shropshire.'' Now it is only a ruin, except that the 
])riorv-h<juse is still inhabited, and is a remarkably good instance of a domestic 
building of the fifteenth centiii\-. Tlie riniis, however, ai'c very extensive, and in 
parts most ))icturesf|ue. But as tlicv arc a league^ away from the riverside, and 
are hi<l by the wooded slopes of A\'enlock Edge, we nuist turn to another ruin, 
which stands on the level strath, almost hy the waterside, just before the hills in uj)on the Severn. This is Huildwas Abbey, formerly an abod(> of the 
Cistercians, which bears traces of that strict order in tlic simplicity of its archi- 
tecture. Still, its ruins are admirable in tlieir nulilc siin)ilicil \\ " Tliey ini])ress 
us witli the power of its design«'r, who vcntiucd to tnist >1iii|p1\ td the strength of 
his composition and the grace of his outlines, so as to dispense witli almost all 
ornamenfation whatever. It thus gives it a sense of calmness and icpose, for which 
we »eek in vain in works of more modern date." * The stvle indiiatcs the passage 

•"Our Own Country," Vol. V.. p. lUH. 


from Xnrman to Early Eno-lish ; the influence of the latter, on the whole, pre- 
douiinating. The church and chapter-house are still in fair preservation. The 
abbot's house — mainly thirteenth-eenturv work — has been restored, and is inhabited. 
Tlie date of the foundation is a little inicertain : but it is l)clieved to have been 
about the middle of the twelftli century. Buildwas was a wealthv alibej' in its 
day, but made no fluure in liistorv. 

Through the ridge of Benthall Edge the Severn has sawn its way, so that the 
river-valley now becomes almost a gorge, along Avhich, on the abrupt southern side, 
the Severn Valley railway has been conducted, and this not without consitlerable 
engineering difficulties. Wooded steeps and grey crags on either side of tlie strong- 
stream flowing at their feet form a series of exquisite pictures, though unhappily not 
for long-, for a change comes where the dirty hand of man has smirched the face 
of Nature. To the north and to the east of the limestone hills lies the most noted of 
the Shro^jshire coalfields, that of Coalbrook Dale, which is rich also in iron, though 
its mineral wealth is becoming exhausted. Dismantled engine-houses and great })iles 
of dark rubbish are only one .shade less unjjicturescpie than tall chimneys vomiting 
Ijlack fumes, .smelting- furnaces, the apparatus of the i)it-mouth, and smouldering 
spoil-banks. But before the days of " smoke, and wealth, and noise," this part of the 
ravine of the Severn, and even Coalbrook Dale itself, mu.'^t have Ijeen very beautiful. 

Ironbridge is a dingy-looking town, built on the steep hillside, which gets its 
name from the metal arch — \'20 feet in span — Ijy which the Severn was bridged in the 
-\-ear 1770. < h\ the opposite side of the river, hardly more than a mile away, i.s Broseley, 
noted for pottery and clay pipes ; and another mile west of that, Benthall, equallv 
noted for encaustic tiles. The neighbourhood of the Severn, as far as Coalport, 
lias fallen off in beauty as it has increased in wealth. But soon, in a geological 
sense, "the old order changeth, yielding place to new": the Severn cpiits the coal- 
measures to enter once more upon the red rocks, wliicli belong to a more recent 
period. Smoking chimneys and spoil-banks are left behind, the valley widens, 
though the scenery continues to be far from tame, and we pass on Ijy Linley and 
by Apley Park ; the river sometimes gliding beneath sandstone crags and steeply 
sloping woods, till in about four miles we reach Bridgnorth. 

The situation is a striking one : the Severn has carved out a dee}) and rather 
narrow valley in the sandstone rock, and a tributary stream has fashioned another 
after a like pattern. Between these the upland forms a wedge-like promontory, 
defended on either side by a steep, almost precipitous, scarp. On this, not very 
much less than a couple of huncb-ed feet above the river, the upper town, the 
chm'cli, and the castle were l)uilt. The town has gradually climljed down the 
eastern slope towards the Severn, it lias spread out along its margin, it has crossed 
the stream and iias occupied the tract of level meadow on the opposite side, the 
two portions being connected by a bridge which is in part far from modern. Fi-om 
the lower town here to the upiier one on the plateau is a steep ascent, eren though the 
principal road winds up. Tlie church stands near the edge of the scarp, on which the 



[The Severs. 

wall of its <rravoyard is luiilt. Xocdless to say, it eonunaiids a vcrv striking- view — 
sandstone crags, and stoi'ply sliolving woods and o-roen fields beyond, with the river 
and the lower town in the glen beneath. The most interesting jiart of Hridgnorth is 
its broad High Street, bounded at nwr end li\ a uatcwav. with the olil market hall 
— a Iilaek and white structure, ol the date Ki.VJ. whicli is snpjiortcil mi brick 
arches. 'J'his .-trcet also cuntaius one or two iim- houses <>[ ;iliiiiit the same era. 

■ iiM.,: ij,. iiyj. 

Others, again, will lie louml in or near to the cliurcliyard. and v(>t anotlier near 
the end of tlic sti-eet. which descends so steeply as the main wa\- to tlic lower 
town. This, which bears the date 1 .")S(i. is a p:iiticiil;n]\- -,„k1 spccinicn ol' tlie 
l»lack-tindiered houses so abundant in the valley ut the Severn. Here, in the xcar 
i72!», Percy was born, the collector and editor oi the " K'eliijues of .\nciciit Ijiglish 
I'oetry."' liridgnorth Ca.stle also nnist not be forgotten : occup\ ing the extremiiv of 
the proniontfny already mentioned, it was a place of great strength in olden <lays, 
and stood more than one siege. It was destroyed after lioldiii;;- out for a month for 
King Charles. The conspicuous remnant is a massive wall, a portion of the 
keep, which has heeled over to one side, at so -reat an ;nigl( — about 17 (legre(>s 
—that it looks actually un.sab'. The adjacent chuicli was designed by Telford, 
the enn'nent engineer, tip whom we are more indebted lor the suspension liiidge 
over the Menai Straits than Inr this rather ugly Uenai.ssance building. 



For some miles below Bridgnorth the valley of the Severn is extremely pretty, 
the banks half slopes of pasture, half masked with trees. " Now it is a little wider, 
now a little narrower, the hills a little steeper here or a little more wooded there, 
the crass bv the riverside always <rreen. the Severn sweeping: t)n as it swings from 
side to .side of the valley," and breaking here and there into a series of little 
rapids. It passes Quatford, the site of a Saxon fortress, which was erected in the 
tenth centurv, and through the PWest of Morf, long since brought under cultiva- 
tiun. (Quatford was a jilace of some impoi'tance till some years after the C'on(piest, 
wlitn Ihidgnorth M'as built, and most of its inhabitants removed to the new strong- 
hold. The river leaves on its western side the old Forest of Wyre, which, though 
it still i-etains some jirettv woods, had lost its best trees even so long ago as the 
days of Camden. It is now l)ettor known as a coalfield, though it is not one of 
much commercial importance. 

The Severn glides on lieneath the wide arch of an imn railway bridge 
and across the parting of Shropshire and ^^'orce.stershil•e to l^ewdley, pleasantly 
situated on a slope bv the river-bank, and well worthy of its name, liciii lint. In 
olden times it had an extensive trade by means of the rivir. wlien it was a place 
of import and export, especially for the Principality. All the coinitry round is prett\', 
notwithstanding occasional symptoms of factories. The lanes are sometimes cut deep 
in the red sandstone, and here and there the rock is hollowed out into dwellings 
after a jmmjeval fashion. Three miles or so away to the east is busy but un- 
jjicturesfjue Kidderminster, famed for its carpets. Stourport follows, not less, 
and \ct less picturesque, where the Severn is joined by the river after which 
the place is named. Here the construction of tlie Worcestershire and Staiford- 
.shire ('anal has turned a liaiiilet into a tnwn. Undulating groinid on either 
hand, the long low line <d' the Lickey Hills some miles away to the east, the 
.slightlv more varied forms of the Abberley Hills on the, limit a piece of 
country pleasant to the eye tlnougli which the Severn flows for several miles, Shrawlcv and Ombersley. Then the valley becomes a little broader and flatter. 
Tlic .scarj) of the Cotswolds, with Hredon ("loud as an advanced l)astion, replaces the 
Lickey Hills, and on tlu^ othi'r side, as the tower of Worcester Catliedral i;rows more 
and more conspicuous in the view, the ^lalvern Hills, with llicir mountain-like out- 
lines, divert the attention from their huml)ler advanced \)n>\ on the nortli. Tlure 
are no places of importance near the Severn, though Hartlebury Palace, which has 
liclongcd to the See of Worcester for over a thousand years, lies about a h-ague 
away f»n the east. 

Worcester has no sjiecial charm in jKunt of situatictn, though the river itself 
and the distant liills are always an attraction, but some of its streets are quaint, 
and its cathcdnd is grand, 'i'lic site, cfiniparatively level, Imt raised well above the 
river, early attracted settlers, and it is believed to have been iiilialiiled before (lie 
days of the iiomans. It flgures from time to time in oin- history, but its most 
stirrin"- da\s were in the ( 'ivil War. when it took tlie king's side, was twice 

The Severn ] 



besieged, twice compelled to surrender, and twice suffered severely for its 
" malignity."' But even the king's death did not bring peace to Worcester, for 
it Avas occupied by the younger Charles, and the decisive battle which crushed the 
hopes of the Cavaliers was fought in its very streets. Since the Restoration it has 


been undisturbed, and has prospered, especially since it added the manufacture of 
porcelain to that of gloves, for which it has long been famed, the comj)ounding 
of sauce to the potting of lampreys, and took to making bricks and )et more 
strongly scented chemicals. 

The cathedral overlooks the Severn, its precincts being almost bounded by the 
river-bank. It is a noble pile, the tall central tower being a conspicuous object 
for many a mile away in the valley, though it has been, perhaps, overmuch 
restored. Parts, however, of the fabric had become so decayed that it was thought 
necessary to re-build them. A crypt belongs to a building erected soon after the 
Norman Conquest, but the greater part of the present structure is Early English, 
and very beautiful work of its kind, l)eing begun about l'22o. The nave, however, 
is of later date, with the exception of one or two incorporated fragments of the 
preceding cathedi-al. Some of the monuments also are interesting. Though King 


John loved not cliurc-lics. ho lie? in the middle of the ehoir, where his effigy 
remains, the earliest one of a royal personage in I^ngland : a iKnmtifnl clKintrv 
chapel eonnneniorates I'rince Arthur, the elder brotlier of llciuy Vlll.. and no 
visitor is likelv to forget the mysterious gravestone witli its single and sorrowful 
inscription, '■ J//><vv/w/«."' Cloisters, ehapterdiouse, and otlur ])ortions of the eon- 
ventual buildings still rcuiain. tliough the line old Gnesten Hall was destroyed not 
man^• years ago. The town also retains some fairly inteiesting houses, tlujugh 
neither these nor the twelve parish churches are likely to divert the visitors' 
attention from the cathedral. 

l?elow Worcester the Teme comes into the Severn from the west. Few rivers 
of its size pass through more charming or more interesting scenery. It collects 
a group of streams that have risen among the great hill-masses on the edges of 
Kadnor and ^lontgomerv. and in the southern part of Sln'ojisliire. They luive 
Howed l)y craggy slopes and wild moorland. li\" lonelv fai-ins and (piiet villages, 
1)V ancestral oaks and ancient halls, l)y ruined forts and many a relic of primaval 
folk. But on these we must not linger: a glance at Ludlow nuist suffice. It is 
one of the most attractive towns in England — church and castle crown a liill 
hetwcen the Teme and the ("orve, and from it the streets run down the slope. 
In olden time Ludlow was a place of great importance, for the castl(> was tlie 
chief of thirtv-fwo that guarded the Welsh ^larches, and here the Lords Presi- 
dents of Wales held their courts. Even after this state hail ]iassed away, the town 
was a centre of count\' societv. The castle, a picturesipie ruin, ci'owus the head- 
land, the iinier court occujtying its north-western angle, and tlu> main 1)loi-k of 
liuildings overlooks a wooded cliff. These are of various dates, from Xorman to 
Tudor; the renuirkahle being a curious little circular cliaiiel of Late Xorman 
w<irk, which now stands alone, its small chancel having disappeared. The castle 
witnessed .sharp fighting more than once in the Border Wars, and finally surrendered to 
the troops of the Parliament. Here died Arthur, Prince of Wales, .son of Henry VII. ; 
here also Milt(»n wrote "The Ma.sque of Comus " and Butler part of '' lliulibras." 
'I'he church — a g-rand building in the Perpendicular style, on a connmnulinL;- site — 
is justly di'signated one <if the noblest parish churches in England. There are 
.several gntod .specimens of tind)er-work among the older ; the iiio>t stiiking, 
perhaps, being- the Peader's House in 'he churchyard, and the l-'ealliias inn. 'i'lie 
gran<l «)ld trees in (Jakley Park, the ('lee Hills. Stokesay ('astle. Tenliury ( 'hurcli, 
and St. MicluuTs College, are but a few <d' the manv attractions of the surrounding 

For some fourteen nnles lielow Worcester the Severn tlows through its wi(h' 
:incl pleasant valley without pa.ssing near anv ]»lace of special interest, mdess it be 
Kem.sev, with its fine church standing within the enclosure of a liouum cauip, or 
rpton, which makes nnnh vinegar and enjoys, besides, con.siderable trallic up and 
down the river; for its bridge, in place of a central arch, has a plati'orui which 
cun be raised to let vessels ])ass. Put the foi'eground sceuery, fertile and w led. 



[The Seteun. 

is often very pretty : the si-arp bouudin<r the limestone uplands of the Cotswolds 
is plea:>ant to see. and the range of the Malverns is always beautiful. Passing thus 
through a fertile land, we come to Tewkesbury, with its abbey church, less magniti- 
cent but hardly less interesting than the Cathedral of Worcester, and its black- 
timbered houses not far behind those of f?hrowsbur\-. liut as this town beloucs 
to the Avon even more tlian to the Severn, it shall be described in connection 
with the former river. 


TliL ^LVEl;> Af T£WK.E&BLKY, 


'.•koto: E. H. Siiekjkt, Kuy 






The Watershed of Central England — Xaseby — Rugby — The Swift — Lutterworth and Wiclif — Stoneleigh Ahbey and Kenil- 
■worth Clastle — Guy's Clitf — The Leam — Warwick and its Castle — Stratford-on-Avon and its Shakespeare Associations 
— Evesham — Pershore — Tewkesbury. 

rPHE Avon is a typical river of tlie Kiifjlish lowlands, and it is surpassed by few 
-L in the quiet beauty of its scenery or in the places of interest on its banks. 
It rises in the northern part of Northamptonshire, on an elevated plateau, the 
highest spot on which is nearly 700 feet above sea-level. This forms the Avatcr- 
shed of Central England, for on it also the Welland and the Nen begin their 
courses to the Wash. But it is not only the source of an historic stream, it 
is also the scene of an historic event. Almost on the highest groimd is Naseby 
Church, and to the north of that, quite in the corner of the county, is the fatal 
"field" where the forces of Charles and of Cromwell met in a death-grip and 
the King's cause was hopelessly lost. It was more than a defeat, it was an 
utter rout. Henceforth Charles was " like a hunted partridge, flitting from one 
castle to another." 



[The Upi-er Avon-. 

From this ui)lan(i country — plea.santly varied by cornfield, pasture, and copses 
— the Avon makes its way to the northern marein of the county, and then, 
working round to the south-west, forms for a wliih- tlio boundarv between it 
and Leicestershire. Entering Warwickshire, the Avon j)asses near Kusbv. All 
know tlie great railway junction, innnortalised bv Cliarles Dickons, and the 
famous school, with its memories of old L;iurence .Sheriffe the founder, and l)i'. 
Arnold, its great headmaster. Then the river is joined by tlio tributary Swift, 
which, Avliile liardly more tlian a brook, has rippled bv the little town of 
Lutterworth. There, higher up the slope, is the chm'ch where AViclif ministertul, 
the pulpit from which he jjreached. There, sjianning the stream, is a little 

bridge, the successor of 
that from which the ashes, 
after his bones had been 
dug np and burnt by order 
of the Council of Con- 
stance, were flung into the 
water. So the Swift bore 
tlieni to the Avon, and 
tlie Avon to tlio Severn, 
and that to tlie sea, to be 
dispersed abroad into all 
lands — " which things are 
an allegory."' 

The Avon flows on 
through the pretty, restful 
scen(M-y of Warwickshire, 
wliich has been rendered 
classic by the authoress of 
"Adam Bede," twisting in 
gi'eat curves gradually more and more to the south. It leaves, some thi'ec> miles 
awav from its right bank, the .spires and ancient mansions of Coventry — once 
noted for its ribbons, now in making cycles ; it sweejjs round Stonehugh 
Abbey, with its Ijeautiful park and fine old oaks, where a comparatively nuxlern 
mansion has rejjlaced a Cistercian monastery. On the opposite side, half a 
league away, are the ruins of K(Miilworth Castle, with their memories of Leicester 
and Queen Klizabeth. It glides beneath Guy's Cliff, wlu^re i]\c famous Larl, 
the slayei- of the I >un Cow, after his return from the Holy Laml, dwclr in a 
cave a.s a hermit, unrecognised, till the hour of his death, by his own wife, 
though she daily gave him alms. A little further, and a short distance away on 
the left, on the tributary Learn, is the modern town of Leamington, which 
began a career of jn'o.sperity just a century ago on llie discovery <)f sundry 
mineral springs. Then tlie Avon sweejis l)y the foot of the hill on which 

THE IlTRIi nu 

110 RIVERS OF GREAT BRITAIX. [t.,k r.r™ Aton. 

stands the olil town of Warwick. 'V\\o sito is an ideal one— a liill for a 
fortress, a river fi>r a moat — and lias tlius been oeeupicMl I'roni a distant antiipiity. 
Briton, Konian, 8axon — all are said to have held in turn the settlement, till the 
Xonnan came and huilt a castle. The town i-etains two of its gates and 
several old timbered houses, one of which, tlie Leicester IIos])ital, fomided in 
1")71. is perhaps the finest in the ^Midlands; and on the top of tlie liill, set so 
that " it cannot be hid,'' is the great chmrh of St. .Mary. It is in the Per- 
})endicular stvle, more or less, for the tower and navi' Mere i-ebiiilt after a great 
lire in 1(')94. the choir escaping with little injiny. Two iine tond)s of the Earls 
of "Warwick ari> in this part, but the glory of the church is the Hcauchanip 
Chapel, with its far-famed altar-tonilj and effigy of llichard Heauchanip, the 
founder. He died in 14.')i>: and near him lie the Karl of Leicester, Queen Eliza- 
beth's favourite, and other nunnl)ers of the house of Dudley. 

Warwick Ca.stle is on(> of the most jncturesquely situated mansions in England. 
It stands on a rocky headland, which descends almost precipitousl}' to the Avon. 
One of our illustrations (p. Ill) may give some notion of the beauty of the view over 
the rich river-plain; the other (p. 109) indicates the aspect of the castle itself. 
A mediaeval fortress has been gradually transformed into a modern mansion, yet 
it retains an air of antiquity and not a little of the original structm-e. It incor- 
porates portions of almost all dates, from the Norman Conquest to the i)resent 
dav. The oldest part is the loft}' tower, called Ca?sar's tower, which nuist have 
lieen erected not many years after the victory at Hastings. The residential part 
mostly belongs to the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries, though alterations and 
additions have been made. es])ecially during the restoration, which was rendered 
necessary bv a hniientable fire in I<S71. We must leave it to the guide-books 
to describe the j)ictures, antiquities, and curiosities which tlu^ castle contains — 
relics of the Civil War, when it Avas in vain besieged l)y the king's forces, 
the sword and p(;rridge-pot of the legendary (niy, and the famous Warwick 
Vase, duji" uj) near Tivoli at Hadrian's Villa. P)ut the view fi-oni t]u> windows 
is so beautiful that the visitoi- will often lind a difficulty in looking at pictures 
on the walls: he will l)e well rewarded if afterwards he stroll down towards 
the old mill by the riverside'. 

After leaving Warwick the Avon kee]is winding towards the south-western 
boundary of the count\- lill. before reaching this, it arrives a1 anotlier and yet 
more noted town. Stral ford-on- Avon is a household word wliercvei' the JJiglish 
tongue is .sjMjken. No Aniei-ican thiidss his visit to the country of liis ancestors is 
cf)in])let(' till he has made a pil^rinia^c to ihc birtliplace and llic iiiave of Shake- 
speare — nay, even our distant kinsmen in (icnnany aic not seldom (hawn lliilher 
by tli(; sanii^ magnetic force. 'i"he town, till the days of railways, was a cpiielly 
prosjierous, old-fa.-^hioned ])lace, in harnionx with the scenery of the neighbourhood. 
This is thoroughly charactcri.stic of the !\Iiillands. and exhiltits one of their most 
attractive types. "The Avon, a fairl\- lii'oad briidit stream, sweejjs silently along 

The I'ri'nit Avon".] 



on Its way to the Severn, through level meadows, where the grass grows green and 
deep. The higher ground on either side rolls gently down, descending sometimes 
to the margin of the stream, but elsewhere parted from it by broad stretches of 
level valley. The slopes are dotted with corntields, and varied by clumps of trees 
and lines of hedgerow timber. It is a peaceful, unexciting land, where hurry would 
seem out of place." * 
The little house where 
Shakespeare was born — in 
1564, on the 2.3rd of 
Ajnil, as they sa}' — after 
many vicissitudes has been 
saved to the nation, and 
perhaps a little over- 
restored. It is a parcel- 
timbered dwelling without 
enrichment — one of those 
common in the ^Midlands 
— such as would be in- 
habited by an ordinary 
l)urgess of a country town. 
When Shakespeare re- 
turned, a prosperous man, 
to his birthplace, he lived 
in a much better house 
near the church, which he 
pm'chased in 1597. This, 
however, was pulled down 
l)y an ill-tempered clerical 
vandal in the middle of 
the last century. Shot- 
tery, where we can still 
see the cottage of Anne 
Hathaway, whom Shake- 
speare loved not wisely 
but too well, is a mile 
away ; and about four 
times that distance is the 
picturesque old brick and 

stone mansion of Charlecote, with its beautiful park. Here dwelt Sir Thomas Lucy, 
with whose deer the youth made too free, and on account of whose anger he ran 
away to Loudon. The dramatist, it is said, took his revenge on the knight in the 

* •• Our Own Country," Vol. V., p. IbS. 



The Upper Atox.] 



IJortrait of Justice Shallow, but wlien he looked l)ack on the ultimate results of his 
flight from Stratford he might have justly said, "All's well that ends well!" 

In tlie month of his birth, 1(310, Stratford Church n^-eived the body of 
Wdham Shakespeare. ■' Cluu-ch and churchyard are worthy of being connected 
with so great a memory. The former is a fine cruciform structure, crowned with 
a central spire: the latter a spacious tract, planted with aged trees. An avenue of 

sn.VKESrEAItE's HOI'SE [p. 111). 

limes leads up to the churdi poi-cli, between which, perhaps, the poet often ])asse(l 
to worship, and whose quivering shadows may one sad day have fallen upon his 
coffin. But there is a part of the God's acre where, perhaps, more tluni anv other, 
we may think of him, for it is one which can hardlv have failed to temijt liim to 
musing. The Avon bounds the churchyard, and by its brink is a terraced walk 
beneath a row of fine old elms. On the one hand, througli the gre{>n screens of 
summer foliage, or through the chequered lattice-work of winter Ijoni^hs, we sec the 
grey stones of the church — here the tracery of a window, there a weather-beat(Mi 
pinnacle — then, thnmgh some wider gaj). tlie spir(> itself. ( )n tlie other liaiid, 
beneath the terrace wall, the Avon slowly and silently glides along l)v bridiic and 
town, l)y water-meadows, bright with cel:mdiiH> in spring and thick with lush "rass 

in J I 

»"Our Own Country."' Vnl. V. p. ISG. 

114 lUVEIiS OF on EAT JIRTTAIX. [The I'wt.u Avon-. 

The cliiircli, oiico c-()llc<riati'. is an umisuallv fine ono, |i;ntb- ]",ail\ Kniilisli, 
partly Dicnratod. but mostly Pi'ipondic-ular in style. To tlic last hclonii^s tlii' 
fliancel, where Shakespeare is Imried, with his wife. (lau<,'-liter, and other relations. 
His monument, with the bust, is on the north -wall, and his <:rav(- with the (juaint 
insi-ription is near at haiul. both tdo well known In need deserijjtion ; but thou<;h 
this one "rreat memory pervades the ])lace, almost to the exclusion of all beside, 
then' are other tondis of interest, and the church of itself is well worth a vi.sit. 

About a leaj^ue below Stratford, the Avon becomes a county boundary, separa- 
tinjr Warwickshire from the iu)rth of Gloucestershire. Then it returns to the former 
county, and lastly enters Worcestershire. Its valley becomes more and more definiteh" 
marked as the river cuts its way through the upland, which forms the eastern limit of 
the broad Vale of Severn. ( »n a ])ciiiiisula of Worcestershire nuule by a southward 
sweep of the stream, near tlie Ijoundary of the two other counties, stands an historic 
town. I-ivesham. whidi i:ives its name to the lieautiful vale. A ruined archwav and 
a n((ble tower are the sole relics of it.s once famous abbey. 'I'his was fumnlcil carh- 
in the eighth century, (.n a spot where the}- .said both a swineherd and a bi>hop 
had .seen a vision of the \'iri:in. Ultimately it Avas attached ti; the lienedictine 
order, becmne one of the must wealthy monasteries, with one of the grand( st 
churches in the \\'est. It was exceptionally rich in lelics and ornaments. The shrine 
of till- founder was a superb specimen of the gold.smith's work; the forms of worship 
Avere mnisually sumjituous. Ibit at the crash came, and the spoiler's hand fell 
witli cNceptioiial weii:lit on tlie alibey of l^veshani. "The estates were confiscated 
and parcelled ()ut, and tlie aljlie}- was;antled and given away to Sir Philip 
Iloby, a gentlenuni of Worcestershire, who .shortly afterwards seems to have leased 
out the magnificent buildings of abbey and monastery as a (puurv for stone, and 
thus it continued to be for many a day." So now " it can hardly be called a 
ruin'':* but the beautiful tower still remains, wliidi stood at tlie entrance of the 
cemetery, and was meant for clock and bells. This was only completed just Ijefore 
the surrender of the abbey. Near it are two clnn-ches, each of fair size, each with its 
own steeple. chaiK'ls fouiKh'il by tlie monks for the use of tlie townsfolk. Tii(> three, 
as shown in our illu.stratinn p. 117), f,,rm a very striking grouj). 

lint this fpiiet town in a jieaceful valley was once disturlu'd 1)\ tlie nois(> of 
l»attle, and ii crisis in hi.story. Princi' I'.dwanl, son of Ilein\ ill., 
had contriveil by masterly general.sliip to prevent the jum-tioii ol the armies of 
Simon lie .Montfort and his .son. The former was encamped at l',\(>liam. 'I'he 
Prince's army blocked his one outlet by land; a detachment of ii had cut oil' a 
retreat liy the bridges over the river. The fight from tlie lirst was liopeli-s ; 
he Montfort"s irr.ops were inferior: " 'l'h( WeMi lied at the lirst oiisi't like sheep, 
and were cut ruthlessly down in tin' (•ornlieM> .md Liardeiis where they had son-lit 
refui.^e. The little group of knights around Slmoii foULilit desperatelv, falllic^ one 
by one till the flail was left alone. So terrilile were his s\\ ord-sln kes that lie had 

• lh:iU .S|H-iKr ill ••C,i|li,.irHln, .\1.1h\> and ( liurrlns,"' p. 771. 

The rrpER atox.] EVESHAM AXD PEESHORE. 115 

all but gained the hill-top when a lance-thrust l)rouo-]it his horse to the groimd ; 
but Siinon still rejected the summons to yield, till a l)low from behind felled him, 
mortally "wounded, to the ground. Then Avitli a last cry of ' It is God's grace,' t]\v 
soul of the great patriot passed away." * 

The beauty and riclniess of the Vale of Eyesham are proverbial; it is a land of 
corn and orchards, and it widens out as the Ay on winds on in roundhig the 
northern extremity of the Cotswolds. After a time the stream makes a great un- 
dulating sweep to the northward, as if to ayoid the outlying mass of Dundry ITill, 
and brings us to another country town and another fragment of a grand church 
of olden time. Pershore was founded in the tenth century, as was Evesham, and only 
a few years afterwards; it too passed under the rule of the Benedictines, and was 
richly endowed by a pious Saxon noble, not only witli lands, but also with relics. 
Pershore, however, Avas less uniformly prosperous than Evesham. Edward the 
Confessor gave of its lands to his new abbey at Westminster. William the Conqueror 
took of them for himself or his courtiers. For all that, money was found for re- 
building, ai)d for rearing a glorious structure, resembling those at Gloucester and 
Tewkesbury, in the latter part of the eleventh century. The choir was again re-built 
in the thirteenth ; the central tower dates from the middle of the fourteenth. The 
Reformation here, as clsewhei'o, was a time of plunder and destruction — nave, ladv- 
chapel, and monastic buildings were pulled down; the people of Per.shore, to their honour, 
purchased the rest of the church, and thus saved it from anniliilation. The north 
transept fell clown at a later date ; but what is left has been carefully repaired 
and restored, and this fragment has been justly called one of the noblest specimens 
of Norman and Early p]nglish work that our country possesses. 

Though the foreground scenery, as the two valleys merge, becomes less striking, 
the more distant views are always attractive ; for the scarp bounding the limestone 
uplands of the Cotswolds forms a pleasant feature, and the range of the Malverns 
is beautiful in its outliiu'. At last, just Ijcfore its confluence Avith the Severn, the 
Avon brings us to another interesting town — Tewkesbury, on tlie left bank of the latter 
river, and within half a mile of the former one. TewkesburA' has an al)bcy church, not 
so magnificent, but hardly less interesting than that of Worcester, Avhile it is not less 
rich than Shrewsbury in black-timbered houses. Here the course of the Severn is 
interrupted by a weir and a lock, constructed in order to make the river navigable 
to Worcester for vessels of larger toimnge, and is crossed by a fine bridge of iron. 
It receives the Avon, In' tlio side of which the town is built, and this stream is 
spanned by another and ancient bridge of stone. The streets, with their old 
timbered houses, are a delight to the antiquary : they usually have bay windows 
carried the whole height of the front, the " Wheatsheaf Inn" being one of the 
best specimens. The abbey, however, is the glor}- of the town, and in ancient days, 
before Tewkesbury mustard became a proverb, made its name known all over 
England. It claims as its founder two kings of Mercia, rather more than eleven 

* Green, '■ Short History of the English People," ch. iii. 


EIVKIiF! or Gh'EAT nniTATX. 

•"The fi'PER AvoK. 

aud a half centuries ap-t). ami in any case appears to carrv back its historv almost 
to this time. But the ureater part of tlie present church was erected early in the 
twelfth centurv, thciu<_di the choir was re-constructed about two centuries afterwards. 

J**r<o; Uarvn llirlon, llit,M. 

(/.. lU. 

Vet this, tliou;rli ^n'aceful Decorated work in the upp(M- part, maintains the nuissivo 
Nonnan piers below, the condjination producinji: a rather unusual effect. Hut not 
oidy so, the clmir terminates iu an apse, a feature not \er\ counnon in our Knirlish 
churcheH, and certainly not the least anion','- the attractiims of Tewkcsliurv. Central 
tower, ti-ansept. and nave arc mainly Nornum ; and the west end is peculiar, for 
it terminates in a liuirc urch, which occupies almost the whole of the facade, and 
in whiih a ^ireat I'n [leiKJiciiIar win. low has been inserted. It has a curiously 

The Upper Avox.] 



incomjilete look, so, possibly, the architect contemplated the addition of a facade 
with towers. The church also is uniisiialh' ricli in chantries and ancient uionu- 
nients, secular and ecclesiastical. 

Tewkesbury, too, has a place in English history, for on the meadows south of 
the abbey was fought the last battle between the houses of Lancaster and York, 
and the Red Rose was tranq^led in the mire. Jlargarct of Anjou was taken 
prisoner; her only son, Edward, was stabbed by the Yorkists — it is said after the 
Duke of York had struck him in the face with his gauntlet ; and a large number 
of the chief men on the losing side were killed or were executed after the battle. 
Some of them fled to the abbey for sanctuary. Edward and his soldiers came in hot 



[Tbf Ti'Pfr Atox. 

pursuit, but a priest, bcaiiiiir tlie Host, coiifioutod thoiu on tlic tlnesliold, nor would 
he move until the victor jtroniised to spare the lives of the fuuitivcs. But on the 
third day afterwards a troop i>f soldiers hmki' into the building, dragged out the 
refugees, and j)roniptlv struck off their heads. Kevenge proved stronger than religion I 
The young prince lies in a nameless grave beneath the central tower of the 
abbey; and other illustrious victims of the battle were buried within its walls. The 
building it.self has h;id more than one narrow esca[)e from destruction : it was seriously 


injuri'd bv a lire in liic larer part of the twclftli ccnturv : at the sup]»res>i(in of tlie 
monasterie.s it was placed on tlie list of '' superHiious " liuiidings and doonu'd to be 
)iu]h'd down by the greedy vandals of that age. Ibit the good folk of l^ewkesburv 
l)ought it for themselves, and thus preserved one <!!' llie liiiest and most interesting 
ecclesiastical buildings in tlie West ("ountrv. Tliey have well earne(l the gratitude 
of po.sterity. The mona.stic buildings, liowever, to ;i great extent have disiippeared. 
The cloisters, which seem to hav(» reseml)led those at (Jloucester. are unfortunately 
gone, hut the monks' infirmary, with somi- adjacent buihlings. has been incorjiorated 
into a mansion cidhil Abl>e\- Ibni^e, ami llie principal gateway still remains. Tewkes- 
bury, in short, is to tlie lover nf architecture far the most interesting town of its 
HJze in the valley of the Severn. 






^^^^^^■'■— A 

"^ -flsSzisS^ ^^ 

— ■- -^^^^tj^^^trntj.. 





Deerhurst — Gloucester — The " Bore " — Jlay Hill— Jlinsterworth — AVestbiiry-onSe-vern— Xewnlmm — Berkeley Castle — Lydney — 
Sliarpness — The Severn Tunnel — The Estuary — A Vanished Hiver. 

T)ELOW Tcwkcsbuiy several })lea.saiit places, couutiy-liouses, i)arks and (juiet 
-L' villages are situated on the lowland, or on the gciitie undulations whicli 
diversify the width of the vallev, but few are of special interest, except the little 
church of, standing near the waterside, wliicli was l)uilt, as an inscription 
now preserved at (Jxford has recorded, in the year lOOG. The greater part of the 
comparatively loftv toAver, with some portions of the body of the church, behjngs to 
this age ; but the latter to a considerable extent has been rebuilt at A^arious dates, 
and its plan altered. There Avas a priory of earlier foundation, but of this nothing 
of interest remains. 

But for some miles a great toAver has been rising more and more distinctly 
aboA'B the Avater-meadoAvs, as did that of Worcester on the higher reaches of 
the Severn. It is another cathedral, on a scale yet grander than the former one, 
the centre of the old city of Gloucester, Avhich for not a few years has been rapidly 
increasing ; but all al)out the precincts and in tlie original streets are many pic- 
turesque renniants of the last and preceding centuries, while its churches surpass 
those of Worcester. 

Gloucester, as it guards the SeA-ern, and is one of the natural approaches to 
Wales, A'ery early became a j)lace of mark. An important station for the lionian 
troops, it Avas in the days of Bede a very notable town, n(jt only in the jMercian 
kingdom, but also in all Britain. At Gloucester the tirst of its Christian kings 
founded a monasterA* about eightA' years after the landing of Augustine ; and Avhen the 
Dane began to harry England the toAvn had not seldom to fight and sometimes to 



[The SEVEBjr. 

suffer. Saxon and the earlier Xnrman kinirs often visited it. Proliably in few 
catliedrals out of London — except, perliap.s, Winchester — were ntyn] worshippers sg 
frequent. Henry III., a Ijoy of ten, was crowned here, and liatl a particular affection 
for the town. Hither the murdered P^dward H. was hrouiiht for hurial; Parliaments 
were held in the city; and most of the kiniis np to tlie sixteenth century paid it at one visit. Hut when the <rreat Civil War lir;)ke out, (Jlouccster took the side 
of the Parliament. So, presently, the luixal troops and ( "liarlcs himself appeared 
before its walls. For aljout four weeks it was closclv iiiv(>sted, and its defiMiders 
were in sore straits, till Essex raised the sieuc As a penalty the walls were 
destroyed after the llestoration. That did no real liariii : llie citv was (piietly 
prosperous, till it was quickened to a more active life liv liccominL;- a railway 
junction, when the ''break of iriut^ie'' provided many a subject for Fitiic/i. 

The cathedral stands well within the old citv, a yood (piarti'r of a mile from the 
Severn. One rose on tliis site before tlie XoruKin ('(iii(|U('st, Imt that was destroyed 
by fire — the crypt beni'ath the choir beiny the oiilv relic — and another Ijiiildin^ was 
erected in the last dozen years of the eleventh (•(■ntin\. Xutwitlistandini;' 'j:v<-a\ and 
conspicuous alterations, the .shell of this structure is comparativc]\- intact. 'J'lic nave 
lia.s undergone the least change, and is a very iine example of the earlier work in 
that style. It resembles Tewkesl)urv in 
the increased height of the piers and con- 
sequent dwarfing of the triforium, thus 
differing irom. and not inijjroving on, 
the great Xornian cathedrals of Kastern 
England: the choir is also of tli(> same 
age, though the older work is often 
most concealed beneath a veil of 1 
pendicular tracery ; and the east wind 





is a 


thc rast- 


the y(>ars 

1.'!::: and i:;::. but the r.H,r ,,f 

the na\e Jiad been already replaced 

The Severn- ] 



nearly a century earlier than the former dale. The latest conspicuous chanjres 
in the cathedral were the additions of the grand Lady Chapel and of the central 
tower. The furnier was grafted on to its little Norman predecessor in the last 

Photo: II. n: ll'alson, Gloucesl, 


forty years of the fifteenth century, and its great Perpendicular east window 
still preserves the stained glass with which it was filled on tno completion of the 
structure. The east window of the choW also contains the original glass, which 
is a yet liner specimen of the art, and is older by nearly a hundred and fifty years. 
The central tower was begun at the same time, but was not completed till some 



[The Severx. 

tliirtv years later. It has few rivals in Britain; some prefm- in tlic same 
])<)siti<)ii at Lincoln, (others Hell Harry Tower at Canterbury. ( ilniicistci-. at any 
rate, is tlie ornate, even if it be not the most beautiful. 

TIm- old stained tlie e.xquisite tracery of its windows, walls and roof, ^ive 
exeeittional richness to the eastern lialf of the cathedral, 1)ut in addition to this, 
it ]) .several i-cniarkable niomnnents. The Robert Courthose, eldest 
son of the ( 'omiueror, who died a prisoner at Cardiff ( 'astle, was buried In-fore the 
bi^di ahar. His toml) jnid otliirx-, contrarN- to the usual custom, are of wood (Irish 
oak), but whether thev are conten\poraneous is uncertain. 'I he yet more 
I'Mward II. was brouirlit from Berkeley Castle to lie under tlie central arch on the 
n<»rth side of the clioii-. There his son and successor raised a iiHinorinl. wliii li is 
not .surpa.s.scd by any in Kn;;land. l)espi.sed in life, this Mdward was hnnuur(<i in 
dealli — such is the irony of fate. A constant stream of pilL:riiiis tl<i(k('(l lo his 
f^rave as t<< that of an uncanonised .saint, and the uiaiiiiiticent reconstr;'.ction ol the 
clioir wa.s the fruit of their olferiiiLrs. 

Telford sj)anned the Sevirii with an arch of stone l-'id b'ct in diameter, and 
!»elow (Ijonce.ster tlie railway runs on a viaduct across the meadows, .Mney Island, 
ami tin- river. The vaHev now is becomin^r very wide, and .seems to hint that before 
hiU<X tlie Severn will bioadeii into an estuai\. The river lie^iins to swim:' in huj;-e 
<-urves throndi the level meadows. Tiie tidal wave, called "tlie bore,"" .sometiuies 

The Severn.] THE ESTUAEY. 123 

attains a c(Hi.sidera])le height, and is one of its "wonders." The Malvern Hills have 
receded into the background, and their place is taken by May Hill, famous anion<i- 
geologists; on the opposite side tlie scarp of the C'otswolds continues, thougli Avith 
a rather more broken outline ; l)ut outlying hills come nearer to the city. 

The Severn ebljs and flows by Minsterworth, where Gwillim is buried, whcsc 
heraldry was beloved by countiy scpiires. The main high road, when possible, 
keeps away from the stream, for the land lies low and is liabli' to floods. West- 
bury-on-Severn is the first place of mark — a small town witli a rather larc-e 
church noted for having a separate steeple, the sj)ire of which is of wood. 
The Severn here has pressed against higher gTound and has carved it into a low 
cliff, Avhich affords sections well known to every geologist; and in the nei"-li- 
bourhood iron ore is worked, as it has been for numy a centur}'. Xe\Anliam comes 
next, a market-town, and an outlet for the important mining district of the Forest 
of Dean, Avhich lies a few miles away to the west. It still preserves a sword of 
state given to it by King John, and there is some old Xorman work in its church. 

The Severn is now changing from a river to an estuary. No places of im- 
portance lie near the riverside, and its scenery is becoming marshv and monotonous ; 
but some distance away to the cast is Berkeley, an old town with an old castle, 
memorable for the murder of the hapless I-]dward ; and on the other side is L}dney, 
a quaint little town with a small inland harbour, a nuu'ket cross, and a fine old 
church. In the adjacent })ark, on a kind of elevated terrace overlooking the valley, 
are the remains of a grou[) of Roman villas, from wliich many coins, pieces of 
pottery, and other relics have been unearthed. 

At Sharpness, above Lydney, a railway crosses the Severn liy ;^, long l>rido-e 
of twenty-eight arches, a magnificent work ; but below it ferry b( lats v\'ere the onl}' 
comnumication from shore to shore till in 188G the completion of the Severn 
Tunnel linked Bristol and the West more closelv to the eastern part of ScnUli Y\'ales. 
.Vt this point the river is more than two and a quarter miles across ; but the 
tunnel itself is about double that length. This, the greatest work of its kind in 
Britain, was comj^leted by the late Sir John Hawkshaw. 

The banks become yet farther apart, the water is salt, the tide ebbs and flows, 
as in the sea. The estuary, indeed, continues for many a mile, still retaining the 
form of a river- valley. Very probably there was a time when a Severn flowed 
along a broad vallev', where now the Bristol Channel parts England from South 
Wales, to join another stream Avhich had descended over land, now sunk beneath 
the Irish Sea, and the two rivers discharged their united waters into a more distant 
Atlantic Ocean ; but that was very long ago, so that our task is now conqileted. 
We have followed the Severn from its source to its ending — till our brook has 
become a river, and our river has become a sea. T. G. Bonney. 


A llENK 1)1 Hit WYE. 


"Thp Kdforiniis Hill fi( Plinlimnion " — Thp Sli-onshold of Owen Glcndower — Llanuurii^— Rhayader Owy — Llvn-Gwyii — 
The ELin. the Ithon, and the Yrfon— Llandrindod— Biiilth— Aboredw and the Last Priiice of Waks— Hjiy— Cliffoixl 
C;i>lle and the Fair linsnmond — Hereford — The Lug — "The Wonder" — Ross and John Kyrle— (fi)odrioh Castle- 
Coldwell lUieks— Sj-mond's Vat-llonmoiith— 'I'ho Slonnow, the Dorc, and the Uonddii— Wordswortli's Great Ode- 
Tintem Ahbey — The WyndoUff— Chepstow — The Lower Reaches. 

i^IKI-] many anntlicr tliiiio- of Ijeauty. tlit^ Wvi: is Ixtni amidst 
suiTOundinfrs dreary and dismal. Plinlimmoii. \hc niouarcli 
(if tlio vast waste of liills tliat forms tin- soutlicni i)orti()n 
of the ( 'ambviaii system, has tliree lieads. liiit no one can point 
tlic finger of scorn at liim on that account, for great are liis 
cares as lie stands there in that region of and bog, the 
fatiicr of five rivers. His cliicf jicail. towering 1o the skv, 
gatliers from the heavy clouds as tliey drift the land tlie 
raindrops and the mist, and these, trickling down his shoulders, are 
gathered into five different courses, and. Iiuit\ ing on their \va\-. foiin the live rivers — 
the Severn, the Wye. the Kheidol, which flows to Al^erystwyth, and the ! Iiilas and the 
Llyffnaiit, which Ijy dilferent courses )io\v to tlie l)ove\-. .Murcovcr. the ruL;ged, 
austere nioinitain has long been sjioken lightly of; for a shepherd — it would lu ver do to 
call him an huniltle shepherd — who. in the early ])avt of the present centuiN. had the 
ri^dit to sell ale and small lieer in his cottage up amongst the mountain-tops, had 
a hoaril hung out witli this modest sentence, whirh, to he sure, .soon hecaiiu- cla.ssic, 
jiainted upon it: "The notorious hill of I'linlimmon is on, and it will 
be .shown with pleasure to any gentleman travellers who wishes to .see it." So, 
wliat with the clouds ami mists resting tijxm his head, the laige familv of rivers he 

The Wte ] 



has to food, and the slightino- lanpuao-o that is held towards him, the '' notorious 
liill of Plinhmmou " is bakl and sad and sodden. Unless, therefore, the traveller 
is fond of dreariness and dankness, he will scarcely iind this a profitable journey 
to make— this climb to the very source of the W^•o. 

Legend, however, weaves a charm over many an else drearA' waste, and uj) 
amtmgst the scramble of hills of which Plinlinnnon is monarch, legend and 
history unapocryphal combine to fill the home of mists with interest for all avIio 

Plwlos: II iiiUijn. 


love a stirring tale. Here, at the 
very source of the Wyo, Owain 
Glyndwr — the Owen Glendower of 
Shakespeare's Kimj Ilci/r// JV. — 
who could call spirits from the 
vasty deep, had his stronghold, 

nd gathered around him his vicious little band of followers: — 

" Three times hath Henry Lolingbroke made liead 
Against my power ; thrice from the Ijanks of Wye 
And sandy-bottomed Severn have I sent him 
Bootless home, and weather-beaten back." 

12r, RIVEItS OF GTiEAT Bh'TTAW. [The avvk. 

This he trutlifuUy told liis follow-cnnspivators. Pliiiliniiiiun and tlic suvnnindiiiu- 
c-duntrv is ricli in rot-ords and legends concerning this turl)ulcnt ))riiue. whoso verv 
hirth, on May OSth, l."J."4. is said to Jiavc been attended by rcniaikable premonitions 
of coniinir trouble, for it is told that on that eventful night his fathers horses wen- 
found in their stalls standing in a bath of blood that reached to their bellies, 'i'liis 
is the ])ii])nlar account, but Shakespeare's imagination created <itliei- ami farthei- 
reaching warnings to the world concerning the lier\- sj>irit tiiat liail l)eeu ushered 
upon the scene : — 

" At my nativity 

The front of Heaven was full of fiery shapes, 

Of buriiini; cressets ; and at luy birth 

The frame and hu,!;;e foundation of the eurtli 

Sliak'd like a coward. " 

From this lofty region, half earth and half .skv— for the "Wye can lav 
claim to trace its .source to the very clouds that hang thick upon Plinlimnion's luad 
— the tiny rivulet bounds down the mountain-side, and the Fates, catcliing at a 
myriad of .><till .snudler rills, braid them into the main stream, as tlie tresses of 
a maiden's hair are woven together, till united they t'urm a brook. Fur a number 
of miles the land through Avhich the Wye's cour.-;c is laid continues to be melan- 
choly in the extreme, and the torrent, like all urchins brought up amidst harsh, 
inclement surroundings, g(jes on its way brawling and turbuK-nt, ])laviuL:- leaj)fn)g 
with rocks, flinging itself over precipices, swirling in little maelstroms, and almost 
getting blown away in .sjjray; and it is not until the pretty village of Llangurig 
is reached that it comes in ])art to its .senses, and, althougli still boisterous, .shows itself 
amemdile to the influence of civili.sation. Not only iloes tlie W\-e here meet for 
the fir.><t time with civilisation, but here, too, it becomes ac(|u;iinted witli that 
which later on in its life is one of its glories, almost its crowning glory — trees. The 
head and shoulders of mighty Plinlinnnon afford no gracious foothold for these 
cliildren of fat lamls and lu.sty air, .scarcely a raising its branches in tlu' bog 
and of the mountain. ]jut up to Llangurig a few of them have straggled, 
to break the monotony of the mountainous region. Here, too, a bridge —one of 
the few works of man that sometimes add to rather tliau detract from the elfect 
of river-.'^cenery, always ])rovided that it is not a modern raiK\a\- biidge of iron 
— cr<» the young .stream ; and a churcli, the iirsl of many on tlii' banks of the 
Wye, stands near by. A .short distance below this village the .stream spreads out 
in its valh'v. and flows more gently huge boulders that have been hurled 
ilown from the sides of the mountains. 

Jietween Llangurig and the next village of any importance. Ixhayader Gwy, to 
g-ivc it its full name, although most people are content to call it by its " ( "hristian " 
name only, leaving the "(Jwy" to take cai-e of itself — between tliesc two villages llie 

Wye enters Jvadnor.shire ; and now the .scenery, although still wildh untaiiious, 

is of a more sididued de.scrijttion, tre(;s becoming more plentiful, ami the rocks. 
occasionally shaking their heads frei' from the thick covering of spongy morass, 

The Wye.] 



beginning to stand out bold and picturesque, and to take their proper place in 
the composition uf mountain-scenery. A short distance above Rhayader Gwy the 
river Marteg pours its tiny volume into the Wye, and here is one of the choicest 
liits of scenery in all the upper reaches of our stream. Nannertli Rocks, lofty crags, 
confront the river, and narrow the bed so that the combined waters can only 
squeeze through at the expense of a mighty uproar and much plunging and dashing 
and flinging of spray and foam, the brawl of the forced passage being audible for a 
great distance. After its straitened course between these rocks, the river enters an 
easier bed and flows sulkily down to Rhayader Gwy. 

This village has a situation as wonderful as any in all the kingdom. On 
every side tower the great hills, not harsh and gloomy now, but clothed with oak 
forest thick and deep. Not so many years ago there were, as the name of the village 
bears record, falls at Rhayader Gwy ; but in building the bridge that sjians the 
stream the good i)eopl(', little caring for the picturesqueness of the jjlace, renujved 
the stones and widened the channel, and so ri'duced the falls to rapids. 

Although the place is of little note now, l)cing oidy a lovely village, once upon 
a time it was of considerable importance in the country, ;ind saw stirring times. 
Among other things, it had a strong fortress of its own, erected by Rhys ap Gruffydd, 
the Prince of South Wales ; but this was so thoroughly rased to the ground by 
Llewelyn, in 1231, that not a vestige remains. At a later day a successor to this 
stronghold was built, but it, too, fell, in the stormy days of the Parliamentary War, 
and only a mound marks the spot where it stood. Near to Rhayader Gwy the 
Wye, like a mountain chief exacting tribute from his weaker neighl)ours, secures 
the overflow from a quaint lake, said to 
be the only beautiful lake in Radnorshire 
— the Llyn-Gwyn. In olden days many 
a pilgrim, full of faith in the miraculous 
powers of this little lake, made his way 
through the rugged district to bathe in 
its waters ; and there can be little 
wonder at the hope inspired in their 
breasts by the sight of Llyn-Gwyn, for 
it is such a lake as is rarely found, 
dainty, clear, cool, its high wooded 
l)anks rising nearly perpendicularly- a 
veritable fairies' ocean. With the over- 
flow from this the Wye tumbles along, 
soon to iind tributaries of nuich more 

The first of these is the Elan. 
This river receives the Claervven ; and 
near to the jtmcture of the two streams 




[Thf Wte. 

is Xantirwillt. a limisc which, in tlu^ niDmentous year 1812, was occupicMl hv the 
l)()ft Shclh'v. whih' at ('win Mhiii lived Harriet Grove. The joiirnev from 
Rhayader to ( 'wm illaii. a distance of live miles up the valK'v of llie little river, 
i.s very beautiful. Minmtains on every side, as though guardinji' the privacy 
of the delieious <rlen ; in.siMring- sights are to he seen at every turn, dtiintv views 
of the Wye and the Klan ])leasantly breaking the green of trees and urass. and 
the variegated colouis of rocks. Further up the valley is the scene cho.sen for 

riiolo: J. Oiccn, Stialown,, Norllt (Cufei. 


the illustration on tliis ])age. where the wateis of {][>-\ splash along over 
the rocks that besti'ew their course, until tiiey come to a sombre and lorliiddini: 
po<»l, which might well be bottondess. 

Next, tlie Ithon, its waters drawn fimn tlie Montgomer\sliirc liills, tlows 
into the Wye; and tlien, more consideralile by bir than any jlrecknock tributarx. 
conies the Yrfon, whose fountaindu'ad is some ten miles from l.lanwrtxd. Loni; 
time ago a cave near to the river-bank liarboured b'hvs (b'thin. an auihicious IVcc- 
booter, wlio levied contributions from all and sunib\-. including his .Alajesty the 
King himself. At the Wolfs |ja|i. a point on the Vrbai worthy of a visit, the- 
river may be .said to run on <M|nc, \\>v the rocks close in so that the water, while 
.some .'{() feet deep, is oidy a b'W inches across. This is the place where, if 
tradition is to be credited, the last Welsh wolf took nuitters into his own paws, and 
connnitfeil suicide. 'I'he niche of land buMued liy the junction o| the Vrb)n 
with the Wye i.s pointed U) as the .spot where Llewelyn, in IJ.Sj, nuule his last 

Tub Wyf.l 



stand against Edward I. and his English hosts, and was there slain and buried. 
About an equal distance from Rhavader and Builtli, up the valley of the Ithon, 
is Llandriudod, long famous for its })ure air and healing wells. As long ago as 
the seventeenth century, the waters of these wells were known to liave medicinal 

Fhoto: Hudson 


properties that made thorn of peculiar value to those sufferinu' from scrofula and 
kindred troubles. The water iiows out of the rock high up on a hillside, and guests 
at the pump-house and hotels enjoy a magnificent panoramic view of the valleys 
of the Wye, Ithon, and Yrfon. In the last century an hotel of extravagant luxury 
was erected by the side of these wells, but, proving unprofitable, it soon became a 
favourite resort of gamblers, and continued to be the scandal of the country until 
a ladv of j^ractical piety became possessed of the property, and, so that tlu're shduld 
be no doubt about her ideas on the subject of gambling, had the building torn down 
and utterly removed. That happened long ago, and now other hotels have taken 
the place of the one of evil rejHite ; and Llandriudod, having railway conmumication 
with the outside Avorld, is prospering- exceedingly. Let us add that it has not, in 
its prosperity, come to feel ashamed of its Shaky Bridge — a primitive arrangement 
of planks and stretched ropes, which will some day, it is to be feared, be displaced 
by a more "imposing" structure. 


130 RHERS OF GREAT BR FT ATX. [The avte. 

Builth, on the Wye, is a fisherman's pai-adise. Usinjr the little town as a base, 
lie has within easy reach the waters of the Wye, the Yrfon. the Edw, the Dihonw, 
and the C'hwefPru, all Avaters rich in sporting fish ; and in the seasons of the sport 
about as many artificial as natural flies skim the Avaters, for anglers come from 
far and near to a centre so celebrated. The authentic history <>f I'uilth reaches 
back to Roman times; and in later days the Danes cainc with tiii' and sword, and 
levelled the jdace with tlie <rround. The Castle of Builth was stormed and destroyed 
as often as it was rebuilt, the 2)ai'tisans of one chief after another wreakinp- their 
i-age ujxm it, and now n( (tiling but a mound marks t]K> spot where once a succession 
of strongholds stood. 

lIi.storv has no more romantic tale to tell, nor one tliat is more gencrallv known, 
than that of the ride of the Prince of Wales, Llewelyn, from Aberedw, where on 
the banks of the Wye he had a castle, towards Builth, Avhicli refused to succour 
him. There is scarce an elementary schoolboy wlio has not lu^ard of the 
ingenious Ijlacksmith who hastily nailed to the hoofs of Llewelyn's horse tlie shoes 
reversed, .so that the tracks in the snow might mislead those who were in hot 
pursuit ; and alas ! heard, too, that the blacksmith, clevei- as he was at his trade, 
was not clever enough to keep the secret, but betrayed his piince to tlie enemy, 
so tliat tlie last authentic Prince of AVales was hounded to his death. It 
is a storv destined to immortality, for it has drifted into folklore, and, like the 
curiously barljarous tale of Little Red Riding Hood, is oiooned to each generation of 
c-hildren until every Welsh child dreams at least once in its lifetime of the harried 
]»rince and the foaming steed, the new-fallen snow, and the marks of the seven- 
nailed .shoes running, as it Avere, backwards. The tale has been transplanted to 
main" C|uarters of the globe, but the Wac knoAvs that the prince fled along its 
banks from the castle to the cruel, inho.spitable town. Of the castle — Llewelyn's — 
to be sure, nothing noAV remains ; but the Aillage is delightfully situated, and 
is much re-sorted to by anglers, and not by anglers only. 

The next place of particular importance is Hay. From tlu^ riviT the .streets 
(jf this jnctuix'scpie and thriving little town rise rather too abruptly for the 
pleasuralile convenience of vehicular traffic ; but picturescpieiiess and practicability 
seldom go hand in hand, and Avliat Hay .streets lack in the latter is fully made 
up in the former virtue. To crown them rises the ivy-clad fragments of the 
film on s ca.stle. 

It is often found that the same hero ciphers through the history of a country 
or di.strict Avith the persistence of a damaged note in an organ, although usually 
Avitli a less irritating elfect. Li this (piarter of the kingdom, Avhich Avas once 
the buffer State between England and Wales, the name of ( )weii Gleiidower crops 
up (diitiiiually, and at Hay among otiier places. At the head <if his Avild men 
from the hills, he came dcjwn like an avalanche upon the castle at Hay ; 
when he retired, the pile Avas a mass of ruins, and now nothing stands of the 
ancient fort but a gateway — the very stones grey with age— and part of a tower. 

The Wye.] 



Legend, which has a pretty fancy and nimbk- brain, relates that the castle was 
built in one night by the celebrated Maud de Saint Waller}', alias Maud de Hain, 
alias Moll Walbee. "She built the Castle of Hay" (to quote Jones's "Brecknock") 

Ihirhi'oU. Har]nr,l, 


"in one niiilit, the stones for which she carried in her apron. While she was thus 
employed, a small j^ebble, of about nine feet long and one foot tliick, dropped into 
her shoe. This she did not at first regard ; but in a short time finding it trouble- 
some, she indignantly threw it over the river Wye into Llowes churchyard, in 
Radnor.shire (about three miles ofP), where it remains to this day, precisely in the 
position it fell, a stubborn memorial of the historical fact, to the utter confusion 



[']')n Wye. 

of all sceptics ami unbelievers.'" Aniencaus have loiiii" claimed for their Chicago 
belles tlie largest feet: iMit from this Avell-substautiated fact it is doubtful if any 
one of them ever wore so sj)acit)us a shoe as the fair .Aland on the banks of 
the Wye. King John, in revenge for succour refused, visited the town with 
his vengeance: and altogether its early history is as stirring as any to be met 
with in these parts, 
liy the time 
Ilav is rmichcd the 
Wve is fast bec(mi- 
ing a stream (jf 
considerable size. 

V^w-^^: Y; 


X<iw cnterintr Herefordshire, it flows throui;h a broad vale, cultivated and mellow, 
where Cliilord Castle stands a hoary ruin. Here, if history speak tru(\ was Iioru. in 
the reign of Henry II., one of u-reat and i:-eneral notoi'ielv. wliose name — or 
nom de guerri\ as Drydeii has it -is woven riclily into the liallads of lliat and later 
days; for doubtless her iieaulw like her failiiius, was great, and Iier death 
untimelv and cruel : — 

".lane C'litlord was her name, as l)ooks aver; 
Fair HosaiiiuiKl was Imt Iicr nom d>' f/tifn-r.'' 

Fair Hosamond was liorn alxMit the year 1140. How nuicli of the story coming to 
us tlirouLdi the medium of ballads and folk-tales be true, it is now (piife impossible 
to di.scover, but pojddar fancy still clings to the i.lea ot a lonely and innocently 
unfortunate jrirl installed at Wo(»dstock, protected by a nuise who ju-oved insuOieient 
when jutted against the cunning-- of a .scandalised wife and ipu^en. Fair K'osamond 
w:e. buried at Godstow, and ujion her fond) was carved the famous e])itapli : - 

The "Wye ] 



" Hie jacet in tumba Rosa Mundi, non Rosa munda : 
Non redolet, sed olet, quaj redolere solet." 

The raihvay has not improved the situation of this old castle :- 

" Clifford has fallen — howe'er sub- 

Mere fragments wrestle still with 
time ; 

Yet as they perish, sure and slow, 

And, rolling, dash the stream 

They raise tradilion's glowing 
scene, — 

The clue of silk, the wratljful 
queen ; 

And link in memory's firmest 

The lovelorn tale of Rosamond." 

Passing between Avooded 
eminences, broad tields, and 
peaceful farms, the Wye at 
length reaches the suburbs, 
and then the ancient city of 

Hereford was a town of 
importance even at the "*"■''' ™^""™ '^- ^^^'■ 

dawn of English history. 

Outside its walls stood the palace of Off a, the greatest of all the Mercian princes; 
and during the reign of the ^Mercian kings it was the principal town of ^lercia. 
Ethelfleda, .sister of Edward the Elder, governed the place with great skill, and 
she it was who constructed the castle that guarded the town, and constructed it so 
well that it proved to l^e one of the strongest in all P>ngland. Leland has this to 
say of the keep : " High, and verv strong, having in the outer Avail ten semicircular 
towers, and one great tower within"; and adds that "it hath been one of the 
largest, fayrest, and strongest ca.stles in England." 

Here, again, the Avily Llewelyn comes upon the scene, for he led his men 
from the fastness of the Upper Wa'c, pillaged and burnt the place, mui'dered the 
bishop and his assistants, set the cathedral ablaze, and left what had been a fail- 
town a mass of smouldering ruins. 

A visitor to this ancient citv will find it hard to realise that anything but 
peace and goodwill ever reigned in all the district, for in these days of bustle 
and worry it would be difficult to discover in all Great Britain a more placid, 
steady-going, self-satisfied city than Hereford. Well laid out, clean, at least 
reasonably well-to-do — although it does not lay claim to be a place of great 


iiulustrv. I'clviiiir nmn' ujmn tlio cliurch and tlio nuirkot tliau upon tlio manufactory 
— there .seems t<» he a perpetual air of Sunday hovering over tlie town. The very 
visitors — and thev arc manv — move soberly about the streets, and appear to have 
become imbued with tlie sjiirit of the place. No one can be man)- minutes in 
Hereford \\-ithout detecting that not only the people but the very l>uildings take 
their key from tlie graiul cathedral that, cahnly gazuig into the face of Time, has 
seen <>f men and houses generations come and generations go. 

Hereford as an ecclesiastical centre is one of the ancitnit in Great Britain, 
liut until the commission of Offa's grievous crime it must liave hccn comparatively 
unimportant, with a snuill wooden structure for a church. Offa's perlidy (-lianged 
all that. It will be renu^mbered that the ruthless prince treacherously induced 
Kthelbert, King of the Angles, to visit his Court, where he had him 
foully murdered, and buried in tlie church. Offa, of, then seized Kthelbert's 
crown. Having secured this, and being safely in.stalled in the jilace of his 
nnn-dered guest, he found time to repent; and tliat his repentance miglit seem 
the more real, he endowed with great riches the cliurch in which lay the body 
of his victim, and soon the wooden building gave ])laco to a .stone edllice. No doubt 
the king's offerings greatly a.s.sisted in founding Hereford on a solid (H-dcsiastical 
ba.sis, but the effect of his gifts wa.s evanescent, comj)ared with the \alu(> of his 
victim's bones, as an attraction to the devout. Kthelbert's reuuiins had not long been 
buried in the cathedral ere they began to work miracles, and .soon great numljers of 
l)eople from near and from afar sought the good saint's assistance, so that great 
riches flowed to the church and town; and from tliat day to tliis Hereford has 
continued to ])rosper. 

For two hundred vears the cliurcli Iniilt over the lioncs of Mtlicllirrt stood, 
before the Welsh, as has been told, laid the jdace in ruins. In luT'J Hishop Robert 
of Lorraine began to rebuild, and the work was not completed until early in the 
sixteenth century. This is the liuilding many times restored — that stands to the 
present ilay. More than a bundled years ago (in 17S(1) the W(>stern tower collapsed, 
Jiringing down with it most of the west fnmt, ami this, as well as many otlu-r parts 
of the «-athedral, was rebuilt. 

Inside the cathedral ai-e many interesting moiiunu'nts of mi'M who played largo 
parts in the hi-tory of England, and. besides, the lathcdral has a unicpie 
trea.sure in the far-famed " Mai»]ta Mumli,"' a production of one De llaldingham, 
who lived in the fourteenth century. This nuip. if not the oldest, is at (mo 
of the very oldest in the world. Ilavergal says of it: "The world is here repre- 
sented iis round, surrounded by the ocean. At the lop of the map is i-cprcs(Mited 
I'aradiM', with its rivers and trees; also the eating of llic ioiliiddcn fruit and the 
expulsion of our first jjarents. Above is a renun-kalile re])resentation of the l>ay of 
Judgment, with the Virgin Mary interceding for the faithful, who an* .seen rising 
from their graves, anrl being led within the walls of Heaven. Tlie map is chiefly 
filli-d with ideas taken from Herodotus, .Solinus, Isidoie, I'liny, and other aiui(.'nt 

The Wye.] HEREFORD. 185 

historians. Thcro aro nunierou.s figures of towns, animals, birds, and fish, witli 
grotesque customs sucli us the medi;uval gcogra|)liers boliovod to exist in diffcM-ont 
parts of the world. The four great cities are very prominent -Jerusalem as the 
centre of the world; IJabylon, with its famous tower; liome, the capital of the 
world . . . and Troy ... In (ireat liritain ot the cathedrals are mentioned, 
but of Ireland the author seems to have kncnvn ve:y little." 'J'ruly a wondei'I'ul 
record of the geographical knowledge of the Middle Ages! 

Hereford was tlie birthplace of Xell Gwyinie, orange-seller, acti-ess, and Court 
favourite— short, red of Iiair or nearly so, and with feet .so small as to cause 
general amusement. The street in which .she was born is now called Gwynne 
Lane, and the place is still pointed out to tourists who are interested in the story 
of the famous beauty. David Garrick also was born in the (-ity. 

Before leaving Hereford, it may Ijc W(jrt]i wliilc; to note that here, as at nuiny 
other i)laces, it was once the custom to insert a clause in tli(; iiulentures of 
apprentices "that they .should not be comi)elled to live on salmon more than two 
days in the week." Needless to .say, no such clause is now necessary. In 
1234 the wolves became .so numerous about the outskirts of the city, that a ])i-o- 
damation called upon all the king's liege people to in destroying them. 

And now leaving the cathedral city, our river flows mider the Wye Bridge, 
built so long ago as 1490, with si.\ noble arches, and proceeds on its wav towards Four miles below Hereffu-d, the most important of all the tributaries that spill 
their floods into the winding Wye is met with. This is the Lug, which it.self 
al)sorbs the waters of several smaller rivers mi its way southwards. The 
meeting of the Lug with the Wye takes place at the little village of Mordiford, 
where once upon a time an enormous serpent, winged and awful, used to betake 
itself from feasting upon men and women and little children to drink of the waters 
of the Wye. This terrible serpent was de.stroye(l by a malefactor, who was offeri'd 
a pardon should he accomplish the of ridding the good pecjple of the .sore 
pest; and it is .sad to learn that in killing the .serpent he inhaled so much of its 
poisonous breath that he died almost at the .same time as the monster Ik; had brought 
low. But the results of a later event, almost as important and awe-inspiring, are to 
be seen not far from this part of the Wye. They are known as " Th(3 Wonder," a 
mile and a half from Woolhopc, in a parish which, one woidd thiidv, .should be 
called Miracle, but is really called Marcle. To best describe what "The Wonder" 
is, we will quote Sir Richard Bakers "Chronicles of England" as follows: — " Li 
the thirteenth year of Queen Elizabeth a prodigious earthquake happened in the 
east part of Hereford.shire, at a little town called Kinna.ston. On the 17th of 
February, at six o'clock in the evening, the earth began to open, and a hill, with 
a rock under it, making at first a great hollowing noise which was heard a great wa}- 
off, lifted itself up and began to travel, bearing along with it the trees that grew 
upon it, the sheepfolds, and flocks of .sheep abiding there at the same time. In the 
place from whence it was first moved it left a gaping distance 40 foot broad and 



[The Wye. 

four^^core ells long: the whole field was about twenty acres. Passing along, it 
overthrew a chapel standing in the way. ronioved a yew-tree jilanted in the cliurch- 
vard from the west to the east: with tli(> like force it thrust 1)efore it liigliways, 
.sheepfolds, hedsres, 
the trees : made 
tilled ground pas- 
tui-e, and again 
turned pasture into 
tillage. Having 
walked in this sort 
from Saturday even- 
ing till Ml )nday 
noon, it then stood 
still."" Surely, tliis 
is a record, even 

SYMONI)"s YAT [p. 140). 

ill the land of Saturday-to-3Ioii- 
dav trips! 

lietwecn IToreford and Koss 
the Wye flows (niieth', and with- 
out many striking features, either 
as regards tlie sconerv or the 
stream itself. I'pon its breast float 
pleasure-boats in grtvit iiiiiiibcM's, 
although in the drv season of tiie 
year, unless the midmost cliaiincl 
is rigidly adliered to, numbers of 
sliallows interrupt the passage even of skiffs of liglit draught, for the river 
occasionally spreads out to a great surface, and runs proportioiuitely sliallow ovi-r 
rock and gravel. Indeed, it is not until the ancient town of Ross is readied that 
the Wye becomes a general favourite witli the floating poiiuhitimi. 

lvos.s, as .seen from the surrounding countr^•. appears lo l)e standing a-1i|itoe, 
trying to touch the sky with the tip of its Iteautil'ul spire. 'I'hi' ehureh with its 
slender spire attracts the eye lioiu a great di.stance — it is, to all appearances, the one 
|ironiineMt ol)ject in all the country round about — and the sight of it has caused 
travellers to sigh, for to svv. it for the first time is to be a long, long way from 
it. Ileri' in this U\\\ town ol' Koss lived iiml died a man wliose name is known, 


Tbf. Wye.] 



one miglit say, not at all, but whose descriptive ajipellation, oiven to him whilst 
he was still alive, will be recognised the world over. This is John Kvrle, '' The 
Man of lioss." 

The history of the town of Ross is principally a mass of details, authentic 
and apocryphal, regarding the life, times, and labours, the recreations, walks, 
works, and ways of " The Man of Ross." Few places are so entirely given up to 

MOXMOITH (/). 141). 

the memory of one man as is Ross to the memor}' of John Kyrle. Everywhere 
in that quaint and clean little town, " The Man of Ross," in some form or 
other, meets the eye. Here his favourite walk, there the park he gave to the 
people, again the pew in which he worshipped, the house in which he lived, the 
buildings he reared, the streets he made — everything tells of John Kyrle. He was 
born in the year 1637, and was educated at Balliol College, Oxford, where is still to 
be seen a silver tankard bearing his name. As this tankard holds five pints, it is to 
be inferred that the student who was to become " The Man of Ross " was a lusty 
drinker, although in after-life he proved himself to be a man of abstemious habits. 
His long life — he died aged eighty-eight — was devoted to doing good to all whom 
he could help, improving not only man but town and country as well : — 

•'But all our praises wliy sliould lords engross? 

Rise, lionest Muse ! and sing the Man of Rcss : 

Pleased Vaga echoes through her winding bounds, 

And rapid Severn hoarse applause resounds. 

Who hung with woods yon mountain's sultry brow? 

From the dry rock who bade the waters flow 1 
■ Not to the skies in useless columns tost, 

Or in proud i'^ills magnificently lost, 



But, clear and artless, pouring through the plain, 
Health to the sick, and solace to the swain. 
Whose causeway parts the vale with shady rows? 
Whose scats the weary traveller reix)se f 
Who taught the heaven-directed spire to rise? 
'The ^lan of Koss,' each lisping babe replies." 

So says IVipc in Iiis '• ^foral Essays," and. in sayinp- this and much more about the 
•rood man. scattered the fame of John Kyrle far and wide. It is plea.sant to know- 
that a man who sliowcd Iiini.self so solicitous tluit others sliould taste of enjovnient 
was able himself ti> take great delight in simple things. " He dearlv loved a goose,'' 
says Leiteh liitehie, '• and was vain of his dexterity in carving it. During the 
operation, which he invariably took upon him.self, he always repeated one of those 
old sayings and standing witticisms that seem to attach thcniselvos with ])e(uliar 
preference to the cooked goose. He never had roast beef on Jiis table save and 
except on Christmas day, and malt li(jUors and good Hereford cyder were the oiilv 
beverages ever introduced." 

The good man's bones in l\oss CIumtIi. the spire of wliicli lie had repaired; 
and to this day are shown the trees that have forced a way through chinks in the 
wall and iloor of the building, so that their branches and leaves might droop as 
though in the attitude of mourning over his grave. From the churchyard there is 
to be had a magnificent view of the Wye sweeping in a great curve far below, the 
waters hastening on to lose themselves in the Severn. From Ross to the mouth of 
the Wye, those who can afford the time should nuike the journey by boat. It 
will be well to di.scard the use of adjectives and exclamations in taking this trij), 
for thr gifted in the use of these parts of speech will speedily liiid them- 
.selves irt their wits' end for words to exjtress their admiration of the scenerv. 

Midway between Koss and Monmouth stands Goodrich Castle, grandly seated 
upon a steep, heavily-wooded hill — a castle l)uilt so long ago that the memory of 
its beginning is in the haze of ancient days. During the Civil ^^'ar it was 
besieged and at length .successfully stormed by the IJouiulheads, in 1<H(>. It is 
in form a j)arallelogram, having a tower at each angle, and a keep in tlic south- 
west part of the emlosure ; and, viewed from the Wye, it is a splendid ruin, trees 
that ding to the face of the cliffs heightening the effect of the picture. The Wye, 
flowing swiftly, .soon sweeps one's boat round its many bends, initil the district 
known as the Forest of Dean is reached, lying between the Wye and tli(> Severn. 
Striking scenes of stream and cliffs, of casth-s and courts, of al)ljeys 
haunted by memories of events rich in historical interest, now follow one another 
as rapidly a.s cJianges in a kaleido.scope. Courtlield claims tiie honour oi being 
the place where Henry V. was nursed; and there is a <ra(ile to substantiate the 
rlaim. After pa.ssing Mailscot Wood, tin- river b)nns itself into ;i loop like an 
elongated horse.shoe. On one side of the narrow neck of land arc the famous 
Coldwell iiMcks, the beginning <jf the great limestone cliffs that, onward to the 



TTiiE Wte. 

sea, liein in the stream, and carry on their riio-ged sides elinirinu- woods and 
ivy. Kains and storms have beaten these Coldwell Rocks into fantastic sliapes, 
until to the travelli'r wlio lirst sets eyes upon them they seem to be castles cut 


out of stone bv a race of 

mii:lity <riants. " Castles and 

towers, amphitheatres aiul 

fortilications, battlements and obelisks, mock the wanderer, who fancies himself 

tran.^ported int(» the ruins of a city of some < xtinct lace."' * 

Anyone who lia.s seen the beauty of botli t1i(> :\Ios, 11,. and tlie W've must be 
struck by the similarity between \hv two rivers. 'i'ja' .Mnscllc. to be sure, is in 
every way more important than the Wye - in depth and l)readtli of stream, in 
hei<.rlit of the bluffs that at many jjoints form the banks, and in the nund)er of 
ca.stles that crown the hills; but. notwithstandinji- these differem-es, they mij^lit almost 
))e called twin rivers. Thei-e ;ire no neatly-trimmed vineyards shtpini;- down the sides 
of the Wye hei^dits, but. on the other hand, the Moselle cannot .-li-iw such -nind 
forest.s a.s can the Kn-lish stream. .\ud each river, at least <>urr in its .-onrse. 
df)ubles Itack upon itself, so that the spei-tator can trarr the ],.,,),. and sec the 
Htreum Howin.:: far beneath on either liainl. At Symuud's Vat. a little below Coldwell 

* (juoted io -Tin W\c and ita Anjujciaiions.' \>\ I,, Ititchic. 

The Wye.] 



Rocks, the neck of Land that divides the Wye from itself is only some 600 
}ards across ; and by standini;' un the rocky plateau, one may see the river 
flowing by on botli sides. The prospect, one of the finest in all England, embraces 
large parts of Gloucestershire, Herefordshire, and ^Monmoutlishire, including Coppet 
Hill, Huntshani, docklands, Whitchurch, Gooibich Castle, Coldwell Kocks, the 
Forest of Dean, Courtfield, and — it is ditticult to escape this — the spire of Koss 

In hurrying between these gigantic cliffs, and sweeping round the loop, it is 
only natural that the Wye, born with a turbulent disposition, should have nniny 
savage encounters with the rocks; and, now grown so mighty, the waters roar their 
anger in deepdunged notes. Many obstacles impede the course of the stream, for 
storms still continue occasionally to hurl great masses of rock from their positions ; 
and altogether, were one to be given the choice of seeing only one part of the 
Wye, Symond's Yat should Ije the chosen spot. 

Passing between Lords Wood and Lady-Park Wood and skirting Great wood 
and Xewton Court, the Wye arrives at Monmouth. Encircled by hills, and i'^self 
seated high, this town, still unspoiled b}- the modern builder and restorer, occupies 
a position between the Wye and the Monnow. Monmouth has had its ups and 
downs ; for long before the Conquest 
a fortress existed here, and to build a 
castle has ever been to invite a siege. 
Li the davs of Henry III. the castle 
was levelled with the ground so effec- 
tively that Lambarde writes : '' Thus the 
glorie of Monmouth had clean perished; 
ne hade it pleased Gode longe after in 
that jilace to give life to the noble 
King Henry V., who of the same is 
called Henry of Monmouth." John of 
Gaunt lived here, and Henry IV. also, 
and, as the ancient writer says, Henry V. 
was born in the castle. This event has 
ncjt been forgotten, for a statue of the 
popular king stands o2jposite the Town 
Hall in Agincourfc Square, the centre of 
the town. In more ancient days Mon- 
mouth was a walled town, and one of 
the four gates of the wall still stands ; 
and a bridge built in 1272, remarkably 
naiTOw, but sturdy and strong, still spans 
the Monnow ; while the meagre ruins of 
the castle look down from the brow of 



the river-cliff on the meadows by riiis tributary stream. St. ^farv's Church has 
a spire '200 feet in heijzlit : St. Thomas's Chapel, datiiiu- from the days of the 
Normans, stands in the centre of the part of tlic town whidi used to be <riven 
up to tlie making of the renowned Monmoutli cap, of wliidi Fuller, in his 
"Worthies," says: ''These were the most ancient, wium, :iinl ])rofitabie 
coverings of men's heads in this island. It is wortli our pains to observe the 
tenderness of our kings to preserve the trade of cap-making, and what long and 
strong struggling our State had to keep up the using thereof, so many thousands 
of ])eople being thereby maintained in the land, especiallv before the invention 
of fulling-mills, all caps before that time being wrought, beaten, and thickened 
by the hands and feet of men, till those mills, as they cased numv of their 
labour, outed more of their livelihood.'' Xot far from the iiarish church is tlie 
picturcsrpie remnant of a Benedictine priorv, founded in tlie reign of Ilenrv I. 
by Wyhenoc, third Lord of ^Monmouth : and here it is not improbable that 
Geoffrey of Monmouth, coinj)iler of the fabuhms " Ilistorv of the Britons."' out 
of Aviiich grew the Poem of the Table IJoiuul. was educated. 

Tlie ^lonnow, which ilows into the Wy(> below ^Monmoutli. has for its chief 
trilmtarv the Dore, which winds its way through tliat delightful region known 
far and wide as the (iolden A'^alley. This valley is fitly styled Golden, though 
it has received its designation from a mistaken derivation of its name, Avhich 
means "water" — that and nothing more — being but a form of the Welsh dwr. 
Round it ring the hills, not bald and craggv, nor morass-bound, but gentle and 
lush and green, for tlie valley lies just out of the grip of the mountainous 
districts of Wales. Here the fields arc fresh, the undulations capped Avith glorious 
trees, and the -whole valley is chequered with tints; for it is a region rich of 
soil, and highly cultivated. One of the most interesting places on the banks of 
the stream is the little village of Abbey Dore, where is the rcnniant of an 
ancient abbey, now forming the parish church. It was begun for the Cistercians, 
by Kfdjert of Ewias, in the reign of Henry I., but was only finished in the 
day.s of the third lli-nry. Xot less attractive to the anticpun-y is the tinv 
Nonnan churcli of Kilpeck, celebrated for the richness of its decorations. Near 
by tliere once .stood a ca.stle, but of this nothing now rcnuiins but the mound, 
a deep moat, and fragments of the walls. 

Another tributary of the ^Monnow is the llonddu, which ilows down through 
the Vale of Ewias, j) the ruins of Llanthom- I'liorv. This lanious liousc seems 
to have been foinided in the early years of the twelfth centmy l)y William de 
Lacy, a Nonnan knight, and Krnisius, cha])lain to [Nfaud, wife of Henry I. At 
first it liaJ a ])rosperous career, liut the wild Welshmen soon fell uj)on it, and tlie 
I*rior and his bietliren were forced to betake themselves to the more peaceable regions 
fif Glouccster.shire. When men and times Ijecame (|uict(>r, however, the nu)nks 
retimicd. 'J'iie remains of the Priory are still beautifid. In |Sii!l Walter Savage 
Landor jiuj-chased the estate on which they stand, and set about making great 

The Wye.] 



improvements. Mr. Colvin, in his " Landor," sa3-s: "He imported sheep from Segovia, 
and apjolied to Southey and other friends for tenants who should introduce and 
teach improved methods of cultivation. The inhabitants were drunken, impoverished, 
and morose : he was bent upon reclaiming and civilising them. The woods had suffered 
from neglect or malice : he 
would clothe the sides of tlic 
valley witli cedars of Leljanon. 
With that object, he bouglit 
two thousand cones, calculated 
to yield a hundred seeds each, 
intending to do ten times as 
much afterwards, and exulting 
in the thought of the million 
cedar-trees which ho would 
thus leave for the shelter and 
the delight of posterity." All 
Landor's schemes, however, 
came to nought. Before long- 
he found himself in em- 
barrassed circumstances : Llan- 
thony was, by arrangement, 
taken out of his hands and 
vested in those of trustees, and 
his half - built mansion was 
pulled down. 

A little below Momnouth 
the Trothey, a much smaller 
stream than the j\Ionnow, also 
joins the Wye. The banks 
from Monmouth onwards to 
the sea are steep and well 
wooded, and for the greater 
part of the way a splendid 
and well-kept road winds along 
the side of the right bank. 

Far below, the river is continually appearing and disappearing ; and the trees 
dig their feet into the rocks and seem precariously to (;ling as they diji down 
towards the stream. Occasionally a cliff more than usually near to the perpen- 
dicular has managed to ward (jff the encroaching growths of forest and bush 
and ivy, and to stand bold-faced to the sun ; but generally there is foliage to 
make more refreshing to the sight the precipitous banks. 

Rivers have ever attracted to their banks poets, who of all men most closely 



searcli the heart of Nature in lier peaceful and p-entle moods; but few streams have 
enjuNcd the irood fortune of the Wye to have their verv spirit eaufjht and shaped 
into imperishahh> v(>rse. Wordswortli's nolile poem. '' Lines composed a few miles 
ahove Tintern AMtey, on revisitimr the banks of the Wye duriuii- a tour, July 
l-*>th. irnS," l)reathes the inmost soul of river and liills. and of the tranquil, 
meditative atmosphere tliat lills the <rlorious valley. No j)oet lias lield liis vdv 
so close to Nature's l)i)soiii as Wordsworth, and in tlu^sc lines he has pictured 
and irlorified the \\'ye as no pen ni.iy hope to picture and glorify it aj^ain. 
To (juote Imt the openinij' score of lines: — 

'• Fivi- yoars have jmsseil ; five summers, witli tlio lcni;tli 
Of Hve loiij; wiiitoi-s ! and again I licar 
Tlii'sp watoi-s, rullinj; from tlieir mountain s|irin;;s 
Witli a swet't inland murmur. Once again 
l>o I heliold steep and lofty cliffs 
Tliat on a wild secluded scene impress 
Thoughts of more deep seclusion ; and connect 
The landscjvpe with the quiet of the sky. 
Tlie day is come when I again repose 
Hero, under tiiis dark .sycamore, .and \ie\v 
These plots of cott.age-ground, these orcliard-tiifts, 
AVliich at this se.ison, with their unripe fruits, 
Are cliwl in one green hue, and lose themselves 
Among the woofls and copses, nor disturb 
'J'lie wild green landscape. Once again I see 
These hedgerows, hardlj* hedgerow.s, little lines 
Of sjiortive wood run wild ; these pa-storal farms, 
Green to the very door; and wreaths of smoke 
Sent up, in silence, from among the trees ! " 

Meditation, contemplation, serenity, each not unmixed with ]iathos, are the kev- 
notes of this part of the Wye valley ; tind our river would have done well 
enouj.di if not another poet had ever afterwards stini:- of its lianks and Hood. 
But this was not to be its fate: for has not Tenny.son told us in •'in .Mciiioriam "' 
how •• hiilf the balilpliiiL-- Wye" is hushed by the .Severn, whose miyhtier tide 
(hives back its Hood':' — 

" The Wye is IulsIrmI, nor niovi'd along, 
And hushed my deepest grief of all 
Wiien filled with tears that cannot fall 
I Itriiii with sorrow lirowning song. 

"The tide flows (htwn. the wave again 
In vocal in its woixled walls; 
-My deeper anguish also falls, 
Anil I can speak a little then." 

It is at the I'.iirgiiiii I'ool, past the pretty villao-e of I.lini(lo<ro, that the 
Severn tiih,- is first met. Now, altliough the scenery is siddime, tlieie can 
be no gainsaying fliat tlie and fall of the tide nuirs the beauty of the 

The ■\Vye.] 



^yye. Instead of the clear mountain water, tlie stream is turbid, and at low 
tide the banks present great stretches of soft mud. For the first time the 
stream now takes on a connnercial asjject, lazy barges floating up and do^ni, 

I'hoio : Uurrtij Barton, Bru^lnl 

.llEI'STOW tASTLE {p. 146) 

and a few enterprising little steamers making their cautious way round the 
sharp bends. 

But forgetting the blemish, if blemish it be, the traveller can set his thoughts 
upon and his face towards one of the most inspiring of all the ancient memorials of 
England's past, the home of the Cistercian monks dedicated to the Virgin Mary — 
Tintern Abbey. Coming round a bend in the river one catches sight of the 
beautiful ruin with startling suddenness. It stands close by the waterside, on what 


was once a meadow stretcliing away from the Wye. Here the liills rise in a 
complete circle, and nestling- in the midst of this amphitheatre is tlie abbey, a 
ruin, it is true, vet not so mutilated by the luind of Time as to make it impossible 
or even difficult at thi.s day to ima<i:ine it as it stood in all its completeness and 
beautv. "Wliether Tintern. unspoiled In- Time and neglect, was as impressive as 
it is in its decav, thougli the greenest of green grass now grows on the floor once 
trodden by the white-robed '-monks, and the rooks sit in a jet-black line on the 
to}) of the roofless walls — one may very well doubt. Those who have passed even a 
dav in and about the ancient ablicy will liiul it easy to believe that its liistory is 
one of serenitv and peace. The hills that ring it round stand like a cordon of 
mighty giants to beat back all worklliness that would enter the charmed circle. Tlie 
very air hangs heavv and still, and the river, forgetting its wild youth and storniv 
middle age. passes l)y. if one might so describe it, with bared head and hushed 
breath. Here for hundreds of years lived successive generations of monks, having 
little, wanting little. pas.sing their days in the deepest peace and solitude ; and 
though thev have long since vanished, they have left behind them what is perhaps 
the finest monastic ruin in the kingdom. 

.Shortlv after the dawn of the twelfth century one Walter de Clare founded 
Tintern for Cistercian monks, aiul in the thirteenth century a lord of Chepstow, 
Roger de Bigod, built the abbew ( 'ruciform in shape, it was 228 feet in length, 
7(1 feet high, and 37 feet in breadth, with transepts loO feet long. When King 
Henrv Ylll. took possession of the monasteries, he allowed this to fall into rapid 
decay, and at length presented it ro the Earl of Worcester. Tlie ruins now 
belong to the Duke of Beaufort, and they are watched and guarded from fm-ther 
decay with a(liiiiral)le vigilance, each particular stone being careftdly noted, and 
everv moulded arch and muUioned window — indeed, the A^ery ivy and grass — 
receiving close attention. The nuignificent ea.stern window', G4 feet in breadth, is 
but one feature of a ruin that attracts nndtitudes of visitors to the vallev 
(jf the Wye. 

Between Tiiiteni and the little iiietropolis of the lower W\(\ Chejistow, dutv 
to one's of sight requires him to scale the summit of Wyndclitf. ()iu'e on 
top, nine counties, according to Bevan. can be seen — to wit, Gloucester, Sonun-set, 
Wilts, Devon, Glamorgan, ^loiiiuouth, Brecknock, Hereford, and Worcester. Not 
onlv for the curiosity of a pro.spect which in its sweep takes in so many shii'es, 
but also for the l)eauty of the view, this ascent of the Wyndcliff sliould not be 
mi.ssed. For an exquisite blending of rock and river, forests, mountains, and plain. 
town.s and villages, ruins and farndiouses, roads like white-silk threads lilowu upon 
the face of the land, black railways, drifting ships, it is not too much to say that 
the finest views in all the land can do no more than claim to be its peer. 

After we have passed on the lelf Llancaut and on the right Pierce \\'oods, the 
sturdy old town of Chepstow comes into view. The casth>, from the river, seems to 
have thrown out of the liviny,- rocks, which here rise sheer from the water to a great 

The Wye.] 



height, and form a natural defence that must liave rendered the fortress impregnable 
to all attack from the water. Supposed to have been built in the eleventh and 
rebuilt in the tliirteenth century, it experienced its most stirring times in the days 
of the Civil War. It was held by the Royalists ; and there first appeared before it 
Colonel Morgan, who, 
witli singular valour and 
determination, carried it 
by assault. Later on 
Sir Nicholas Kemys suc- 
cessfully surprised the 
place, which action 
brought before the bat- 
tlements Cromwell him- 
self, who, however, could 
not spare the time per- 
sonally to direct the 
operations. His sub- 
stitute. Colonel Ewer, 
with great skill conducted 


the seige, and ultimately forced 
the king's men to throw open 
the gates. 

Several parts of an ancient 
wall that once surrounded Chep- 
stow still remain, with the watch- 
towers complete ; and one gate 
dating from the sixteenth century 
— the Town Gate — still stands, 
a curious archway across the 
principal street, a thoroughfare 
that slopes steeply down to the Wye. A church of gre?-t antiquity is Chepstow 
Church, built in the days of the Normans, and conta-ining several monuments 
of unusual interest, with the grave of Henry IMarten, one of the signatories 
of King Charles's death-warrant, who spent many long years as a prisoner 
in Chepstow Castle. One of the towers of the castle is called Marten's Tower, an 
unintended commemoration of the Roundhead's imprisonment within its walls. 

Bidding a final good-bye to towns and tributaries, but still retaining its rugged 




[The Wtb. 

banks and, in a measure, its stately woods, the Wye makes straight for the sea, 
where this cliild of the mountains, after swaUowing the largess brought down to it 
by a score of smaller streams, is itself, in turn, swallowed in the greater flood of 
the Severn. To the very last, however, the Wye retains its individuality and 
character — picturesque ever, picturesque to the end. From its fount on Plinlimmon 
to the end of its course of a hundred and thirty miles, where it gracefully rolls into 
tlie broad estuary, it has scari-ely ever, even for a mile, been conxmon})lace. 

E. W. Sabel. 



♦^ JSs The Black Mountains -Trecastle — The Gaer — Brecon — The Brecknock Beacons - Crickhowell 
— Abergavenny — Usk — Caerleon and the Arthuiian Legend - Christchnrch - Kewport. 

HE Avild and inclement Black ]\r(:)initains, " Fforest FawT," 
between C'arniarthensliire and Brecknockshire, collect the first 
drops that, trickling down the side of the hills, gather 
vohnne and strength and in time become rivers that are 
the delight and pride of a country. Three springs, clear 
and tiny, away up the dark mountain side, where Talsarn 
towers to an altitude of more than 2,500 feet, are the fountain- 
heads of a river that, after an extended course of seven-and- 
Wjf^^^^^ fifty miles in the general shape of a bow, joins the sea at Newport 
I f't^^sT^^ — ^^''^ Usk.* Not far away are the sources of many another river 
— the Tawe and the Neath, to name but two ; but of all the 
streams that are born in this cheerless region the Usk is by far the 
most important. 

Hunying on its way with the leaps and falls that are cnaracter- 
istic of mountain streams, our river is first joined by the Henwen brook, a tiny 

* For Map of the Usk see uiite, p. 127. 


stream tliat lias the honour of forming a part of the bomidaiy-line between two shii'es. 
J5eyond the wooded vale of Cwm Wysc the Usk receives the Ilydfer, and at 
length comes to Trecastle, once a place of rare show and importance, but now 
modest enough in all conscience. Here may still be seen a mound and large 
eai-thworks of Bernard Xewmarch's Castle. Below this village the Usk receives the 
waters of Drayton's " Cray," the iirst stream of real importance that tlows into 
the greater river; and, after leaping a ledge of rock in a beautiful fall, continues 
its way tln-ough a tract of country once the hiding-place of a swarm of deter- 
mined robbers and outlaws — the Forest of Brecon. At one time this region lay 
at the mercv of these desperadoes ; and it seems to have been necessary for Edward 
111. to l)uild castles for the protection of people compelled to journey througli 
the forest. Henry IV. sojourned in one of these fortresses in 1403, and thence 
issued a general pardon to all the rebels who would cease from troubling ; but the 
chances are that this wild and well-nigh inaccessible district offeri'd more attractions 
to the turbulent robbers than did the prospect of hard and honest work, coupled 
witli the king's pardon The Usk now receives a goodly contribution from the 
Vscir: and between the two streams are the remains of a Koman camp, the Gaer, 
rectangular in form and believed to have been in connnand of Ostorius 8ca}3ula. 
The ruins of this fort are remarkably well preserved, the walls in 2)laces standing 
six feet high, although partly overgrown with bush. Many valuable coins and other 
curio.sities belonging to the lionum period have here been excavated. Inclining 
to the south, the Usk now flows through a lovely bit of wooded country, and 
reaches the village of Llanspyddid, where an atti-active view is to be had of the 
river, still in its youth, running with merry song over shallows and between high 
picturesque banks. 

Brecon, occupying a highly picturesque situation, is the first place of any 
importance that the Usk comes to in its flight from the mountains. Two 
streams Join the river at this point, the Tarel and the Honddu ; and, as the 
town is ringed completely round with high mountains, it may be said to lie in 
tlif bottom of a huge bowl. Near by, the Beacons, twin peaks, the highest 
mountains in South Wales, tower to the sky, and add grandeur to the beauty of 
the neighbouring hills. In the reign of good Queen, Churchyard was moved 
to at the sight of Brecon and its surroundings. Thus he sings: — 

" The towiie is built as in a pit it were 
By waterside, all lapt about with hill ; 
You may behold a ruinous castle there, 
Somewhat defaste, the walles j'et standeth still. 
Small narrowe streetes through all the towne ye have, 
Yet in the same are sundrie houses brave ; 
Well built without, yea trim and fayre within, 
With sweete prospect, that shall your faxour win. 
The river Oske and Hondie runiies thereby, 
Fower bridges good, of stone stands on each streame." 


Though a town of great antiquity, Brecon, when compared mth many 
places in Wales, is almost modern, for it seems to have first come into 
prominence in the days of the Normans, who out of the ruins of the old 
Roman fortress already referred to built the first stronghold here. It was, of 
course, a walled town, with ten turrets and five gates, and traces of this old 
wall still exist. The castle was a strong one, occupying a connnanding position. 
In one of its towers ]\Iorton, Bishop of Ely, lay in prison, given into the 
custody of the Duke of Buckingham by Richard III., who was jealous of the 
bishop's power; and here the gaoler and prisoner, neither of them well disposed 
towards the king, plotted to marry Henry of Richmond with the Lady Elizabeth, 
and thus heal the breach between the rival houses of York and Lancaster. So 
Morton was allowed to escape, while Buckingham, marching against the king, fell 
into his enemy's hands and lost his head at Salisbmy. The Castle of Brecon 
met its fate in sorry manner. When the great Civil War broke out, and 
king and Pai-liament came to blows, the people of the town, fearing that the 
fortress would be garrisoned by one party or the other, and that the place 
would be besieged and themselves visited with all the danger and suffering 
that waits upon active war, took matters into their own hands by demolishing 
the stronghold, of which only some ivy-clad walls, Avith the Ely tower, now 
remain, overlooking the Honddu. Cliarles I., in his feverish flight after the 
disastrous battle of Naseby, put up for a time at Priory House; and in a humble 
hostelry in High Street, then known as " The Shoulder of Mutton," Mrs. 
Siddons, queen of actresses, was born in 17o5, her parents being temporarily 
resident here. 

The chief glory of the town in these days is the Priory Church of St. John, 
founded by Bernard Xewmarch, in the reign of Henry I., in the hope of atoning 
for the murders and other crimes that he had committed in hewing his way to 
the place of power he occupied in this part of Wales. It is a building of unusual 
interest, predominantly Xorman in style, but with Earlv English and Decorated 
additions. Another feature of Brecon is the massive bridge of seven strongly 
buttressed arches which spans the L'sk. 

Taking a south-easterly direction, the Usk flows away from the county town, 
and soon receives a tiny river that comes from the towering heights of the Beacons, 
locally called " Arthur's Chair," and forming one of the finest of the sights which 
Wales offers to her lovers. " Artures Hille," says Leland, "is three good Walche 
miles south-west from Brekenok, and in the veri toppe of the hille is a faire welle 
spring. This Hille of summe is countid the hiest Hille of Wales, and in a veri 
cleere day a manne may see from hit a part of Malvern Hilles, and Glocester, and 
Bristow, and part of Devenshire and Cornwale. There be divers other hilles by 
Artures Hille, the wich, with hit, be communely caullid Banne Brekeniauc." Wood, 
in his "Rivers of Wales," declares that "the well here mentioned does not exist," 
so that it would have been better, perhaps, if Leland had done as Churchyard 



TThe Usk 

did, who wrote of notbiug he had not seen — if his vevse is to be taken quite 

literally. He says: — 

•• Xere Breaknoke Towne, there is a moimtaine hye, 
Wliich shewes so huge, it is full hard to clime. 
The iiiountaine seemes so moustrous to the eye, 
Yet thousands doe repayre to that sometime. 


Ami they that stand right on tlie top shal see 

A wonder great, as people doe report ; 

Which common brute and saying true may bee. 

But since, in decdc, I did not there resort, 

I write no more, then world will witncsse well." 

From tlio Brecknock lieacdiis tlicre is a truly rcniarkiililc view; and for tliose 
unable or unwillinjr to cliinli. tlieic is tlie sioht of tlir mountains themselves. 

Continuing its course to tbe east and south, the Usk passes on, sku'ting JJwlch, 

a'Hi: TJsK.] 



a mountain over which the main road runs, offering glimpses on one hand of the 
valley of the Wye, and on the other of the valley of the Usk. Presently, our 
stream passes by the meagre remains of Diiias Castle, which had the honour of 
being stormed by Alfred the Great's daughter, Ethelfleda, and taken too, although 
garrisoned at the time by three-and-thirty valiant AVelsh women ; for the men 
were all fighting far afiold. Through a lovely valley the Usk reaches its second 
town of consequence — 
Crickhowell. This "preatie 
tounlet stondith as in a 
valley upon Wisk," Leland 
says ; and, indeed, its situa- 
tion on the north-east bank 
of the river is beautiful. 
Whichever way one looks, 
the scenery is charming in 
its attractiveness and rich 
in the romantic and the 
jjicturesque. Close to the 
Abergavenny road stand 
the ruins of what once must 
have been a castle of very 
considerable dimensions, 
which covered as much as 
eiffht acres of ground. 

Tli;; IIUM.VX \\-ALL AT 

[p. l^i). 

Even in the days of 

Elizabeth this castle was nothing more than a ruin. No great distance from 
Crickhowell is the AVell of St. Cenau, eagerly sought for by the newly-married, 
for to drink its waters first was to secure command of the house for life : — 

" ' You drank of the well, I warrant, betimes,' 

He to the countryman said ; 
But the countryman smiled as the stranger spoke, 

And sheepishly shook his head. 
' I hasten'd as soon as the wedding was done, 

And left my wife in the porch ; 
But, i' faith, she had been wiser than me, 

For she took a bottle to church.' " 

Farther down stream is Llangattoc Park, with its roomy cave, known as Eglwys 
Faen, "the stone church"; and beyond is Llangwryney, where Richard, Earl of 
Clare, passing through the wood, preceded by pipers, was set upon by the Welsh 
and murdered. Here the Gwryney joins the Usk, which, flowing through scenery 
that has been called the " Garden of Wales," and passing from Brecknock into 
Monmouth, reaches the ancient town of Abergavenny, lying in the shadow of the 


Sugar-Loaf Mountain at the junction of the Usk and tlie Gavenny — " the brook that 
christneth Abergeney." As is the case with so man}- Welsh towns, Abergavenny 
is wholly surrounded l)y high hills, but here the valley is spacious and fruitful. 
Of tliis place Cliurchyard, whose poetry is met with at evcrv turn, says: — 

"Aborganie, behind I kept in store, 
Whose seat .ind soyle with best nia_y well compare. 
The towne somewhat on steepe and mounting hill, 
With pastor grounds and meddowes great at will : 
On every side huge mountaines hard and hye, 
And some thicke woods, to please the gazer's eye." 

"Hard and hye" the mountains do rise and tower above the luxurious vallev of 
" pastor grounds." Xot so long ago all the streets of Abergavenny were narrow 
and crooked, but of late years there has been a great display of public enterprise. 
Whether the changes that have been effected are to be regarded as improvements 
is questionable ; for with the wideiiing of the thorouglifarcs and the building of 
a new town hall and markets, and so forth, the individuality of a town is apt 
to disappear; but the residents may be pardoned for thinking themselves to 
be nmch better off than were their forefathers. To he sure, the town has scanty 
remains of a castle rising from a tree-clad liill to o^■erlook the houses and the river. 
Part of the castle area is covered with houses, and another part has been converted 
into public gardens. Tiie associations of the fortress are none of the nolilest, for 
historians tell us that " it was dishonoured by treason oftener than anv other castle 
in Wales." It seems to have been the practice of the Norman lords of Abergavennj' 
Castle to invite neighl)Ouring Welsh chiefs to feasts within the walls of the strong- 
hold, and then treacherously nuirdcr tliem. Wood tells of one of the most dastardly 
of these deeds. " Soon after the murder of Trahacrn Veclian, at Slansavaddon lake, 
by William de Braosc (lord of Abergavenny Castle), the Welsh, inflamed with resent- 
ment and revenge, commanded by Sitsylt ap Dyfnwald and other AVelsh chieftains, 
surjwised the Castle of Abergavenny, and took the whole gai-rison prisoners. William 
de Braosc recovered his castle by comjiosition ; and after the reconciliation of the 
Welsh lords to King Henry, a.d. 1175, he invited Sitsylt, his son Geofrey, and 
other men of note to a feast, under pretence of congratulation upon the late j^eace; 
when, contriving cause for dispute, he called upon liis men, who were ready for 
that purpose, and most treacherously murdered the unsuspicious and unarmed Welsh; 
then proceeded to Sitsylt's house, slew his son Cadwallader in his mother's presence, 
and, setting fire to the houfse, carried her away to his castle." 

Once upon a time Abergavenny was noted for flannels, l)ut tliis industry has 
been wrested from it Ijy more enterpri.sing competitors, while the manufacture of 
wigs, for which it was once noted, has succumbed to change of fashion. St. Mary's 
Church, a fine fourteenth-century chui-ch, occupying the site of a Norman church 
which was attached to a lienedictino priory, contains nianj'^ ancient monuments, 
anionffst others that of Sir liidiard Herbert of Coldbrook, who, touetiier with his 


brother, was beheaded, after the Battle of Banbury, in 1469 ; and in the Herbert 
chapel is *'a Jesse tree," of which MuiTay's "Handbook" says that it is "perhaps 
one of the most perfect extant." 

Leaving this lovely town, the Usk makes more directly for the sea. A few 
miles away to the east, in the valley of one of its tributaries, are the ruins of 
Raglan Castle, standing on a richly-wooded eminence not far from the village of 
the same name. It was begun not earlier than the reign of Henry V., and 
apparently not finished until the time of Charles I. ; and so strong was it that it 
had the distinction of being one of the last fortresses in the kingdom to surrender 
to Cromwell's men. It would be interesting to recall the story of the siege which 
it endured, and to describe the lovely remains of it ; but it lies too far out of 
GUI' course, and we must return to our river and follow it through the pretty scenery 
it traverses to the town to which it has lent its name. In days long gone 
by, Usk had to Ijear many a sore blow from Owen Cllendower, but now it has 
no more alarming invaders than the placid, contemplative wielders of the rod — 
for here the Usk is famous for its salmon and its trout. Standing upon a tongue 
of land formed by the confluence of the Ohvey with the main stream, Usk has 
been identifled with a Roman station ; and though the evidences are external 
rather than internal, the theory has been almost universally accepted of anti- 
quaries. Of its castle, occupying a commanding site near the river, and still 
retaining its outer walls in very fair preservation, with the gateway, towers, and 
keep, the precise origin is not known ; but in the reign of Henry III. it was in 
the hands of Robert de Clare, Earl of Gloucester. From this family it passed to 
the IMortimers, Earls of March, and in the reign of Henry VI. was granted to 
Richard, Duke of York, as nephew of the last of the Mortimers. It became a 
favom-ite residence of this personage, and is believed to have been the birthplace 
of Edward IV. and other princes. Of the scathe which Owen Grlendower had 
wrouglit at Usk we have already spoken, but it remains to add that the citizens 
were at last avenged, for here he sustained a crashing defeat and had to flee to 
the mountains. 

Flowing beneath the ancient stone bridge sliowu in our view (page 136), the 
river passes on, through scenery that is never less than pleasant, to Caerleon, prettily 
placed on the right bank; and here the Usk takes toll of the Afon. Caerleon is 
one of the most interesting spots in all this part of Wales. Here was quartered 
the second Augustan legion, and this was the principal Roman town in the 
country of the Silures. In those days it must have been a place of great magnifi- 
cence and refinement as well as of war, for Giraldus Cambrensis, writing in the 
twelfth centmy, tells s>i the remains of splendid palaces, baths, theatres, and other 
public buildings ; and though these have all vanished, an abundance of Roman relics 
has been unearthed, which are treasiu-ed in a museum that has been built by an 
antiquarian society ; and bits of the wall are still to be seen in situ. But the 
legendary associations of Caerleon are even more memorable than its history; for 



[The Tsk. 

~K (/. 1 

licre it was, according to one Aversion of the Arthurian myth, tliat tlie Britisli iiriuce, 
when, after the -w-ithdi-a-wal of the legions, the land was laid waste by the " lieutlien 
hosts "' and by the warfare of the native princes — 

" Tliro' the puissance of his Table Round 
Drew all their petty princedoms under him, 
Their king and head, and made a realm and reigned." 

Tlie Roman amphitlieatre consists of a grassy hollow enclosed by a bank, 
lying just outside the wall on the cast; "Arthur's Round Table" is a bank 
of earth some sixteen feet high. There is no reason to doubt that after 
the Koman era Caerleon became the centre of one of tlic British kingdoms. At a 
later time it was " threatened by the Heet of Alfred, which, h(jwever, was recalled 
home before making an attack. In earl}^ days it had its martyrs — 8t. Julius and St. 
Aaron — and afterwards it became tlie seat of a bishopric, which for some time 
enjoyed the honour of being the Metropolitan See of AValcs. After tlu' Xornuui 
( 'onque-st Caerleon Avas a frequent bone of contention between the Welsli and the 
invaders, and was alternately taken and retaken. A castle was Kaill hmc by (ine 
(.f the Norman barons; but it was not until tlie reign of l>d\vard I. that tlie 
I'higlish obtained undisturbed possession of the town, Avhich, prior to the Ijuilding of 
a castle at Newport, was a j^lacc of considerable strategic importance." * 

• "Our Own Country," Vol. V. 

The XJsk.] 



By this time the Usk has become a tidal stream with a rapidly wideniii;o^ 
valley; and now it follows a devious com-se through rich meadows with wooded 
hills on either hand. A tomb in Christchurch, on the road connecting Caerleon and 
Newport, was long believed to have miraculous powers of cure for sick children who 
touched the sepulchre on the eve of the Ascension ; and in 1770 as many as sixteen 
children were laid upon it to pass the night. Newport, four miles from the mouth 
of the river, owes its prosperity mainly to the great output of iron and coal from 
the interior of "Wales that comes here for shipment. It has many railways to wait 
upon it, and its facilities in this kind have been greatly increased by the construction 
of the Severn Tunnel ; and it is also furnished with abundant dock accommodation. 
Of the castle, built by Robert, Earl of Gloucester, a natural son of Henry I., to 
conunand the Usk, some of the walls and towers still remain, close to the famous 
bridge of five arches, reared at the beginning of the century and widened and im- 
proved in 1866; but the greater part of the stronghold has been either demolished 
or converted into business premises. The record of the town is, for the most part, 
one of peace and commercial development, and contains few episodes of violence, 
except the attack upon it by the Chartists led by John Frost in the year 1839. 
The tower of the church of St. Woollos, standing on an eminence overlooking the 
valley of the Usk and the Bristol Channel, is said by Wood to have been built 
by Henry III. in gratitude to the inhabitants of this place and surrounding districts, 

■--^:Jifc. " 

Fhoto : Fnth a 



[The TTsk. 

who, by a victory over Ms enemies, relieved liim from captivity. Newport may 
not have great attractions to offer to the tomist, but in these later days it has 
not been mindful only of money-maldng-, as one may see from tlie many public 
buildings with which it has provided itself. 


Leaving Newport, the Usk wanders through a plain of no particular interest, 
scenically .speaking, and almost at its enibouehuro is joined by th(> vivcr I->bbw, 
wliich, ri.sing on tlic liorder of Brecknockshiic in two licadsi reams lliat iniiic near 
I.lanhilleth, has run a .some twenty-t'uur nilU's long. Tims reinii)rced, 
merges itself in the lar^jer life of the Bristol Cliaunel. E. W. Sahel. 



Brecknock Beacons — The Tapp : Taff Fawr and Taff Fechan — Cardiff Keservoirs — INIerthj'r— The Dowlais Steel and Iron 
"Works — The RhondJa — Pontypridd— CastoU Coch — LlandafE and its Cathedral — Cardiff and its Castle. The Neath : 
Ystradfollte— The Mcllte and its Affluents— The Cwm Forth— Waterfalls and Cascades— The Sychnant— Tont Neath 
Vaughan — Neath and its Abhey — The Dulas and the Cl5'dach. Swansea and its Docks — Moniston Castle — Swansea 
Castle — The Mumbles and Swansea Bay. The Tawe : Craig-y-Nos— Lly-Fan Fawr. The Towy : Ystradffin — 
Llandovery — Llandilo — Dynevor Castle — Carmarthen and Richard Steele — Carmarthen Bar. The Taf : Milford 
Haven — Carew Castle — Pembroke Castle — Monkton Priory— New Milford and Old Milford — Haverfordwest. The 
Teifi : Strata Florida Abbey — Newcastle Emlyn — Cenarth — Cardigan. The Ystwith : The Upper Waters — 

l)i)ld-lieaded, ruddy Brecknock Beacons and tlieir neighbouring 
lieiglits of the Fforest Fawr are, between them, to be held 
responsible for the nativity of three important streams of South 
Wales : the Taff, the Neath, and the Tawe. Not one of these streams 
is navigable, and they all have courses trivial enough compared 
with the Severn, the Usk, or the Wye. They are, however, quite 
strangely remarkable for their natural beauty, and for the scars on 
their beauty due to the mineral wealth of the valleys they drain. 
Nowhere in Great Britain is there more fascinating glen scenery or 
more sequestered and picturesque waterfalls than on the Neath and its tributaries. 



[The Tafp. 

Yet Xcath itself is a grimy town, and the river, which, ten miles to the north, 
■wins admiration from everyone, here flows discolom-ed amid ironworks and coal 
mines, with all their ugly rubbish heaps. The Ta£P and the Tawe begin among 

heather and bracken, loftily 
and crystal clear ; and they 
end alike, brown as canals 
in manufacturing districts, 
tlie one among- the ship- 
l^ing of Cardiff, and the 
other in the blackest and 
most forbidding part of 

In all Wales there is 
no finer little group of 
mountain -tops than the 
Brecknock Beacons, as seen 
from the south. Pen-y- 
Fan, the highest summit, 
stands 2,910 feet above sea- 
level, and 500 feet less 
above the town of Brecon, 
some five miles to the 
north. The Beacons are an 
isolated society, se})arated 
by the Usk and its valley 
from the Black Forest 
Mountains east, and by the 
deep Glvn Tarel from the 
irregular mountain mass 
whence Tawe springs to the 
light. Their bases lie set 
among charming pastoral 
nooks. Above, they are 
good to see when autunni 
has made tawny the acres 
of their bracken ; and at 
the sunnnits they vie with each other in the redness of their precijjices, that of 
Pen-}-l-'an rightly winning the day with a sheer slide of rock some 6(t() feet deep, at 
uu angle of about 70 degrees. 

^fany arc the legends that aninmte the lieacons. Enougli if we Ix'lieve with 
certain of the bards tliat it was here, on Pen-y-Fan. tliat Arthur called Ins chivalry 
together, and initiated the Order of tlie Knights of tlie Kound Table. In the land 


The Taff] 



of tlie Red Dragon, centuries ago, there could be no higher dignity than to be 
associated with him who was to appear for the glory of Britain : " the lamp in 
darkness " : — 

" In forest, mountain, and in camp. 
Before tliem moved the Burning Lamp ; 
In blackest night its quenchless rays 
Beckoned them on to glorious days." 

Having clambered, not without considerable exertion, to Pen-y-Fan, the 
traveller, if he feels tliirsty, lias but to turn his l)ack to the nortli, face the distant 

Pholo : F. Bi'ilfonl, III pen 

I ofCathcnitt £ PrUflwrJ. I'lirxfrr. 


smoke clouds above the hills of Merthyr and Rliymney, and walk a few yards down 
the western slope of the mountain. Here are two ice-cold springs, the parents of 
baby rivulets. Below you see how briskly these rivulets broaden and unitedly carry 
the pure water to the south. Tliis is, in fact, one of the two main soui'ces of 
the Taff. The other also is on the Beacons. The two streams, Taff Fawr and 
Taff Fechan (the "Great" and "Little" Taff), run parallel, in respective glens, 
among heather and rocks, for eight or ten miles, to join just above Merthyr. 
Pollution of all kinds comes to the stream as soon as it is thus fully entitled to be 
called the Taff. 

Even before Merthyr is reached, Taff Fawr has learnt something of the pains 




[The Taff. 

and penalties of an industrial district. Ere it has run five miles from its source, 
it falls into the hands of the Cardiff Corporation. Its valley is here a characteristic 
mountain glen, with heathery solitudes on either side, and little clefts among the 
heather by Avhich nameless affluents bring their pure tribute to the main stream. 
Houses there arc none. But of a sudden, in all this loneliness, you come to a 
huge dam l)uilt and building across the valley from east to west, and beyond you 
perceive the goodlv lake of -which the rising dam is to he tlio uiightv northern 

Yet farther south are other evidences of Cardiff's great thirst. < Mir Taff is 

again encloseil, and flows 
tlu'ough a second reservoir, 
proceeding out of it by a 
series of ])i'e})ared water- 
falls, not un})icturesque, 
tliough tliev liave artificial 
Hagged beds and ]irecise 
parapets. Here, however, 
one may almost look one's 
last at Taff tlie pellucid. 
The area of toil and sophis- 
tication is at hand. Yet 
some four miles above 
Merthvr tlie rivi^r has one 
notalile reach of beauty. 
There is a ruined turnpike 
house to liint of the thne 
of " liebccca," when this 
part of ^Vales rose in 
arms and fought toll-bars 
as ancient ^Vales fought the 
Normans of the ^Marches; 
and high above the wrecked house are some precipitous limestone clift^s, with 
jackdaws always circling about their crests. Taff lies in a deep lud lure, witli 
woods on the western .slopes Avhere its waters wash them. It rose m tlie old icd 
sand.stone of the Beacons: it has lujw come to the carboniferous limestone and 
to the (;oal-niea.sures to which South Wales owes its phenoimnal prosperity. 

^fcrthyr would be a pretty j.lace if it were not sullied l)y smoke l)cyond 
redemption. The hills, .studded with chimneys, cumber each other ; and ni all the 
adjacent hollows, high up and low down, arc manufactories. The jxople wear clogs. 
.\s in other .such busy centres, they seem hitppy enough, and l>y no means tearful 
about the local desecration of Nature. But it must be admitted thai they are 
LM-iniv. like their enviroiiinent. 

^ /> r s T n I 

iiivi;r< i)F south wales. 

The Taff.] 



Of all the large manufactories round Merthyr, those of the Dowlais Steel and 
Iron Works, two miles away (a constant ascent), are the most considerable. One 
may doubt, perhaps, if these are now the largest of their kind in the world, but 
they are still very extensive. A recent report tells us that they consist of 
eighteen blast furnaces, jjroducing about 700 tons of ii-on and 2,400 tons of steel rails 
per week, and that their collieries can lift 3,700 tons of coal daily. Founded aliout 
a hundred and fifty years ago, they have been a staff of life to millions. Few 
sights of the kind are more impressive than the manipulation here of the huge cruses 
of molten steel, and the methodical treatment of the ores, which develop in a few 
hours into red-hot steel rails from thii'ty to sixty yards long ; or than the cutting 
of these substantial rails into sections by a serrated disc which makes some 1,600 
revolutions a minute. 

The "Dowlais Lights," as they are called, flash at times high over the mountains 
to the north. The landlord of the little inn at Devynnock called the writer out 
at night to see them. " It's a sign of rain, for certain," he said. Tradition 
locally lays down this law ; but tradition often errs, and on this occasion the Dowlais 
lights, seen here twenty miles away, were, as it chanced, the augurs of a glorious 
autumnal morrow. 

From iMerthyr downwards Taff flows fast, as if anxious to reach the sea from 
the uncomely rows of colliers' cottages Avhich rise so thickly above it. It is still 
hedged about by mountains, but the mountains are not now "things of beauty." 
Quaker's Yard, Aberdare Junction, and Ponty- 
pridd are names of industrial value. At each 
of these places, " coal " railways from lateral 
valleys join the Taff Vale line. With these 
tributaiy railways descend tributaries for the 
Taff itself, the river Rhondda (which itself 
bifurcates higher up into the Rhondda Fawr 
and Fechan) being the most noteworthy for the 
volume of its water. The scenery of these 
affluents is, like that of the Taff itself, im- 
posing, with deep glens and wooded dingles, 
but mercilessly cut about by caj^italists. 

Pontypridd deserves particular mention for 
the famous bridge which gives it its name. In 
the words of a specialist, this bridge "is a 
perfect segment of a circle, and stretches its 
magnificent chord of l-iO feet across the bed 
of the Taff, rising like a rainbow from the steep 
bank on the eastern side of the river, and 
gracefully resting on the western — -the beau ideal 
of architectural elegance." It is the supreme 



[The Tafp. 

achievement of a local stonemason named Kdwanls, wlio, a liundred and fifty years 
ago, devoted himself to the construction of hridoes much as a mediaval artist 
devoted himself to the ^Madonnas of his canvases or to liis crucifixes. .South Wales 
owes much to Edwards the bridge-builder: we shall meet with his work on the 
Towy and the Teifi as well as here. In ITo.") this "beau ideal of architectural 
elegance'' showed to better advantage than now. when it is surrounded by the 
common buildings of a mining town ; but it was never more ust^ful tli;ui at present. 

Hence, now wide in a 
shallow bed, and now nar- 
row and rushing deeply 
l)etweeu higli banks, gaily 
wooded in places and mere 
refuse-heaps in others, TaS 
speeds towards Llandaff. 
Three or four miles ere it 
comes to this tranquil spot, 
a striking crag is seen on 
its left bank, witli glorious 
beech Avoods clothing the 
steep red slopes of the rock. 
This is an historic spot : 
Cast ell C'ucli, or the Red 
Castle. It is such a site 
as in Rhineland would at 
one tinu' have given a 
robber-baron a su})erl) base 
for his dcjircdatioiis. As 
such, in fact, it was utilised. 
We read how. in 11.58, Ivor 
Bach of Ca.stell Coch descendcil iijjon Cardiff Castle and carried off the Karl and <>f TJloucester as prisoners : the event is set forth on canvas in the 
Cardiff' Town Hall. Nowadays the turret that rises above the tojnnost trees of the 
crag tells of other exploits. Castell Coch belongs to tlu> ]\ of Bute, and it is 
here that the wine is grown which, in the opinion of some, is convincing proof that 
England might, if .she would, become a viniferous countrv. In tlic Cardiff' Exhilution 
of LSiJfi a stall was devoted to the sale of Castell Coch wines. 

But the graceful spire and tf)W('r of Llandaff soon ap])ear. in tlic midst of green 
meadows and lofty old trees, to tell of yet other aspirations, witli the myriad houses 
of exj)anding Cardiff" beyond. Its name describes it: id;ni-ar-l)af, "the churcli on 
the Taff.'' It has been spoken of "as the nu).st ancient episcojnd .see remaining on 
its orijrinal site in (Ji-e;it Uritain." The old iccords go far to acclaim Llandalf as 
both venerabh' ami ancient. Lu<'iiis, the i^reaf-urandson of ('aractacus, in the .second 

Tin; I'AL.^CE GATEWAY, LLAXDAl !■ {j>. lG(i). 

The Taff.] 



century a.d., endowed, we are told, four cliurchcs from the royal estates, one being 
Llandaff. A bishop of LlandafP is also said to have died a martyr in the Diocletian 
persecution. And yet, witli such high associations, forty years ago this cathedral 
was the most desolate and neglected in the land. As it stands, it is eloquent of 
the whole-hearted labours of two men, chiefly: Dean Conybeare and Dean Williams. 
Previous to 1857, the cathedral was a pic- 
turesque iWed ruin of Perpendicular tower 
and Early-English roofless walls, with 
a ghastly eighteentli-centurv conventicle 
absorbing what is now half the nave and 
the east end of the building. The grand 
old Xornum doorways south, north-east, and 
west, cUid d-io the 1o^^el, seemed to lia\e 

Piwto: Alfred Freke, Cardiff. 

CAEDIFP CASTLE (j). 166). 

outlived their vocation ; and the Norman arch of the interior, above the present altar 
— perhaps the finest thing in Llandaff — was plastered up and totally expunged. The 
present cathedi'al owes its origin to the Norman bishop Urban (1107-33), Avho was 
dissatisfied witli the church — 28 feet long, 15 feet broad, and 20 feet high — to the 
throne of which lie had been raised ; and its remarkable restoration to the Llandaff 
architect, John Pritchard. of recent times. It can no longer be described as, by 
Bishop Bull in 1697, " our sad and miserable cathedral." Alike within and out- 
side it satisfies by its beauty and good order. The old and the new are well 
blended here. 



[Thk Taff. 

As a village. Llamlaif is now lunxlh- imiilit oxccpt a flourishing- siiburh of 
Cardiff. Still, it keeps its indiviiluality, and declines to be incorporated with the 
great invading town. The remains of the old episcojjal palace and the old market- 
cross consort amicably with the one or two single-storeyed thatched cottages of the 
WUage square. The palace gateway has quite a baronial look, but it leads to 
nothing of particular interest. Bishopscourt, the modern palace, is a more cosy 

residence than that built 



Vhdlo: raUnliHcd : 


by Bishop John do la 
Zouch early in the 
fifteenth century, of 
which tliis gateway is the 
iiiost conspicuous relic. 

Of Cardiff, what can 
be said adequately in few 
words? It began the century 
with about a thousand in- 
]ial)itants; in ISSI its popu- 
lation was <S-J,()71 : and now 
it is aljout double as much. 
The Romans had a fort here, which 
tlie Welshmen called ( 'acr Didi, 
(jf tlic fort of Didius (Aulas I)idius): 
hence. Caerdydd and CavdilV. Fitz- 
hamon the Nornuin, about lOO"), 
erected the castle, the substantial 
fragments of which adorn the grassy courtyard of the numsion of the Marquess of 
Bute, who — more than ^[organ ap Rhys, or Fitzhamon, who dispossessed ]\Iorgan — may 
well be called the lord of Cardiff. The prosperity of the present town began with 
the canal and sea-lock, earlv in ibis century, which enabled Merthyr to send its 
coal abrf)ad ; but it was guaranteed In' the enterprise of the father of tin- actual 
-Marquess of Bute, who expended millions in the construction of docks. Within the 
memory of men still living there was tidal mud close to the stately, if lisarre, outer 
wall of the Marcpie.s.s's residence, with its glass-eyed effigies of wild beasts perched 
on the .stones, liut the "Welsh Metropolis."' as Cardiff loves to call itself. Avill not 
again .see those times. 

One cannot con.scientiously say that there is nmch of romantic or even artistic 
interest in this thriving town — the castle, with its Asiatic richness of decoration, 
apart. But the plac«' is at interesting, in its acres of docks, its prodigious 
machinerv for the control of water-power and for the lading of vessels, and even 
its long ugly road f»f mean houses connecting it with the town of lUite Docks. This 
la«t is u co.smopolitan di.strict. Coal is in demand everywhere, and it is ])re-eminently 
coal that Cardiff thrives on. In 1.S4'.), oid}- l(l"J,S-2!» tons of it were exported hence; 

The TAvr.] 



in 1895, the amount was 11,067,403 tons. One of the astonishing sights of the Docks 
is to see a raihvay truck full of coal lifted by machineiy as easily as if it were a 
l)oiiny loaf, emptied into the hold of a shij), and then, in less than a minute, be 
succeeded by another truck. 

Cardiff has every incentive and determination to go ahead. 8t. Mary's, the 
main street, can boast of costlv banks and hotels and a very u'rcat deal of traffic. 

PAofo: ih. F,i.,,..:i /; o 


It is singularly noisy at night ; and that also, we presume, is evidence of the 
strong modern spirit of the j^lace. The to^ni in 1S9G indulged in an Ex- 
hibition on such a scale that its loss may be computed in scores of thousands of 
pounds ; but the Exhibition was an investment, and it is a proof of Cardiff's wealth 
that it can afford thus to cast expectantly so many thousands upon the waters. The 
Marquess's castle is as uni(|ue in its splendour as is Cardiff among Welsh towns in 
its development. Of its external towers, one, the Clock Tower (with many quaint 
arrangements for spectacular effect), is as modern as the residential part of the 
building. The other, oi' Black Tower (though it is of white limestone), dates from 
early times. It is also known as tlie Duke Robert Tower, because it was here that 



"The Xeath. 

Robert Duke of Xormaiidy was, by his own brother, Robert of Gloucester, son of 
Henry I., conliued for many }'ecirs. 




TafF has niurli to be proud of as it jiflicles into tlie soa past tlie casth\ tliouiih it 
has, for miles and miles ere tliis, lost its crystal ^mrity. 

The river Nkath, like Taff, rises amonj? lonely mountains, heather, bracken, 
and the bracinjr winds of the ujdands. Tlie three summits of tlie Fforest Fawr 
range — long-backed rid^ros, woeful 1o be lost upon — each liivc iiiiuus 1o llic tribu- 
taries that flcjw from tlunn, and a1 rout Xcath Vau<ilian form IJic JSeatli liver 
proper. Y-Fan-Xedd, Y-Fan-LHii, ;iii(l Y-Fan-Drinf^arth thus beget the Little Xcath 
(the " dd" in Welsh being c(|uivalcnt to our " tli "), tlic Llia, and llic !)iingartli. 

The Xeath.] 



The ivro latter, after about five miles of independence, join just above Ystrad- 
fellte, where another Castell Coch reminds us that Wales had long ages of intestine 
and other strife ere she gave up unfurling the Red Dragon on her hillto2JS. We are 
here in the "fiery heart of Cambria," where the rocks and morasses were such 
mighty fastnesses for the brave Welshmen of old. But these times are long past, 
and Cambria's fiery heart may now be said to depend literally upon the fuel in the 
bowels of the land. 

There is little of exceptional interest in the upper reaches of the Neath's 
tributaries. Maen Llia, or the Stone of Llia, is a huge boulder of granite some 
eleven feet high by the Roman road of Sam Helen, which, far up near the 
source of the Llia, crosses the mountains with the recognised audacity of a Roman 
thoroughfare. But few are the wayfarers, other than reckless tramps, who set eyes 
on this one among the many monoliths that decorate Wild Wales. It is at Ystrad- 
fellte that the wonders of the Neath's scenery begin. This little village stands 
more than 900 feet above the sea-level, and the Mellte (as Llia and Dringarth 
conjoined are named), in its fall of nearly 500 feet in the five miles between 
Ystradfellte and Pont Neath Vaughan, is a succession of pictures so lovely, and 
yet so confined, that they excite as much admiration as despair in the mind of 
the artist who comes to paint them. The Little Neath runs parallel with the 
Mellte during this course, separated from it by a high ridge, and scarcely a mile 
apart. This stream also gallops in a rocky bed, with soaring woods on both banks, 

NEATH AbllEV I'/J. 1|"1). 

170 EirERS OF GREAT BRITAIN. [The Mellte. 

and with waterfalls here and tliere of much beauty. But the ^fellte and its two 
atttuents, the llepste and tlie Sychnant, quite put the Little Neath in the shade 
in this resjieet. You may see it for yourself, and also judge by the opinions 
expressed without reserve by the many colliers and tlieir families who come hither, 
on picnic bent, from Ilirwain and even Jlerthyr, over the hi<>h eastern hills. The 
Vale of Xeath would be accounted a wonder if it were in Middlesex. But its 
remoteness keeps nietrojiolitan tourists aloof; its charms are for the local colliers, 
and few besides. 

The C"wm Forth, or '' river cavern," a mile below Ystradfellte, is the lirst of the 
Mellte's marked eccentricities. The combination of rocks and water and wood, with 
the added element of danj^er in exploring!: this rugged, echo-haunted ])erforation in 
the cliff, are attractive in the extreme to the able-bodied traveller. Mellte, in tini(> 
of flood, carries a deal of amber- tinted Avater in its rocky bed, and Cwm Porth is 
not in the hands of a company who charge for admittance, and guarantee smoothed 
paths, and ropes and handrails where tliere is a risk of broken limbs. This, indeed, 
is the best of the ilellte: you feel as if you are on virgin soil while .scrambling 
at a venture in its steep Avoods, now on the edge of the roaring little stream tifty 
feet .sheer above a Avaterfall, and now midAvay in the river itself, i)erched on a 
rock, A\-ith vistas of Ijoisterous Avater up and down, and the river's banks, Avooded 
to the .sky-line, hundreds of feet on either hand, at an aniile ol' fortx-live or lifty 
degrees. The Avriter, on one memorable 8epteml)er afteriionn, was fur Imiirs alone 
in AA'oods, passing from Avaterfall to waterfall, mure b\- instinct than sure 
guidaiu-e, Avith the gold and bi'unze and crimson of foliage c()n.stantly betwixt 
him and the blue autumnal sk\" ; nor did he see sign of other human being than 
himself, nor more than one wliite farmstead, Avhen he climbed above the 
trees and returned to the Ijleak and bare uplands beyond. The squirrels ran from 
bough to bough, the birds chirped in the infrequent grassy glades, Avlu^re the sun- 
light nuule a Ijright spot in the midst of this dense, damp rhade, and the waters 
fllled the glen AA'itli their clamour. In all England there is nothing of its kind .so 
admirable as the seclu.sion and l)eaut\' of this gorge of the Mellte, with its 
tributary, the Ilep.ste, to the east. 

Categorically, the chief waterfalls mav be menlioiied lhu>: the ( 'hni (iw\n Falls 
— Uj)]jer, Middle, and Lower — and the two Falls of (he llepste. One cannot descril)e 
such things; each of five has such individuality and beauty that on seeiuL;- 
it you i)refer it to the others. Tlieir framing is perfect. Even the henm that 
gathers up its long legs and whips across the stream out of your Avay is nut wanted 
to complete your satisfaction in such pictures. Vet in a three miles' IliLilit a cmw 
would reach coal mines and .swart heaps of .-ucli refuse as yuu would not (hcam 
<-ould lie within sr-orcs of miles of these divine .solitudes. 

The great (Jilliej».ste Fall, otherwise Y.sgwd-yr-Eira (the Spuut of Snow), 
though the best known of the \a]ley'.s cascades, is, in llie writers opiiilun. tlie least 
convincing. The Avater is to.ssed in one curve over a ledge of rock, and falls 

TheXeath.] the MELLTE and the 8YCHNANT. 171 

about 45 feet into a basin, -whence it moves downwai'ds to the far finer succession 
of furious white steps known as the Lower He^Dste Falls. The woods in autumn 
clasp it amphitheatrically with their green and gold. There is no fault anywhere. 
There is also this added eccentricity : you may walk under the Fall from one side of 
the river to the other. The writer did it in time of lieavy flood, and was soaked 
for liis pains. Afterwards he clambered, not easily, down to the Lower Falls, tlie 
disarray of which was much more to his taste. The Ysgwd-yr-Eira ^\■()uld please 
more if it liad a flaw. As it is, it looks as if Nature and man had conspired to 
make a cascade witli surroundings that should be a model of their kind. Yet even 
this criticism — which may well be held to be of the bilious order — will by most be 
regarded as highly flattering to the Spout of Snow. 

After the Mellte, one is not profoundly stirred by the Falls and sylvan graces 
of the Little Neath and its tributary, the Perddyn. Yet thev, too, are beautiful, 
especially the cascades of Scwd Gwladys (the Lady's Fall) and Scwd Einon Gam 
(Ci'ooked Einon's Fall), in the latter stream. 

The Syclmant, however, is a sensational little river. It joins the Mellte at the 
foot of a rocky precipice, Craig Dinas, which, even with its mere 170 feet of per- 
pendicular rock, may be warranted to yield a thrill. From the grassy, hawthorned 
summit of Craig Dinas, one may peer into the deep-cut bed of the Sychnant, where 
this cleaves through the mountains from Hirwain, and also see its brace of waterfalls. 
But the glen is well-nigh impassably dense with undergrowth and trees, and bound 
about with precipices as emphatic, though not as high, as Craig Dinas. Where the 
Sychnant comes to the light from this dark embedded dingle, it is sadly spoiled by 
quarrymen and others. But even these enterprising gentlemen will fight shy of 
its higher recesses, especially as they have nothing to gain by the intrusion. 

Pont Neath Vaughan is a snug little village, with none of the airs it might 
assume in pride of its position as key to the glories of these glens of the Neath. 
Its inns are homely, modest buildings. South, for the ten or twelve miles to the sea, 
the river Neath flows through a broad and lovely valley, with wooded or bare 
mountains on both sides. From Cefn Hirfynydd (west) and Craig-y-Lljm (east) 
many a dashing little stream, with miniature cascades, makes great haste to swell 
the main river. But collieries are here, as well as fascinating scenery, and it is 
impossible to overlook them and their smoke. 

The town of Neath neither gives to nor gains from its river much distinction 
Avhere this moves through its midst, brown, and with tidal mud on its banks. It is a 
colliery town, pm-e and simple, surprisingly furnished with public -houses. The 
fragments of its castle that survive are pent about by dismal slums, so that a man 
must have a very keen antiquarian sense to discover them. Nor are they much when 
found: just a gateway with its towers, the whole prettily hugged by ivy. Richard 
Grenville, of Bideford, who founded it in the twelfth century, would not care 
to see it now. 

Hence to the much more grandiose ruins of the Cistercian Abbey of St. Mary 



[The Keath. 

and tl\o Holy Trinity, wliirli also owed its origin to tlio samo liicluird 
Grenville, is a walk of a mile or more — not a rural walk. l)v anv means. You mav, 
if you will, take a tram-car thither, with collier-lads or their womenfolk for your 
companions, and with black mud on the roadway. The ruins stand close-girt by 
canals and mines and ironworks. Leland describes the ablxy as. in his day, the 
fairest in ^Yales : and in the year l-JOO its glories, and especially the sweetness of its 

(H TSKIllTS ()!■ NEATH. 

convent bells, were l)ardic themes. Never was there so abject a change; and yet, 
after the Dissolution, when it fell to tlic lot of Sir liichard Cromwell, nephew of 
Ilenrv VIII. "s minister and great-grandfather of Oliver, it was for lon^- an a])pre- 
ciated residence. The white stone mullions of the many windows ot the parts of 
the abbey added bv Sir 1'. lloby, in HJ.jO or .so, still gleam against the dark grit- 
stone of the walls. 

In spite of its .<ordid surrouiiilings, however. Xeatli .Vblu'V is not (les])irable. 
The area of its ruins imjiresses; the jagged towering ends of tlic ivied walls of its 
church, with daws croaking about them, and the long-desolate aisle, tangled with 
coarse gras.s and brandjles, are also impressive. The ecclesiastics who sleep in Neath 
Abbey may be said to lie fathoms deep under the accunmlated soil. Not a trace of 
one of them remains above the surface. Tlie dark refectory of their convent, with 
its pillared roof, stands jjrettv nni<-li as it did in llie sixlcentli centur\'. and of itself 
would dignifv ihr- ruins. iJiit edio alone iV'asts in its damp, sonilire liall. One 

The Tawe.] 



reineinbers that it was here our Edward II. sought shelter after his evasion of 
Caerphilly Castle, and that it was a Neath monk who betrayed him into that terrible 
custody of Berkeley Castle, where death awaited him ; and, remembering this, one 
is inclined to be sentimental, and to talk about the curse that broods over the Neath 
Abbey ruins. In trutli, however, smoke is the main brooder here. 



The river Neath glides on to its estuary by Briton Ferry, some two miles 
distant from the town. Hills escort it right to the sea— not all witli smoking 
chimneys on them. The town is indeed quite uniquely hemmed round with beauty, 
as well as ugliness. Up the valleys of the Dulas and the Clydach, slim streams 
which join the Neath near its mouth, are nooks and recesses as winsome as those 
of the Mellte itself ; and once on the tops of the mountains, in any dii-ection, the 
pedestrian may readily forget coal and iron. 

It is but seven or eight miles from Neath to Swansea, where the Tawe comes 
to its end, foully enough, amid ironworks and " coalers." One may, for con- 
venience sake, make the jom-ney, and later rise with the river to its source. 
There is more satisfaction in seeing it gradually purify than in watching its 
progress from pellucidity to pollution; from the sweet-aired heather hills wliere 


Adelina Patti has fixed her quiet home, to the suljihureous atmosphere of Landore 
and Hafod. 

Swevn's Ea (Sweync's Eye or Inlet), Aber Tawe — or Swansea, as we modern 
English call it — is not what it was when Sweyne the King and Rover Avas wont to 
come hither as a base for his forays into the vales of South Cambria. Still, it can, 
if it cares to, brag stoutly of its ancient enlistment in the ser\'ice of carbon. In 
i;iO.") it received a charter from William de Brews (Brcos), great-grandson of the 
fainous Lord ^Marcher, " to have ])it coal." That was beginning an industrial 
career earlv indeed. Four centuries later, in 170U, its jurisdiction as a port extended 
from Uxwich, in the Gower peninsula, to Chepstow — of course, including the 
then miborn and unthought-of Cardiff. It began to smelt copper in 1504, thanks 
to a charter given by Queen Elizabeth ; and it is to copper and shipping, (juite as 
much as to its position at the mouth of a great coalfield (estimated still to Iiold 
19,200,000,000 tons of fuel underground), that Swansea owes its fine fortunes and 
its jiopulation of about a hundred tliousand. 

It seems an ungracious thing to say, but Swansea is apparently somewliat 
hamjiered bv its aiitii|uit\'. In tlie struggle for suprenuicv witli Cardiff, it has not 
had Cardiff's free hand in the matter of laying out a new town ; nor, one nuiy add, 
quite that powerful vigour of youth Avhich carries all before it. Hence, it has 
already been left behind. The Duke of Beaufort is not such a potentate in Swansea 
as the Marquess of Bute in Cardiff; yet he stands to tliis city somewhat like the 
Marquess to Cardiff. It was a Duke of Beaufort wlio cut the first sod of the 
North Dock, or Town-Float, in 1852; and his Grace has large representation in tlic 
Swansea Harbour, which has charge of the city's port affairs. The hite 
Lord Swansea, speaking on behalf of this Corporation, once said: "Swansea, you 
may depend upon it, is destined to become the Ocean Port of England." Cardiff, 
at any rate, laughs such words to scorn, and even a layman of England may be 
allowed to think tlie prophecy over-sanguine. The North Dock has an area of 
14 acres, and is " comiccted with a half-tide basin of two and a half acres by a lock 
100 feet long and 50 feet wide, having at its seaward entrance gates of (50 feet, 
with a depth of 2'j feet over the .sill at spring-tides and Ki I'ect at ncajjs." Tliis 
is, of course, but One of Swansea's docks, and by no means thi' most important 
of them. Cardiff's docks are undoubtedly finer tlian Swansea's, with more gigantic 

Swansea, thougli ani"it*nt, possesses few relics of its jiast. Tlie castle tower, in 
the main .street, with a clock .set in it, is the chief of tliem. In tlic ];\vj;c liall 
of the Koyal Institution of Soutli Wales — one of Swansea's many meritorious 
estal)lishments — niay be seen divers drawings aiul engravings of the city one, two, 
and three centuries ago. In nit <>\' tliim tlir caslU' towers stand up as if ihcy still 
had the feudal faith strong in llicni. (ircen, plca.sant, wooded hills i'onu the 
invariable background, flow clianged the land.scape now! The green hills an' gone; 
cut bare an<l covered witli mean nieclianic tenements or .smokini; manufactories. 

The Tawe.] MORBISTOX ; THE MU:\rBLES. 175 

On the summit of the most consjDicuous of them are a few gaunt walls, which be- 
night may, witli the help of a glamorous moon, come near being deceptively 
pictm-esque. This is the so-called Morriston Castle, three miles north of the city, 
yet with the black suburb of Morriston at its feet, an active contributant to 
Swansea's fortunes. The " castle's " history is brief and ignominious. A hundi-ed years 
ago Sir- John ilorris, a maker of tin plates, who gives his name to the suburb, 
erected a lofty and large Iniilding on this breezy hilltop, for the accommodation of 
four-and-twenty of his workmen and their families. Healthier homes these could 
not then have had within easy reach of their daily labour. But the gradient of 
the hill soon wore out their enthusiasm, and, one by one, the families moved doAvn 
on to the level. Then the lodging-house, being abandoned, fell slowly but surelv 
into ruin. The ruin is now ilorriston Castle. 

Swansea's castle has a more conventional history. It was built in its final 
form (which can only l)e conjectured from its remains) by Bishop Gower of St. 
David's, in the fourteenth century. After the usual vicissitudes of disestablished 
castles, it still, until 18-58, offered its dungeons for the confinement of recalcitrant 
debtors. In tliat year even these ^jrivileges were taken from it, and, ever since, 
ci^^lisation has tried to crowd it out of existence. Its body is lost in the various 
buildings and workshops that have encroached upon it, but the graceful arcaded 
clock-tower remains. It gives a pretty touch to Swansea's main street, which it. 

Little more can here be said about Swansea, except that the visitor owes 
it to himself to leave the city (which was made a suffragan bishopric in 1890) 
as soon as possible, and make friends A\ith the Mumbles. The five-mile curve 
of bay thither has been compared to that of the Bay of Xaplos. The com- 
parison is not a modest one. Nevertheless, there is something micommonly 
exhilarating about this Swansea Bay, with the red and white green - topped cliffs 
of the Mmnbles at its south-western liorn. You soon get out of reach of the fumes 
of the city's copper and other metal works. The shipping of the Mumbles has a 
nice clean look after that at the mouth of the Tawe. And, save when tlie Avind is 
north-east, the air is sweet here, as it is bound to be. Mumbles — or Oystermouth, as 
it used to be called — has an attractive old castle of its own, of the Decorated period. 
But it is precious chiefly to Swansea for its sea and tlie lighthouse islets at tlic 
extremity of the headland. The view hence towards the busy city, less than four 
miles across the water, is not gay. Tall chimneys and a dense canopy of smoke : 
such is the Erebus you behold from the pleasant Mumbles cliffs. 

Ere moving up Tawe's valley, it seems quite worth while to tell of Swansea's 
connection with the fortunes of John Murray, the publisher. Gower the poet, Beau 
Nash, and other celebrities, owed their birth to this city ; and it was while living 
here in 1806 that one Mrs. Eandell compiled the " Domestic Cookery," for which 
John Murrav paid her the solid sum of £"J,00(>, and which, Dr. Smiles tells us, was 
very profitable to the young publisher, and helped in a great measure to establish 



[The Tawe. 

his position. It may be added, also, that in the parish churchyard at the Mumbles 
lies the Dr. Thomas Bowdlcr who busied himself so strennonslv witli Sliakosi)earc's 
Plays, and gave to our dictionaries an awkward, ugly word. 

The Tawe cannot be much more than twenty-live miles in 

lengtli, from its source in the lakelet on the Brecknock \'an, or 

^ summit. i>f tlie Fforest Fawr ^Fountains, t(» the Swansea Pocks. 

An fully half its course is throiiLih a colliery district, it nuiy be 

supposed that its claims 
to beauty (-uniot lie of 
the stronii-est. But the 
Neath riviT has taii,i:ht us 
that these South Wales 
streams cannot be judged 
thus sununarilv. One 
must, therelbre, 2^i''>ci't'd 
up the long valley of 
Tawe in the hope of 
cliarins otliev tlian those 
that eiiiaiKite Iroin pit- 
gear, loni:' chinuieys, and 

]\Iorristom has already 
been noticed for its 
" castle." It dcsei'ves a 
word also for its luidge 
over the river. This 
bears the look of one of 
I'ldwards's constructions ; 
its eyelet holes and 
i:i'ac(Mul single curve 
renniid one of Ponty- 
])ri(l(l. I'ldiu I\lon'iston 
to ^ sIradii'N iilais, Tawe is 
coiiliiiuallv liaiiiinelled. 
In one pari lliei'e is a 
cafioii (iT slan' hea])s half 
a mile Ioiil;' I'or it to 
de^eeiid l|iroii;;li. It i< here shallow, and not mure tainted than \(iu would exjiect. 
Till' hills rise in hi;;h lonif banks on llir outer boundaries ol' the \alle\, with 
wodded reaches above the loftv collieries, and crowned b\- the naked rock. .lust 
Koutli oi' 'Wtrad^ix idais the river receives its chief allhient, the Twrch. which has 
as hright and Ir^ni^thy a yontli as 'i'awe itself, rising undei' the ('armartheii \ an, 


The T awe.] 



the rival peak of this Fforest Fawr range, which makes so commanding a mark on 
the two counties of Brecknock and Carmartlien. 

The ascent here begins to be steep, and it is constant to the source. The colUery 
vilhiges become less and less assertive, and the woods greener. By Coelbren a little 
stream hurries to the Tawe through one of those deep, thickly-treed glens which the 
Neath river knows so well. It is an enchanting spot, with the blue and green 


THE Ml Ml;I.E> [j'. 175). 

and russet of Craig-y-Nus across the valley to the north-west. The river gets quite 
near to the palace of our sweetest singer, whose conservatories can be seen gleaming 
for miles. In South Wales Patti holds a court other than that assured to her in all 
the world's capitals. She is at home here. Her photograplis are in the shop- 
windows of Neath and Swansea, and so are the jihotographs of the various luxurious 
rooms of her mountain palace ; and she is praised for other virtues than those that 
proceed from her entrancing throat. People wonder how she can isolate herself here, 


178 RIVERS OF GREAT BiriTATX. [The Towv. 

where collieries are not so remote tliat tliov cannot be seen. But tliat is A(l(>lina 
Patti's affair, and lias nothing to clu MJtli us. She is (|ueon of th(> Tawe vallin-. in 
one sense, as well as tlie world's (jueon remnant of niolodv. At ( "raig-v-Xos. wliicli 
is 700 feet above sea-level, Tawe is distant onlv live or six iimuutainous miles from 
its oriirin. It begins, like the Tnff. witli numerous slender rills from rod cuttings 
in the stony .sides of the bleak uplands, all hurrying together, as if anxious to 
conij)ose a little strength with their divided weakness. But its chief source is the 
lonely tarn (to borrow the North-country word) of Lly-Fan Fawr, which never fails 
to keep it active. This is on the Brecknock Van. On the ("armartlieu Van also there 
is a lake, Lly-Fan Fach, souu> two miles from the source* of Tawe. From Llv-Fan 
Fach comes the Sawddy, one of the Towy's band of tributaries, wliich enters that 
river at Llangadock. 

The Towv. which now claims oui- notice. i>i a far nobler river than the others 
treated in this cliai)ter. From its start in the desolate wet uplands of Cardiganshire 
(less trodden than any other part of (ireat Britain) to the long channel south of 
Carmarthen, where it enters the bay of that name, it knows nothing of sucli jmllution 
as spoils Tawe, Taff, and Neath. It is I'ural from fii'st to last : savaLic almost in its 
upper reaches, beyond Y.stradOin, wlu're it can be explored oul\- at some not incon- 
.siderable ri.sks, and where its lirst company of eager afllaenis rush to it from all 
sides in glens ami defiles, as deep, craggy, and yet beautiful, as its own. Of its 
early affluents, the Doethiau certainly deserves particular mention. llaid by its 
juiu'tion with Towy is a strikingly picturesque wooded hill, one of Wales's nntny 

Ystradffin is .scarcely a village, but it boasts of attaclnnent to tlie memory of a 
seventeenth-century cattle-raider naim^d Twni Shoii Catti (otherwise Tom Jones, the 
son of Catherine), who made use of a cave in the side of the Dinas liv Towv for of conceahnent. This hero of tradition at h>ni:tli dett-rmined to mend his 
ways, and, we arc told, set about it by wooing an heiress. lie secured her lianil 
in the literal .sense, and vowed to cut it off unless she gave it to him in tlie 
matrimonial So stern a court.ship was irresislil)le. Afterwards Twm Shon 
Catti liecame re.spectal)le, and died holding high oHice in the countv. Ibit the 
cave over 'I'owy keeps the memory of his naughty youth and earlv manhood 
.still gi'cen. 

From Ystradliin the river descends circuitoiisly some eleven miles to the 
well-known lisliing and tourist townlet of Llan(lo\(i\, gambolling gail\- in its 
rocky |to«)ls as if re.solvetl to make the most of its youth ere coming; to the long 
grcr'U valley which e.xiciids from l.lamlovery to Cannarthen. lleic it receives 
two voliniiinous aids in the Bran from the north-east, and the (Jwcdderig from 
till-, both yielding jdeasant prospects even Ibr the few miles their \alle\s 
are viHiblc from IJanymddyfri (i.r. "the ('Imrch amid the Wnlers "'), or, as we know 
if, Llanclovery. 


Green hills embrace Llancl()vev\' a.-< if tlun- lovt-d it. The little town is not 
so interesting as its situation, apart from its old inn, the '" Castle," a mellow, 
time-worn house. The very rooms here in -which vou sup on eggs and bacon 
(if vou are lucky enough) may have knowai that worthy, the Vicar of Llandingat, 
who, in the seventeenth century, daily came hither for liis ale, attended by a 
goat as thirsty as himself. One day, it is said, this goat drank well rather than 
wisely, and thenceforward declined to cross the threshold of the "Castle" with its 
master. One may hope that the Vicar learnt a lesson from the goat. 

Towy is here a great, clear, rapid stream, and so it continues for the remaining 
thirt}- miles of its career. Famous view-points on it are the bridges of Llandovery, 
Llangadock, and Llandilo. the bridges themselves as graceful as the valley. Llandilo 
stands on a knoll on the west bank of the river, and rejoices in its superiority to 
Llandovery as a market-to^^^^. This, to the stranger, is much less commendatory 
than its nearness to one of the most beautiful seats in South Wales, Dynevor, where 
the Barons of that title have long held sway. The ruins of the old Dynevor Castle, 
on a hill crowded with oak, ash, and beech trees, are from the river quite ideally 
picturesque. It is a pity that the " common herd " of tourists have so misbehaved 
themselves that Lord Dvnevor has felt compelled to denv free access to so charm- 
ing a spot. Golden Grove, an estate as winsome as its name, on the other bank 
of the Towy, opposite D\-nevor, has had its attractions sung by Dyer, the poet, 
who was born in the neighbourhood, and died rector of Coningsby, in Lincolnshire, 
in 1707: here is the Grongar Hill, where ''often, by the nuunu'ring rill," one 
"hears the thrush while all is still.' 

Between Llandilo (Llan-Teilo : the Church of St. Teilo, who died of 
Llandaff, in a.d. 540) and Carmarthen, Towy's zigzags are many and eccentric. 
After Dynevor another castle, that of Dryslwyn, is soon passed. It is a mere ruin 
on a green hill. The Nelson Monument, high in the distance, on the south side 
of the river, is a more assei'tive feature in the landscape, though less welcome. 
Midway towards Carmarthen, we cross the Cothi, the longest of all Towy's afHuents, 
and here, near its mouth, as great a stream as the Towy at Llandovery. Looking 
up it, there is even here some suggestion of its fine upper gorges. At Abergorlech, 
some ten miles nearer its sources, either artist or angler would find reason to rejoice 
in it, while higher still it absorbs streamlets right and left as greedily as the 
Towy itself. 

One must, however, resist the temptation to loiter on Cothi's bridge by 
Llanegwad. There is nothing of especial mark to see by the way, save Merlin's 
grotto, where the Arthurian wizard fell a victim to the wiles of the fairy Viviana, 
and where he is still imprisoned, and will be for all time. But you must carry a 
fine faith with you to be fitly moved b}' the legend, and it will not be inexcusable 
if you fail to find it. 

At the Ivy Bush Hotel of Carmarthen, whence there is a commanding view 
over the lower jiart of the valley, one nuiy think tenderly of Sir Richard Steele, 



[MiLiDiti) Haven. 

wlio once lived in it. The tablet to bis memory in tlie parish clmrcli of St. Peter 
here describes him as tlie " chief promoter of tlie jieriodical press of England." 
What would he sav to the <;rowtli of tlie babe for wliich he is tinis made 
resjjonsible ? 

This capital t(Avn, which in the time of Giraklus liad walls of Imrnt In'ick, is 
nowadav.s of the modernest. Its castle, or what was left of it, has been turned 


into a jail: thougli vou mav discorn some of its ancient stonework in the ;ulj;iccnt 
alley.s. Tlie town stands well above the river and the seven-arclicd bridge Itcncath 
which Towv now moves with stately ease towards the sea, a naviirable stream. 
There is a small (piav here, and a lar<rer one .^^ome three miles farther down, ioi- local 
coa.sters. For five miles more Towy holds its own auainst the ocean ; and yet 
another five have to Ijc jiassed ere, at Carmarthen Bar, the fresli waters <;athered 
from the pi'ac<dul and fertile vales of (Jarmartlien>]iire are wholly nieiii'ed in the 
salt sea. 

We have now come to a singular district of Wales — a part of South Wales 
that i« not Wales, but '" a little England in Wales.'' Close by 'i'owy's mouth, 
another river Taf (though with only one "f") enters the sea very broadly with 
tlie bodv of water vielde<l to it bv the riveio Dewi Fawr, Cynin, Feni. and .Marias, 

MrLPORD Haves.] 



which all have bright tortuous courses among the green hills of Pembrokeshire. 
And four or five miles still farther west, the "Llans" and "Abers" which proclaim 
the land of the Cvnuy end, and give place to names Danish, Norwegian, and 
Norman. This continues until we are at Xewgale Bridge, on St. Bride's Bay, eight 


miles from the thoroughly reverend and Welsh city of St. David's. Newgale Bridge 
has a small ale-house adjacent, where they seem contemptuously ignorant of the 
existence of the Welsh counties of Carmarthen and GlauKjrganshire to the east, so 
positively do they inform you that on one side of the streamlet spanned bv the 
bridge it is England, and on the otiier side Wales. 


The Xnniians could not. in spite of their ftci'nest efForts, make much inijiression 
on Wales as a whole foi- a century or two after the battle of Senlac. Hut they 
could, thanks to Milford Haven, nibble at its south-western extremit\. This is 
what they did, and with the planting here by Henry I. of a large colonv of 
P'lemings the earlier stock seems to have been either absorbed or superseded. 

^Milford Haven, with its arms of tidal water extending tw('nt\- miles into the 
heai-t of the country, was a grand aid to conquest in these pai-ts. The Xornian 
lords who wei'e invited hither to carve out careers for themselves had much success. 
They raised castles at the extremities of Milford's water-ways, and thus assured to 
themselves broad controlling jiowers. Enough if mention be made of only the 
important fortresses of Pembroke, Haverfordwest, and Carew. 

The last of these may be first visited. Its situation at the head of a dannned 
tidal inlet, low-lying and with no prominent hills near, is unworthy of so noble a 
ruin. But Gerald de Windsor, the Xorman lord who built it (having received the 
land as a dowTy with his Welsh wife, Xesta, daugliter of Prince Rhys a]i Tewdwr 
of Dinefawr, or Dynevor), probably cared little for the i)ictm-esque. Tlie strong 
western towers still bear witni'ss to liim ; but to the mere tourist by far the most 
interesting- part of the castle is the east side, over ;>gainst the water, with its high 
wall and tin- lofty great Haunting skeletons of tlie windows of the palace above, 
their white mullions bowing forward with inimitalile grace. Unfortunatelv, one 
cannot romance about the rooms to wliich these majestic oriels and bays belonged. 
Tliis j)art of the castle is of the .sixteenth century, and was left unfini.shed. 

Carew Castle (Caerau ^ f<n"tified camps) still belongs to the Carews. The 
Windsors took the name of this possession of theirs, and luld the castle for 
more than three hundred years. Then their line of lordsliip was interrupted; 
and it was durinir this jieriod that the great Sir Kliys ap Thomas (whom Henry 
VII. made a Knight of the Garter for the part he played before and at Bosworth 
Field in aid of the House of Tudor) held such revels here as have made Carew a by- word. Among other shows was a " featc of arms" of five days' 
duration, to which knights flocked from all parts of England and Wales. These 
guests filled tlie castle and more : five hundred, " moste of them of goode ranke," 
were aeconnnodated with tents in the Y>ark adjacent, of which no trace remains. 
Sir Iihys him.self, in gilt armour, on a '• goodlie steede," attended bv two pages 
on horseback and a herald, " was the judge of the jousts." This same luighty 
noble received Henry VII. at Carew before Bosworth Field was fought; and, if 
tradition speak true, with his own hands killed Uidiard of Gloucester, who 
would dearly have liked ere then to have killed him. Sir Ulivs lies in the parish 
rhurch of ( 'armartlien, with about seven feet of armoured stone lor a monument; 
and a very small effigy of a wife lies by his side. With the Civil Wars came 
the ea.slle'H de.struction. The Carews of Crowcombe. in SonuM'setshire, are now 
lords of the ca.stl(', and anvonr may tread its and broken stones on pa\iuent 
of a threepenny bit. 


Carew had the honour of entertaining Henry VII., but Pembroke had the 
higher lionour of being his birthplace, Margaret Beaufort, his mother, Ijeing tlien 
only in lier fifteenth year. Five months later he was an orphan, and Jasper 
Tudor, his uncle, began his long, exemplary, and singularly fortunate guardianship. 
Ere tlien tliis great castle, at the tip of the most southerly of Milford Haven's 
arms, had had nearly four centuries of existence. The first castle was only " a, 
slender fortress with stakes and turf," says Giraldus the chronicler. If so, 
however, it must soon have been ousted by the existing Norman keep, which, 
with its 70 feet of height inul 17 feet of thickness at the base, is anything 
rather than "a slender fortress."' Tlu'oughout England there is no better specimen 
left to us of a feudal keep than this of Pembroke. 

The castle buildings, as a whole, measure some 500 feet by 400 feet within 
the walls; and, viewed, from the breezy smnmit of the keep (reached by broken 
steps and a rope), are, even in their ruin, a very instructive lesson in feudal 
history. The gate-house and the keep are by far the best preserved 2:)arts ; these 
arc both little less serviceable than they were in their prime. The central space, 
or Outer Ward, is now a grass-plot, kept trim for tennis. 

One cannot do more tlian touch on the conventional last scene in this castle's 
active history. The building was held for Cliarles I. by Colonel Laugharne and 
two other Royalists named Powell aiid Poyer. As was to be expected, they 
made a stout resistance even to Cromwell, wlio came hitlicr in person. Eventually, 
however, supplies were cut off, and the castle surrendered. " The three leaders 
were condemned to be shot — though the sentence was reduced to one. Lots 
were drawn, it is said, by a little girl. Two were marked ' Life given by God,' 
the third was blaidv, and fell to Pover. wlio was shot in Covent Garden, 1G49.'' 

Since then Pembroke Castle has accepted its )-6lc as a ruin. The very peacocks 
that strut about its courtyard seem to understand that their liaunt is a superb one. 

There is little else in Pembroke save two of those pleasant white church- 
towers which are quite a characteristic of the shire. ^lonkton Priory, one of these, 
has as lengthy a history as the castle. It was founded in 1098, and belonged to a 
community of Benedictines connected with Jayes in Normandy. Anciently this church, 
which has a very long back, with the tower about midway in it, was divided by 
an inner v.'all between the monks of the priory and the local jjarishioners. Its 
Norman nave and Decorated choir are well preserved : indeed, the original builders 
were as generous of material as they who raised the castle keep. Externally, 
save for its tower (restored in 1804), and a Norman south doorway, it has a 
very modern aspect, though its acre or two of gravestones in the churchyard bear 
witness against ajjpearances. 

There are two Pembrokes and two Jlilfords on Milford Haven; in each case 
one old and the other new. Our New Pend)roke, however, goes by the name of 
Pater or Pembroke Dock, and a very im[)ortant little town it is for tlie United 
Kingdom, with its building slips, dry dock, and naval stores. If }ou chance to 




be going from Old Pembroke to Pater between two and three o'chitk any Saturday- 
afternoon, you will be tenij)ted to form an exaggerated idea of the nunil)cr of 
hands employed at this State dockyard. In fact, there arc about l.nno, though, of 

course, the figure is 
a variable one. From 
I'atcr till' view down 
the Haven is unin- 
terrupted as far as 
the watering - place 
of l)al(>. eight or 
nine miles due west, 
just at the north 
corner of the entrance. Tlic clinnncl is tlicre nearly Iwn miles in l)readtli. and 
fortificatifms on tlie .small i>l:ni(l i>[' Tlmiii, to the srmth of Dale, arc designed to 
prevent undesirable interference with property in tlie Haven's recesses. 

In less than five- minutes you may cross the iIa\(Mi. liy steinn ferrv. from 
Pembroke Dock io New .Milford or Neyland. which culls loi- no piirticuhir notice. 
It is a creati(»n of the (Jiciit Westein li.iihvay, in connection with which .steanu-rs 
ply nightly to Ireland. Hence to Old .Milford is a pleasant walk of three nule."^, 




Avith the water continuously to the left. The low g-reen hills of the Haven to the 
south are not very beautiful, and it is only on excejttional occasions that the great 
Avater-way holds more than half a dozen big ships in its midst. (Jne or two 
ironclads on guard may, however, at all times be looked for. Imogen, in 
Vi/mhcUne, inquires, as a signiticant aside — 

" by the way, 
Tell me how Wales is made so happy as 
To inherit such a haven ! " 

But Wales's happiness in this ])ossession is of the kind that depends more on the 
expectation of favours to come than on benefits actually enjoyed. Milford Haveu 

was better appreciated in the Middle Ages 

than it is now. It was only natural, for 
-.""" example, that Henry Tudor should land 

here in his quest of the English crown,. 

Here too, earlier still, Richard II. set foot, 
on his anxious return from Ireland, when Henry of Bolingbroke was troubling his 
realm. The French chronicler, De la Marque, who was at Milford at this time, 
finds much to praise in the conduct of the Welshmen who were with the unhappy 
king. Richard's English retinue deserted him and plundered his baggage, but the 
Welsh could with difficulty be dissuaded from accompanying him in his march 
north to Conway, and they fell upon such of the deserters as they could. " AYliat 
a spirit ! Clod reward them for it ! " says De la Marque. 

Old j\[ilford is a prettily situated town terraced above the Haven, with quays 
and embankments on its shore-line, ready for the traffic that is still withheld from it. 
Idaster Atkins's red coat helps to enliven it. The blue water, th.e green level ridges 
that run west to the sea, and the Atlantic itself in the distance, all prepossess in its 
favour. But Liverpool and Holyhead both hold it uloof from the fortune it aspired to. 


Before procccdinir north to that litth^ known yet seductive river, tlie Teifi, 
Haverfordwest, on one of the two Ck>d(hius, wliich enter the Haven at its northern and 
westernmost arms, must be briefly mentioned. It is an ancient town, as its castle — 
built about 111"2 bv the father of Richard Strongbow, that eminent castle-builder 
— testifies. Amonir its other privileges was that of Ijeing county and capital town in 
(»ne ; also of having its own lord-lieutenant. Here the Flemings of the twelfth 
century did congregate in this peninsula, and no doubt the littl(> town's 
prosperity was largely due to them. Nowadays, however, it is a waniui;- place, 
in .spite of its lively look and, considering its remoteness, its fine buildings. This is 
proven bv the number of its ]\Iaiden Assizes in the later years of its inde- 
pendence, before its annexation to ("arinartheu for judicial purposes, as well as l»y 
other less atrreeable tokens. It is, perhaps, the most hilly iovni in the kingdom. Ere 
vou are half a mile av.av from it on the road to St. David's, it is lost to sight; while, 
approaching it from Milfonl. its situation seems f^iiite Alpine. 

The Triri (<tr Tiv\-), like the Towv, is little known to Knizlislinicn otlicr tliaii 
ano-lers: and a<rain, like the Towy, it well deserves knowing. Tiie two rivers both 
rise among the heather-clad moors of Cardiganshire; so near, indeed, that you may 
stand on the watershed and mark the different trend of their streams. TeiH's chief 
supply, however, comes from the Teifi pools, three miles from Strata Florida Abbey, 
a con"-eries of mountain lakes, the abode of interesting and capricious trout that 
may be recommended to the traveller with a fishing rod — and a mackintosh. It has 
as wild an origin as any of the rivers of South "Wales. The Cistercians of Strata 
Florida probably fished these lakes far more than do the nioilcrus. 

From the pools Teifi descends impetuously to the mere graveyard that reminds 
one of the M\ nachlog Fawr. or (ireat Monastery, of which only an archway remains. 
Either Rh\s ap 'i'ewdwr or lih\s aj) Gruffydd, royal princes both, was the founder 
of the abbey, which was so important an establishment that Henry IV. made a 
special expedition to destroy it. If, as tradition says. Dafydd ap (Iwilym — "the 
greatest genius of the Cimbric race and one of the first jioets of the world." in 
tiie opinion of George Borrow — was buried here, one can understand tlic patriotic 
influeni-e of such a spot, and Bolingbroke's ruthlessness. liul ni;niy air the poets 
and princes, as well as Dafydd ap Gwilyiii. who lie in this •• WCstniiusicr of Wales." 
The Strata Florida monks have been made responsible for the Devil's Bridge, on 
the Hlieldol— that Ijonne bouche for visitors to Aberystwith. Excavations have recently 
been made in the abbey precincts, with promising results. 

Strata Florida is accessible by railway from the Manchester and Milford station 
of I'ontrhvdfcndijraid. It must be confessed that some couraue is re(|.iire(l to alight 
at this dreary placi- on a wet autiinm day. Teifi traverses dismal bog-land for 
miles hence: a vast flat of glittering pools and reddish grass and reeds, abounding 
in Iiares. Oik; marvels that no serious attempt has been made to diain these 
thousan<ls of acres: not such a ditlieult task, surely, considering the steei» iall to the 


west beyond the hills. However, eacli landlord to Ins own ideas. Tregaron is 
passed, and still Teiti is rather a dull stream, though it can bo seen that, lower 
doAvn, the hills are drawing together suggestively. This is a famous district for 
cattle-drovers and cattle fairs. Your modern Cardigan farmer finds in these fair,, 
one of the main excitements of his life. But the dealers are often far gone in 
whisky by the end of the fair-day, especially if they have had " Ixirgains." 

So towards Lampeter, leaving on the east Llanddewi Brefi, where, in a.d. 519, 
was held the Great Synod, attended by St. David, at which Pelagius was adjudged 
a heretic. Teifi has now become a real river, broad and swift, and a cliarm 
to the angler. A column on a liill by Derry Ormond holds the eye. This is 
a tale told of it. The grandsire of the present owner of the estate Avooed a 
young lady of London, and In-ought her home ; l)ut she pined for the ^Metropolis, 
and said either that she could not or would not live where she could not see 
London. To lielp her a little in this respect, her husband built tlie column. 
History does not inform us wliether the wife was won to her allegiance bv this 
proof of marital infatuation. 

Teifi does not excel in its auxiliary streams. This is explainable bv the 
-nature of the countrj* it traverses. Its watershed is not an extensive one, like 
Towy's. The streams that flow to it throughout its course are all insignificant 
in size, though the two Cletwrs (Fawr' and Fach\ Afon Cych, and especially the 
merry little mountain-rivulet that joins it a mile w^est of Newcastle Endyn, are not 
Avitliout the customary fascinations of these well-nigh untrodden glens of Wild Wales. 

It is when Teifi turns decisively to the west and its home in the long inlet 
of Port Cardigan that its graces become truly bewitching. Froin Llandyssil to 
Newcastle Endyn it alternates between sweet, green, hill-bounded reaches and 
contracted gorges which trammel and fret it so that it roars with dissatisfaction. 
At Newcastle its valley is broad again, with wooded hills on all .sides, enclosing 
the ]n-etty little village and its castle. But tlience to Cardigan it is majestic 
all the way, zigzagging with glorious curves, and with higli, densely -Avooded 
banks in the main. Seen Avlien the tints are on its trees, this part of Teifi's 
course makes an enduring mark on the memory. The salmon-fisher Avho comes 
once to Teifi liere (and it is a prolific river, in spite of the " professionals,'' avIio 
take heavy tolls at its nioutli) will have abundant compensation, even though he 
have poor sport. There is no railway between Newcastle and Cardigan ; but 
what a nine miles' drive or walk it is ! 

At Cenarth, for instance, it is impossible not to pause awhile. Here the river bursts 
from a confined defile into greater freedom, sweeping under a bridge of the 
Edwards hall-mark. Cenarth is a lovely little village, out of the world, given up 
to the woods and the crying waters. And under its bridge, at the side, you 
may see some of the tiny coracles still in use on this stream. Fashions die hard 
in these sequestered parts of Wales. Giraldus tells us that the beaver ke])t its 
haunt on the Teifi wlien it was extinct elsewhere in Great Britain. 



[The Ystwtth. 

There is a contenting sameness about Teiti all the way to Cardigan : unchanged 
perfection. Two miles short of this capital town, however, it speeds to the south, 
anil then turns holdlv in its final curve towards the sea. Above it here, on a 
lofty crag, witli woods caressing it, is Kilgerran Castle, wliich Tui-ner painted. 
He could hardiv liavo resisted the temptatioUj having seen it. The castle remains 

J'kolo: lludfjn. 

MILFOUl) HAVEN [p. 185). 

consist of two towers and a gatewav. all of tlie tliirteentli centurv. Historically, 
little .seems known about it. 

Then<'(' 'I'eifi makes for the defile whicli ushers it to .salt water, past the 
small yet prosperous county town, which has close sea intercourse with l?ri.stol, 
and docs a jrood trade in fish. Cardigan, like all these Welsli capitals, lui'^ a 
fragmentarv ca.stle; .so fragmentary, indeed, that it is liardly discoverable. It has 
also an old clnn"ch with a remarkablv ma.ssive tower, havinu- a buttress like a 
staircase. Krom its churclivard tombstones one mav learn mucli, as well as the 
common lesson of the mortalitv of mortals. It is, for example, interesting to the 
Htrangcr to be informed that " Let "" is no unusual diristian name lor a nuin here, 
and "I.eflice'" for a woman, 'i'he town suffers from a complaint nowadays rare 
among the capitals of I'.ritish counties, to wit, diflicult railway conmnmication with 
the of the land. This will be remedied somewhat when the exislinfr line is 
continued freni Newcastle Knd\n. I»at (jue may be excused for hoping that Teifi's 

The Ystwith.j 



banks may for years to come know notliing of the mauling and devastation that 
will be inevitable when this takes 2)lace. 

If you wish to see Teifi, or Tivy, quite to its end, it is worth while to go 
north another three miles, to Gwbert-on-the-Sea, a distinctly primitive and pleasing 
watering-place, facing Kemmaes Head, with the mile and a half of Teifi's mouth 
(at its widest) intervening. 

Photo : S. J. Alien, Femhroke Docl: 

Bidding farewell to the 
beauteous Teifi, we must 
now in few words track the 
last of our rivers to the same inevitable destination. Ystwitii has had no poets that 
we are aware of. Not all who visit Aberystwith, indeed, perceive (though they 
surely might) that it gives its name to this salubrious town. The Eheidol, 
which also enters the sea at Aberystwith, is treated with distinction. For it 
there is a solid, handsome bridge, lighted with lamjjs. But for Ystwith there is only 
a very commonplace bridge. 

The Ystwith rises in the broken upland a few miles south of Pllnlinnnon, 
runs in a deep channel for three or four miles, and then, with little hesitation, 
though infinite sinuosities, rushes due west. Its entire length is not more than 
thirty miles. Until it comes to the road by Eglwys Newydd, and within four 


miles of the Devil's Bridfro, on its rival tlio Rhcidol. and own past Hafod, it 
sees few admirers, thouirli it miirlit have many. People who come to Eghvys 
Newydd, on their circuitous way to the Devil's Bridge, do not go out of their 
path to see the Ystwith, but the Chantrey monument, in memor}' of Miss Johnes, 
in this '' New Church." Farther west the Manchester and !Milford Eailway runs 
in its vallev from Trawscoed, and accompanies it to the sea. Here its beauty 
is of a sujierl) order. The wooded mountains soar with most impressive effect 
on its southern side, now and then parting to show an abysmal glen, just as 
densely wooded, down which a bab}' stream tumbles towards om* Ystwith. It 
matters not so very much, except to the angler, if the river docs suffer from 
lead-i>oisoning. The mines do not obtrude themselves; and one may cheat oneself 
into the Itelief that the thickness of its waters comes from the melting snows high 
up on the mountains which it taps. For a few miles one may search the vocabulary 
for adjectives in eulogv of Y.^twith. Then it sobers into comparatively level 
ijround. and green ])astures betweeii receded green and heather-clad hills succeed 
tlie splendid towering woods. For the rest of its journey, it is an ordinary stream, 
and as .such it slides into the sea just south of the town with a modesty that 
is almost affecting. 

Abervstwith the ])iered, esplanaded and castled, might well condescend to take 
a little notice of its humlde "godparent," as well as of the Kheidol. and might 
gain credit in the condescension. This resort of a certain order of fashion 
(e.specially now that there are sweet girl-graduates to give a classic touch to its 
broad breezy promenade) seems, however, fully content to rely on the seducing 
charms of its pmverful pure air, its tea-gardens on Constitution Hill, and — the 
Devil's Bridge. 

Wondrous indeed is the power of ozone ! It reconciles us to weeks in lodging- 
houses that arc ugly to behold and are in themselves uncomfortable. Not tliat 
Abervstwitli is worse off in this re.spect than other places. Indeed, it may be said 
to be in a better plight than most, since the Esplanade buildings arc handsome, 
once vou have accepted their uniformity. Even Avere it otherwise, it Avoidd matter 
not at all to tlie sojourner in bracing Aberv.stwith ! He acquires resignation and 
divers (^ther virtues merely in breathing this pure invigorating air on the broad 
paved walk between the lodging-houses and the sea. 

Of Aberystwitlrs castle it must suffice to say that it dates from the eleventh 
century, and owes its parentage to Gilbert Strongbow. Cromwell cut its little comb 
effectually, and now it exists only in fragments. They are, however, attractive 
morsels, and ihe little gieen enclosure which they prettily dignify is a ijojudar resort 
for vi.sitors. Tliere are .seats about it, and you may perch close over the mutilated 
low cliffs of tlie and watch the breakers rolling in towards the town, 
while listening with your mind's ear tr; the tales told by Time of this dowmight 
ancient little j)lace. The I'niversity buildings adjoin the castle demesne. Tiu'y 
are (piite One wonders how often in the year the noise of the waves on 



[The Ystwith. 

their stones is so loud that it distracts the academic minds witliiii its stately "walls. 
It has been said authoritatively that '' Aberystwith stands out as l)ein<; far and away 
the Welshiest of the University Colleges, and Cardiff as tlic most En<,dish."' This 
is frratifviuiT tt» those of us who like to see tlie boundary -lines of nationalities cleai-ly 
defined. And yet the faces of the students in the streets here do not sliow their 
biithright as one would exi)ect. 

But enouirh. One must be very morose or abased in body as well as mind not 
to perceive the peculiar charms of Aberystwith. To the enterprisinir, and perliaps 
jaded, sojourner in this Brighton of Wales It may, moreover, come as welcome 
news that for a mile or two of its course the Ystwith is of a beauty matchless 
even in Wales. Cii.u{LES Euwai^ues. 

UOLGELLEY [p. 200). 




Glories of a Wet Autnnin in iS'urth Wales. The Dovey : Source of the Stream— Dinas Jlowdilwy— MaUwyd— Machynllelh. 
The nvsYNSi : Tal-y-Llj-n— The " Bird Eock "— Towyn. The Mawddaoh : The Estuary— The Wiiiou— Torrent Walk— 
Dolgelley — Precipice Wall; — The Kstuary— Barmouth— Harlech Castle —Portmadoo — The Glaslyn — Tremadoc and Shelley — 
The Tn(.th Puh 

^^^^HERE are times of the year when Nortli AVales secuis to Ije 
all river.s and mountain torrent.s and tuniljliny eataraets. 
The hills ai"e seamed by thin, Avhito streaks of foaminy 
v/ater. It is as if all the land were rushing down to the 
valleys and the sea. What was yesterday a .slow dribble 
-y^j^ , _ f'-* V from pool to pool, a scarcely perceptible moisture among- 

i;^ *r^ Y" /^^ weeds, a narrow reflection of sky among stones and boulders, 
/ IS to-day a broad, impetuous stream, or a wide expanse of 

bog-stained water, or a torrent swollen and turbulent. The 
cataracts which have disappointed the tourist in dry seasons come 
down in a way that wholly sustains their ancient reputation. 
But the mountains are, for the most part, hidden in mist, or 
^^ helmed in cloud; the white roads glitter like streams, and — 

"The rain, it rainetli e\erv day; 
Heiglio, tlie wind and tlir rain ! " 

Yet, decidedly, it is in a wet autumn that one should see North Wales. " Then, if 
ever, are perfect days,'' when the whole glory of wild Nature reveals itself in some 


-^.^i* . 

i f^ 



[The Dovet. 

interval of dripping' rains ; -when tlie brown foliage, dipping into the flooded I'ivers, 
glows like gold in some sudden outburst of the sun ; and when the mountains fade 
upward from their heathery bases, and })urple miudledistanees. into sliadowy peaks 
of faintest blue. 

How fascinatinglv the bells of Aberdovey have rung thi'inselves into the 
popular consciousness! And all by means of some foolish verses tiiat are as securely 
innnortal as the famous and touching air in which Neil Oow has set the bells of 

Mdiiibiii'iih tdwn to music : — 


'■'Ac (IS wvl till t'v iiuluiru i 
l'\'l rwvt' li'ii (!y <;:iiu (li, 
.Mai nil, (laii, tri, pedwar, puiiiji. 

Uo I lie lii-lls of Aberdovey." 

Scaled in a boat in llie 
luiddk' (if the estuary of 
the DovEV river, one laments 
the fact that the bells 
exist in legend only. How 
sweetly they would sound 
thrdiigli llie distance and 
in the dusk, over this wide 
cxjjanse of shallow water 
and glimnu'ring sand ! But 
tlie little town of Alier- 
dovey, hugging tho hill- 
sidi- at the south-westerly corner of .Mei-ioiietiisliire. has certainlv liad no ])e;d of 
bells at any date nujre recent lliau the time when Owen Glendower dt'sceii led into 
the l)ovcy valley to procure his own proclamation as Prince of Wales. It is a hund)le 
little town, which, as somebody has remarked, seems to ask itself why it is not 
Liverpool. It has a wharf and a deep-water ])ier, and a railway at onl\- a few 
yards from the beach. J.,arge ves.sels could lie in safet\- near to the doors of the 
Aberdovey folk, and the maps insist strenuously on the diiectness of the sea-routes 
to Dulilin, to Kosslare, and to Waterford. They arc direct enough, no doubt; 
but who cares to travel by them V Only a few small schooners are to be seen in 
the harbour of Aberdovey. Two or three otheis are drawn up high and (b\- on 
tiio sands, .so that one might alnuist leaj) on board from the thresholds ot' tlic 
cottages. H' the world were more hap])ilv ordered, the chief trade of the place 
might be the exchange of rich mcichaiidisc ; but, as one ma\' percci\c iVoni tin- 
pier yonder, it is merely tlie expoitation of slates. 

The river Dovey — oi- I)y(i, as it is called in tlic more uiu-icnt lunuuage — rises 
among the peaks of Aran .Mowddwx. and. dashing down the niounlain-sidcs with a 
pretty music, leaves Merioneth for a while to course through ;i jutting corner ol 

TheDovev.] MOWDDWY and its banditti. 195 

Montgomeryshire. Then it becomes tlie boundaiy between Merioneth and Cardigan, 
making its way to the sea through an estuary fV^ miles long — broad, noble, and 
impressive, witli liills green, gentle, and round on its left, and on its right high 
mountains and purple heather, and "the sleep that is among the lonely hills." It 
is a river much Ix'loved of angling folk, for there are " salmons " not only, as 
Fluellen said, in i\Ionmoutlishire, liut also in Montgomery and Merioneth. Likewise 
tliere is abundance of sewin and trout; and the fisherman who visits Dinas Mowddwy, 
Mallwyd, or Machynlleth will be likely enougli to store his memory with recollections 
not only of fine scenery but of glorious days. 

Dinas i\Iowddwy is a small village with a large hotel ; but it was nothing less 
than a city in the old days, and it calls itself a city still. Even up to so recent a 
date as 188G, it had all the honours of a borough, with a Mayor of its own, and 
a Corporation, and a Recorder, and the tradition of a charter dating from James I. 
It may be reached bj- means of a ridiculous but convenient railway from Cennuaes 
Road, the trains consisting of an engine and one carriage, with, jiO'^'siblv, a few truck- 
loads of slates attached behind. Aran Mowddwy, on which the Dovey rises, is, next 
to Snowdon, the highest mountain in ^Yales. It is the centre of a district full of 
vague traditions and curiously varied grandeur and beauty. After the death of 
Owen Glendower, "many powerful gentlemen of Wales" assembled at Dinas "for 
the purpose of making compacts to ertforce virtue and order." Tlicir success can 
scarcely have been very yreat, for it was at this place, not long afterwards, that the 
"Red-Haired Banditti of Mowddwy" were wont to hold their meethigs and arrange 
their murders. It is pleasant to be able to record that in due coiirse these gentry 
were as effectually suppressed as were the Dooncs of Exmoor, if the story of John 
Ridd is to 1)0 believed. How they found means to exist l)y rajiine in a country so 
sparsely peopled is not now intelligible ; but they were, clearly, a very savage and 
revengeful folk, for forty arrows were found in the body of a judge who had 
condemned some of their brethren to death. 

Sjiarkling along through Dinas, and Mowing under the ruins of an ancient 
bridge, Avith a more modern and substantial structure close beside it, the river Dovey 
shortly reaches i\Iallwyd, A\'here there is a church that is much visited, occupying 
the site of an earlier edifice which is said to have been erected by 8t. Tydecho in 
the sixth century, and Avith an ancient yew-tree Avhich the saint himself is believed 
to have planted. On the otlier side of the river stands the farmhouse of Camlan, 
associated by a tradition, into the veracity of which we need not now inquire, with 
Camelot, and that "battle long ago" in which King Arthur is said to have been 
overthrown. All this wide, winding Dovey valley teems Avith history of a sort. At 
tlie farmhouse of Mathafarn, below Cemmaes Road, "the great 2)oet and scholar," 
David Llwyd ap Llewelyn, entertained the Earl of Richmond, Avho was after- 
wards to become King Henry VII., and w'as then on liis way to IJosworth 
fight. At Machynlleth, Avith its fine, broad, medi.Tval street, nuich frequented by 
salesmen of cattle and sheep, a'ou may see the house in which Owen ({IcndoAver held 



[Tm: DovEY. 

his Parliament after he had 
'"defeated" the by 
flyinir before them into thi' 
liills. :Machynlleth itself 
was the Konian station of 
Mairlona. and is now a 
fairlv considerable town, 
situated almost as happily 
as Doljrelley, with the 
square ivy-clad tower of 
an ancient church dominat- 
ing the centre of the valley. 
Here the beautiful river 
Dulas joins the Dovey, and 
hence one may travel by 

^ <-^':^*'^*^''^'Z^'^ 

touhext -waj.k, noi.cEi.LEr [p. IDS). 

the tiny Cori-is railwav to Tal-y-Llyn. throug-h some of the most satisfying scenery 
in all Wild Wales. 

Uefore reaching the estuary, the Dovey wanders througli iniuli \vi(l(> marslilaud, 
over which a railway has been carried, wliere there is a railwny >tati.)n set amid 
do ;'»latencss, and wliere no tree or .-lirul) breaks the iial. l.n.wu margins of the 
stream. From such .scenery it is very agreeable to lireak away to where, at liigli 
tide, there is a sheet of water six nnles In-oad— the sweetest, calmest, most restful 
estuary in all Wales, with I'.urth sunning itself Ity the sea far away, with liills at feet jilantations lloini>li, and iiicuiiilairiS with lir-wuods cliiubiiig up their slopes. 

The Bysyxni.] 



Flowing from the sides of Cacler Idris, -winch holds a, gloomy lake in its lap, 
there is a complex network of streams. Several of these join themselves together 
to form the little river Dysynni, which, after wandering among the moimtains for 
twelve miles or so, drowns itself in the sea beyond Towyn. One of the som"ces of 
the Dysynni is Tal-y-Llyn. Noble and beautiful and ever memorable is the valley 
through which the stream hurries downwards from that renowned lake, the object 
of innumerable excursions made from Dolgelley, from Towyn, from Machynlleth, and 
from all the wild, wonderful, fascinating places roundabout. Tal-y-Ll3'n is no more 
than a mile long, and a quarter of a mile broad ; but it is like a small piece of 
Norway transported to Wales. Here alike come those who are intent on reaching 
the summit of Cader Idris, and those who desire to follow " the contemplative man's 
recreation," for the Dysynni, like the Dovey, is a famous fishing river. Salmon, 
sewin, and gwyniad are to be found therein, from i\[ay until after the autumn leaves 
are falling. There are Avhitc and sea trout, and liass, and in the estuary plentifid 
grey nudlet, Avhich nuike fine and exciting sport Avhen a ring of nets is throAvn 
around them, and the noisy and vigorous "beaters" drive them into the meshes. 

One nuist go up the Dysynni to see the famous " Bird Eock," a great .shoulder 
of mountain on which the hawk and the cormorant dwell. It is so precipitous that 
it may be climljed on only two of its sides, and it has one of those echoes for 
Avhich Wales is almost unapproachable, so that the music of any instrument that is 
played upon it will be reverberated in a startling chorus from all the surrounding 
hills. Lower down the river, always amid such scenery as it were vain to describe, 
there is the site of a manor house from which Prince Llewelyn wrote important 
letters to ecclesiastical magnates in London, and which that stout soldier-king 
Edward I. visited, for he dated a charter thence. Older relics there are, like the 
Tomen Ddreiniog, which, maybe, is one of "the barrows of the happier 


198 RirEES OF GREAT URTTATX. [The MAwr,r>Ac.t. 

dead."* It is a vallov renowned for its birds and tlieir sonas. tlli^^ of the 
Dysynni, and iur its rare plants and mosses, and its rich store of niaiden-liair fern. 
As wc apj)roacli Towyu the mansion of Ynys-y-MaengW3-n, the dwelling of an 
aneient Welsh familv, presents a quaint and most picturesque mixture of architectural 
periods, for it combines all the styles of domestic architecture that prevailed between 
the period of Elizabeth and that of the Georges. 

The Dysynni is a land-locked river as it approaches the sea. for the Cambrian 
liailway crcxsses its estuary. There is a spectacle on one hand of what seems a lake 
among purple mountains, and on the other of a stream winding amid dreary Hats 
to the breezy waters of Cardigan Bay. Towvn, which is but a small place, has a 
certain fame for sea-bathing, and for its association with " a holv man of Armorica, 
who came to Wales in the sixth century to refute the Pelagian heresy."' One does 
not inquire too curiously into these things; but there, not far from the estuar_v of 
the Dyspini, is St. Cadfan's Church, and St. Cadfan was one Avho performed miracles: 
and in the church there is a pillar which, as some aver, is inscribed in debased 
Roman chaiacters. and once marked the site of St. Cadfan's grave. 

'• Neither the North of England, nor Scotland, no, nor Switzerland, can exhibit 
anything so tranquil, romantic, snug, and beautiful as a Welsh valley.'" These are 
the words of J(»hn Wilson, the " Christopher North " of the famous " Noctes 
Ambrosianaj" and the "Recreations"'; the "rusty, crustv Christopher" of Lord 
Tennyson's early .satire. He was thinking of Dolgelley and all the indescribable 
charm of its .surroundings. Wilson was a Scot who had dwelt continuousl\- ami 
for many years amid the English Lakes. lie knew his Switzerland, too ; and it 
must have been reluctantly, one would think, that he gave this unstinted praise to 
the pai-ticular valley in which North Wales seems most to unite its grander and its 
quieter beauties, all its Avonders of mountains and wood, torrent and waterfall, snug 
valley and scarred and towering height. The Mawddach estuary, which has tlie 
appearance of a chain of lakes, Avinds among the mountains as far as Penmaenpool, 
where there is a long, low, sinuous railway bridge of innmnerable arches. Here, 
where the Mawddach suddenly l)ecomes a stream, flowing through gTcen nuirshes, 
with its coui'se indicated by lines of deep-driven stakes, Christopher North nmst often 
have been rejninded of the head of his beloved Windermere, missing onlv the solenm 
and silent majesty of the Langdale Pikes. Following the river upward through the 
wide, marshy ]»lain until it again hides it.self among woods nnd hills, one comes 
uj)on the rivci' Wmon. which is chiefly of importance among \\'<lsli rivers liecause 
it is famous foi- its trout, because it winds through Dolgelley on its wav, and, two nules further ujtwards, it is joined by the tumultuous thread of water 
which tinnbles from jxiol to pool, over cataract after cataract, close beside the steep, 
mile-long ])iece of .sylvan beauty known as the Torrent AValk. Until it n'^ceives 
this tributary the Wnion is, except in sea.sons of rain, but a thin and feelil(> stream; 
but it flows through benufiful and shad\- woo;ls, fretting .sometimes over a rocky l>ed, 

The Wn-ion-.] 



sometimes flowing: in a peaceful, sunlit calm, and now and again reflecting one of 
those widc-arclied, mossy bridges which indicate 1)V theiv breadth of span how murh 
way tliis little river claims for itself when the thin silvery threads of all the small 



W ^1 

streams that flow into it from the 
Arans on one side, and from the 
lower slopes of Rhobell Fawr on 
the otlier, are swollen into mountain 
torrents b}' continuous rain. 

There are innumerable little 
rivers in North AVales, boiling down 
over tumbled rocks, in deep valleys, 
■« ith trees swaying and arching over- 
II id. The type of these is the turbulent 
)i(jok, so narrow that one might leap 
acioss it, which descends through the 
Dwygyfylchi valley, and then quietly 
loses itself in the sea between Conway 
and Penmaenmawr. But in all Wild Wales there is no such mad, mei'ry, laughing, 
and leaping piece of water as tlie long cataract which hastens down from the 
upper to the lower bridge of the Torrent AValk, to join the Wnion two miles above 
Dolgelley. It falls, like a white mist, amid riven cliffs ; it pours itself, with a frolic 
music, between great masses of moss-grown rock ; it dips under tree-trunks which 
have been thrown across it, like rustic bridges, by long-forgotten storms. The 
channel wliich tliis torrent has made for itself is a deep, dark, winding cleft through 
a beautiful wood on the side of a steep hill. It is in the late autumn that it is at 
its best, when the trees are of all rich tints, from russet to gold, and when there is a 
glorious, glowing carpet of brown leaves un either side of the Torrent Walk, and 



[TuE Wxiox. 

when the torrent itself, swollen by the unfailinii' rains, breaks into white spray amid 
the blue mist of the cataracts. The Wnion is tame enough after such a spectacle; 
but it makes some rcallv strikiug loops and bends as it winds away to Dolgelley, 
broadening out in the ever-broadening valley, and then darting forward to the 
tall, grev arches of Dolgelley bridge, where it dreams along f(n- a while over its 
nudtitudinous pebbles, and tlien wanders away into tlu* green sluuhjw of trees. 

rfiotu : II. Ci«ii, lyirnvjutli. 


Dolgelley is the capital of Jlerioneth, and tlie curfew is .still rung there; and 
some of its houses retain all the (piaintness of the Elizabethan age, and its streets are 
so odd, and winding, and confused, that one thinks of the legend of the giant's wife 
who dropped a heap of .stones from her apron, the whiili in due became a 
town. In the distance, Dolgelley looks like a grey nest amid green branches, shelter- 
ing in a basin of the hills. It is walled romid by tlie moimtains, Cader Idris being 
its loftiest and its grandest l»ulwark. Owen (ilcMidower had a Parliament Ibusc here, 
pulled down only a few years ago ; and that is almost the whole history of the 

The May.'ddacu.] 



jjlace, Avliicli is attaiuinij,- some small additional importance in these days because 
the gold mines are not far away, and also by reason of its manufacture of excellent 
Welsh cloth. 

It is a land of cataracts all round about ; but to roach the finest of these 
one must leave the river Wniou and ascend the IMawddach ^-alley, up the beautiful 

Photo : I. Slater, Llandudno 


Gaidlwyd (ilcn, and so to the i^old mines. Kely not too imi)licitly on those 
learned books which would instruct the confiding- stranger wanderhig amid 
these mountainous Avildernesscs. '' There arc three fine Falls on the ^lawddach," 
one reads in a Itook of considerable geographical pretensions — "one of (iO feet 
in Dolmelynllyn Park, another of 00 feet called the ]Mawddach Fall, the third, 
of LOO feet, called the Pist3-ll-}-('ain." "I wonder," said an American humorist, 
"whether it is worth while knowing so much that is not so/' The IJhaiadr-y- 
jMawddach — over which, at this stage, Hows the river that is shortly to broaden 
out into the grandest estuary in Wales — descends, in two leaps, into a large and 
magnificent l)asin, aljout which the rocks and trees have arranged themselves into 


a noble amphitheatre. The Precipice Wulk is not far away. One may behold all the 
Snuwdon reirioii from this dizzy height on the open hillside ; the Ganlhvyd valley 
opens out below : the Arans tower upwards to the right ; and beyond the village of 
Llaufachreth, looking northward, rises the grand mass of Rhobell Fawr, its head half- 
hidden in a cloud, "that moveth altogether, if it move at all." And as for the Pistyll-y- 
Cain and the lihaiadr-Du, '* the black cataract," the one, as its name indicates, is 
the fall of the river Cain, and the other is the fall of the Candan, less broad, less 
precipitous, at the fir-st glance less impressive, than its more renowned rival, but (juite 
wonderfullv beautiful in its surroundings, its rocks ami woodlands, its dual U>a]). and 
nmnv winding's, and numerous tumlding streams. 

Savs a Welsh proverb: "There is only one i)rettior walk in Wales rlian the roail 
from Dolgelley to Barmouth. It is the road from Barmouth to l>.)lgelley.'' The 
adjective is ill-chosen. Xot prettiness, but a calm majesty, is the characteristic of 
the rich scenery of the valley of the ^Mawddach. When the tide is up, the river 
between Pemnaenpool and Barmouth is like a chain of lakes among bold and craggy 
heights, .sloping brown moorlands, and terraced woods. One is reminded sometimes 
of Switzerland and sonu^times of the Rhine. It is advisable to ascend the river, as 
"Wordsworth did, in a boat. The poet was at Barmouth in 1824, when he rowed up 
'■ the sublime estuary, which may compare with the linest in Scotland." One is 
alwavs di-iven back upon these compari.sons. The estuary of the ]\Iawddach arouses 
sensations of strangeness and unexpectedness. Even amid the grandeur and the 
beautv of North Wales, it seems to belong to some other country, and almost to a 
land of dreams. It may have been some recollection of rowing upwards towards 
Pennnienpool that inspired the lirst and greatest of tlu' Lake i>oets with two of 
his most splendid lines : — 

" I hear the echoes tlirough the mountains thronj; ; 
The winds come to me from the fields of sleep." 

And the scenery here is everything. There is little history to engage the mind. 
(.)ne mereh- sliudders at the story of how, in what are now the grounds of Nannau 
House, Owen Glendower fought witli liis cousin, llowcl ScK', slow liiin. and hid 
the body in a hollow tree. The Abbot of Cymmer is credited with having brought 
about the meeting, in the hope that the two kinsmen might be reconciled; but who 
knows anything about the Abbot of Cymmer? So much of the al)l)iy as remains is 
mi.xed up with farm buildings, amid beautifid sylvan .scenery, about two miles from 
l>r.lgclh'\-, and near to the banks of tlie .Mawddatli. GrilHth and .Meredydd, lords of 
Merioneth and grandsons of Owain (iwynedd, Prince of Xortli Wales, t'nundrd tlie 
abbey in 11JI8. The architecture suggests Irish influeiu-es, and an Irislnnan liy 
whom such intlnence is ]ikel\- to have been exercised is known to liave emigrated to 
Wales at about tiie time of tlie foundation. The uionks were of the CisKTcian i<vdvv, 
and the ahhey was dedicated t<i St. M.wy. 'i'lie ruins nl' the .linivh are the 
l»rincipal portion of what now remains. The abbot's Itnlgings and part of the 


refectory have been incorporated into the present farmhouse. The emissaries of 
Henry VIII. penetrated even to this remote spot, and so the abbey was despoiled. 

Bai'mouth, Avhich, in Welsh, is Abermaw, or the n^outh of the Mawddach, is 
built in strange fashion aliout the foot i)f a mountain wliich is surpassingly noble in 
its contour. Some of the houses cling high up among the perilous slopes. In one 
direction the}' look out to sea, and in the other across the "sublime estuar}- " at 
its widest part. The rich, glowing woods of Arthog climb up the opposite slopes, 
with the side of Cader Idris rising like a vast cliff above their topmost branches. 
The little town, with its tremendous background of rugged mountain, has Ijeen 
likened to Gibraltar. The oldest of its dwellings is alleged to date back to the 
reign of Henry VII. For us of to-day the place has the interest of having been 
selected as the earliest of the settlements of Mr. Euskin's Guild of St. George. 
"I have just been over to Barmouth," the IMaster wrote manv a year ago, "to see 
the tenants on the tirst bit of ground — noble crystalline rock, 1 am glad to say — 
possessed by St. George on the island." Grandly impracticable was the idea of 
settling a community of this kind in such a place,, and one looks at the small 
cottages, high on the hillside, with a feeling that the}' are a stray and stranded 
fragment of Utopia. 

It is a bare, ordinary-looking town, this Barmouth, when surveyed from the level 
of its lower streets ; but there is an unapproachable dignity, Ijeauty, and charm in 
the wide, level stretch of sand, and water whicli lies between here and Arthog, 
wliich winds inland among the brown mountain-slopes, which broadens outward to 
Cardigan Bay. The bridge is a curious and useful rather than a jileasant feature 
of the landscape. It carries a railway that branches off to Dolgelley on the one 
hand, and to Glandovey and South Wales on the other. Fortunatel}', it lies low 
down, and close to the water, as it were, its central portion being occasionally 
raised for the admission of ships, of a tonnage, however, that is marvellously small. 
From its further side, where the sand has gathered into hillocks, crowned liy long, 
waving, rank grass, the town of Barmouth, with its vast hill of Craig Abermaw, 
brings into mind the castle of Chillon and its surroundings. It seemed poor and 
common enough, away there on the other side of the bridge ; but from this point 
it is graceful, noble, almost sublime. 

The grand castle of Harlech looks out on to the waters about midway in that 
waste of shore Avhich divides Barmouth from Portmadoc. The castle has long- 
been a ruin, but, all things considered, it has been magniticently preserved. 
It liad the fortune to esca^je the dismantling which was so nearly universal 
during the Civil Wars. Later times have been less considerate, for many of 
the houses roundabout have been built from the stone and timber of the fortress ; 
yet, looking at it from a distance, the place still seems to be intact, and grandly 
formidable in its strength and its situation. From Portmadoc it is the principal 
feature of the landscape as the eye sweeps round the fine curve of the bay. The 



[The Glaslyn. 

interest of Portmadoc itself lies in tlu' iiKiniiparable view of the Snowdon range 
which is to be obtained therefrom, and in a curious association with Shelley. A 
huo-e alluvial jilain. the Traetli MawT, or Great Sand, sheltered by an irregular sonii- 
circle of hills, makes an impressive foreground. Here one might expect to hear 
tales of that Prince Madoc who is alleged to have ]n-ecedcd Columbus, by a huge 
interval, in the discovery of America: but Portmadoc, witli its long. Idw line of 
railwav across the Traetli Bach, its small schooners laden with slate, its rows of 
houses sh-uggling about the hillside, its active industry, its bridges and quays, is 
a town of quite modern date, its history extending backward only to llie end of tlie 
last centurv, and its name being derived, not from tlie adventurous ]»vince whom 
Southev ha.s made the subject of an epic, but from an energetic Mr. Maddocks, 
who reclaimed "2,000 acres of good land from the sea, and carried a mile-long 
mole of stone the great estuary into which the little river Glaslyn Hows. 
Portions of Portmadoc are at this day some two or three feet below tlie sea-level. One 
may obtain from here one of the best views of Snowdon ; and on the south side of 
the valley, over which his shadow seems to be cast, the Cynicht— the Matterhorn 
of Wales, as it has l)een called — rises up in noble and entrancing proportions. 
Hence, too, come into impressive prominence the green and grassy sides of ]\[oel 
Wvn. A walk of a few miles would bring us to Beddgelert, or to the lovely Pass 
of Abergla.xlvn, \\itli its mrforgettable admixture of mountain and of sylvan scenery; 
or, by climbing the hill at our back, we may come within sight of Tremadoc, and 
the in which the poet Shelley alleged that he was assailed by a mysterious 
and murderous visitant. Into the Traeth Bach, which is an unreclaimed extensitm 
of the Traetli ]\Iawr. pours down tlic stream Avhich accompanies the traveller on 
the "baby railwa\ "" from tlic lieights of I>laenau Festiniog. Westward lie 
Criccieth and Pwlllieli, and the sharp Ijend of the Lleyn i)eiiinsula, and Bardsey 
Island and its li<:btliouse, round which one mav sail into Carnarvon Bay. 





The Seioxt : Llanberis Pass — Lakes Peris and Padam— Doltadam Castle and Ceimant llawr— Carnarvon and its Castle 

The Ogwen : Llyn Ogwen and Llyn Idwal— Bethcsda— Penihyn Castle. The Lug-h-v : Capel Curi? Jloel Siabod 

— Pont-y-Cvfing— Swallow Falls— The Miners' Bridge— Bettws-y-Coed. The Lledr : Dolwyddelen Pont-y-Pant. The 

Machxo and its Fall. The Coxway : Fairy Glen— Llanrwst— Gwydir Castle— Llanhedr—Trefriw— Conway Marsh 

Conway Castle and Town — Deganwy — Llandudno. 

rpHP] river Seiont is only about thirteen miles long. One seldom hears mention 
-^ of its name, except by the trout-fisher, it may be. It is treated, in general, 
as of small account. And yet, surely it is one of the most distinguished rivers of 
North Wales, for does it not drain the north-eastern side of Snowdon, and flow 
through the Pass of Llanberis, and broaden out into Llyn Peris and Llyn Padarn, 
and finally, after devious wanderings, and much merry tumbling amono- rocks, 
bovdders, and little reedy islets, culminate in a port, with the oreat castle of 
Carnarvon guarding its exit into tlie Strait across wliich one looks to the loveh' 
island of Anglesea ? But if few speak of the Seiont, there has been unlimited 
eloquence concerning the grandem- — what the descriptive writers of the last t-enturv 
would have considered the awfulness — of the lilanberis Pass. The ^joint of view 
has changed whilst the century has been passing away. Where our great-orandfathers 
spoke of "horrid scenes" we rind nowadays glory of coloux-, and magnificence of 
form, and all the finer cliaracteristics of mountain beauty. But something, after 
all, is to be said from the point of view of our great-grandfathers. "We travel 
through the Pass of Llanberis by coach on good and safe roads, and they ventured, 
perforce, along " a horse-path so rugged that nuicli of it was like going uj) aiul 
down rough stone stairs." 

It was between the two lakes Peris and Padarn, and at the new ^-illage of 
Llanberis. that the late Poet Laureate foregathered, in his youth, with his friend 
Leonard, who sang of ''all the cycle of tlie golden year": — • 

" \Ve crost 
Between the lakes, and clambered lialf-way up 

The counter side 

and high above, I heard them blast 

The steep slate quarry, and the great echo Hap 
And buffet round the hill from bluff to bluff." 

The first recorded ascent of Snowdon seems to have been made from the same spot 
in 16:)9. " At daybreak on the ord of August," says the seventeenth-century 
mountaineer, " having mounted our horses, we proceeded to the British Alps." 

After the mountains, Dolbadarn Castle and Ceunant Jlawr — tlie Waterfall of 
the Great Chasm — are the principal attractions of Llanberis. The cataract is upwards 

20(5 liirEUS OF GREAT BlUTAIX. [Thl Seioot. 

of 0(1 feet in lieiirlit. It tuiiil)lcs over a few ledges, ruslies down a \vid(> slojje. and 
falls into a pool below. The eastle is singnlarly well placed for picturesque effect. 
The one tower now remaining occupies the whole of the surface of a rocky eminence, 
wliicli presents a jn-ecipitous front to the lake, and has a marvellous liackground of 
liigh-i)eaked mountains. Often enough it can be .seen only through mists, en- driving 
.sheets of rain, for Llanberis seems to be the home of the rain-cloud and the cradle 
of the .storm. 

An unspeakable lumljcr of wa.'^te slates stretches out into the lakes as we 
l)roceed downwards, but does not interfere witli the splendid view of Snowdon 
which is to be obtained at the point where the Seiont leaves Llyn I'adarn. ^^'ooded 
cliffs and heathery crags, and i)eeps of wild moorland, and rugged country tliat is 
redeemed from desolateness by frofinent white cottages, make fine pictm-es for us 
as we proceed down the river towards Carnarvon. Here and there the stream is 
divided by great masses of stone, past which it races in order to drive some Avater- 
mill, half hidden in leaves. There are reedy pools, in which a wild swan may 
occa.sionallv be seen, and then willowy marshes; and so, bending tliis way and tliat, 
now bursting into the open sunlight, and tlicn plunghig into woodland sluul(\ and 
alway.s and impetuous, the little river hastens <m until it joins the tide, 
i.ssuing into the ^lenai Strait between the grimly beautiful walls of Carnarvon 
Castle and a Avooded bank. Only as to its interior can the castle now Ije properly 
described as a ruin. Restoration has here taken the form of rebuilding, and this 
proud stronghold is now innneasural)ly more complete as to its outward appearance 
than it can have been when Kdward I. exhibited from its walls tlic priuci' who, 
having first seen the light only a few hours before, was " not oidy born in Wales 
but could not speak a word of the tongue.*' 

Away from the ca.stle and what remains of the Avails, which, in appearance, 
still to .some extent justify the ancient name of " the fort over against Anglesea," 
the town of Carnarvon is painfulK' modern; but wliat tliere is of it that is r(>ally 
old conveys the impression of media-valism more comi)let(']y than any other ])lace in 
Wales, except, perliaj)s, the old town of ConAvay. The walls of the castle, with their 
numerous towers and turrets, rise up to a jirodigious height above the quays, at Avhich 
little coa.sting A'cssels Avith red sails and gay streaks of paint take in their cargoes 
of slates. The great gateway looking out .seaAvard has a loftiness and a massiveness 
which cow tlu' spirit. But the outl(»ok lu-ncc becomes all the more beautiful by Avith this ca.stellated gloom. Yonder is the Isle of Anglesea— the sacred 
island — shinunering through a suidit mist, ami tlie Strait : with sandlianks \ isihle 
hero and there, and flocks of sea-birds soaring and dipping and .screaming, is like 
a broad river, Avidoiing it.self to its utmost until it becomes impossible to distinguish 
between river an<l .Ma. 

At the head oi tlie Pass of Nant Francon. and beliind the huge, dark, 
tlircatening shoulder of Carnedd Dal'ydd, Llyn Ogwen stretches along for al)out 

The Ogwex.] 



a mile or so, hemmed in at its furtlier extremity by a low ranpc of hills. In 
Cumberland this lake would l)e called a tarn, as would also Lhii Idwal, a 
sort of miniature Wastwater, which lod<>es in a hollow, among- deep and gloomy 
precijjiccs, a few hundred yards to the left. "This," wrote Leland, "is a snujule 
poule, where they say that Idwalle, Prince of Wales, was killed and drounid." 

" No human ear but Dunawt's heard 
Young Idwal'.s (lying scream," 

says the ballad in which the tradition is enshrined. The appearance of the 
place nuiy well have suggested either the legend in modern or the crime in 
ancient days. In stormy weather the surroundings of the little lake are incon- 
ceivably wild and forbidding, and the wind SAvirls about in this hollow of the 
rocks until L\\n Idwal boils like a sea. 

Ogwen is a lake of gentler and moi-e serene asjiect. At Its foot, under Carncdd 
Dafydd, where the coach-road crosses, its waters, with those from Llyn Idwal, 
form the Falls of Benglog, so 
well described by an older 
writer that his words shall 
be made to serve the purpose 
here. "The highest Fall," 
observes Blugley, " is grand 
and majestic, yet by no 
means equal to the other two. 
At the second, or middle. 
Fall the river is precipitated, 
in a tine stream, through a 
chasm Ijctween tuo j^erpen- 
dicular rocks that each rise 
several yards above. The 
mountain, Trivaen, fills up 
the wide space at the top, 
and forms a rude and sub- 
lime distance. The stream 
widens as It descends, and 
below passes over a slanting 
rock, which gives It a some- 
what different direction. In 
the foregroimd Is the rugged 
bed of a stream, and the 
water Is seen to dash In 
various directions among 
lirokeu masses of rock." At 
the lowest fall "the stream , „„-. 




[The Ogwen. 

roars with <rrcat furv. and in one sheet of foam, down an unbroken and almost 
perpendicular rock. The roar of tlie water, and the limkcn and uncouth 
di.spositiou of the surrounding rocks, add g-reatly to the interest of the scene.'" 
And from these Falls of Beng-log one looks down tlie wide, treeless vale of Xant 
Fi-ancon, a broad, peaty marsh, the bed of some ancient lake, as it would appear, 
hennned in by dark ridges of mountains. 

Throughout the whole length of Nant Francon the river ()(i\VKX is a thin, 
quiet, windin*:-. silverv stream, inisheltered by bush or tree ; but as it a]i})roachet> 


the I'letiie.-da slate cpiarries it is shadowed l)y its iirst foliaizc. lliat seem? 
designed to hide froiM it the gigantic outrage on which was l)uilt tlie scattered 
and rather extensive town of Bethesda, and which has nmde Lord I'enrhyn one 
of the wealthiest mendiers ol' the House of Lcn-ds. Below the line bridge leading to 
the ipiarries the river is lost among deep woods; but. pursiiinL;- it further, one 
comes most unexpectedly on a lont:' ami romantic series nl' cascades, coutinuing 
until the (Jgwen is lost to sight in a dee]. li..llnw lilleil with iiii>t ami luaui. 
The river has a beautiful and picturi'sipa- l»end as it passes behind the cottages 

The Og-oen.] 



of Betliesda, a mile or so lower down, and tlienceforward it becomes a river some- 
thing like the Lliigwy in appearance, tumbling- over short cataracts, or wandering 
deep among woods, or emerging now and again amid pleasant green spaces, its 
banks shaded by overhanging trees. 

As Carnedd Dafydd, and its twin, Llewelyn, are left behind there comes in 

THE SWALLO"n" FALLS {p. 210). 

sight the steep side and dark, rounded summit of Penmaenmawr, and then, on 
an opposite and less conspicuous eminence, looking over Bangor and the Menai 
Strait, and sunvninded by woods in which the Ogwen is for a while completely 
hidden, rises Penrhyn Castle, the seat of Lord Penrhyn, with one great square, 
tm-reted tower dominating all the country roundabout. Henceforth the river 
is little seen until it flows out, through a deep ravine, on to the broad, sandy 
flats which stretch from Bangor to Beaumaris, its short, swift, troubled life 
ending thus in sunlit 2)eace. 

210 nrvKUS of gkeat huitais. [Thi lut-wt. 

The steep mountain-sides wliieli lieni in Lake 0<i"\ven at its foot are so 
black. Itaie. niniroil, and forl)idding, as to sui^gest the skeleton of an unfinished 
world. A kindlier seenerv opens out beyond the head of the lake, Avhere the 
river LuiiWV — the first of the tril)utaries of the Conway which luivc now \n be 
noticed — after wandering downwards from a small mountain tarn under the shadow 
of Carnedd Llewelvn, runs through a wild and line jiass to Capel ( 'urig. The 
vallev is hemmed in bv the great mountains, ami to the south rise the three 
peaks of Y Tryfan, with the Glyder-Fach in the hollow to its left. 

At t'apel ("urig, wlu're is l'ont-v-( iarth, the Llugwy is an iucoiispicudus stream, 
but it irr.iws wider, ami its valle\' becomes very beautiful, inmu'diately after leaving 
that place, where it is joined 1)V the waters from the two small lakes which make 
the best of all the foregrounds to Snowdon. Here is "a region of fairy beauty 
and cf wild grandeur," as George Borrow says. Moel Siabod, "a mighty mountain, 
bare and precipitous, with two peaks like those of Pindus, opposite Janina,"" here 
hides its sternness amid woods of oak and fir. Above the lakes, all the peaks of 
Snowdon are in sight — Y Wyddfa, which is the suunnit ; Lliwedd, ''the triple- 
crested" : cragg\- Crib-Goch, advancing itself before thi' rest; and ( 'rib-y-I)dysg\l. To 
the right of the valley, which has Moel Siabod on its left, there i-; a curving 
raiige of rockv heights, their harshness softened l)y bracken and dwarf shrubs, 
and beyond, and high abov«'. is the stony wilderness of the Glyder-Fach. 

Afon Llugwy — a/on being the pretty \ word for ''river" — flows through 
one of the most beautiful of all pastoral valleys on its way from Capel Gurig to 
the Swallow Falls. Every bend of the stream, every green, shady iioid, every 
l(»ng stretch of rock impeded water has appeared again aiul again on the walls of 
the great picture exhibitions; for there is no river of Wales which is so much 
haunted by artists as this which we are now following to its junction with the 
Conway. At Pont-y-Cyfing — a nujdern bridge of a single tall arch — the river 
jtlunges through riven cliffs, boils round enormous masses of rock, and then tumbles 
over a b(dd cascade, to recover its (piiet almost immediately; but only to be again 
driven into tm-bulencc where a pretty rustic bridge strides aeross, to give unimpeded 
view of a succession of rapids above and below. 

The Llugwy dreams along thrmigh jdeasant meadows ami by (luiet woods 
before it conies to the famous K'haiadr-y-^Vennol (the ^Vaterfall of the Swallow). 
^Vhenee, one is driven to ask, conies such a name as this r The easy and the usual 
reply is that these arc called Swallow Falls because of the swiftness with which 
the water descends. I>ut all waterfalls are .swift. The correct answer to the 
(|ue.stioii suggests it.self, as one continues to gaze, through a mist of line spray, 
when the river Cfunes down in an autumn Hood. The ears deafened by the lush of 
the cataract, the eves dazzled and fascinated li\ the ln-endtli and the mass of the 
fulling waters, a dim sense of .something white, with lilaek streaks jieic and there, 
over|)ower.s all other impressions. As the river sweeps downwanl ovei- the higher 
fall, it is Idoken ami divi<led 1»\ dark pillars ol rock. Yes. tlia' is the idea, certainly. 

The Llugwy.] 



What these Falls suugestcd to the ancient inhabitants of Wales, to those who 
gave its name to the Khaiadr-y-Wennol, was the swift alternation between the 
white gleam of the swallow's breast and the dark shadow of its wings, as it 
darted to and fro between river and sky. George Borrow has a concise, vivid, 
and fairly correct description of the Falls, which may be quoted here because it is 
impossible to put the matter in fewer words. "First," he says, "there 
are a number of little foaming torrents, bursting through rocks aliout twenty 
yards al)i)ve the promontory on which I stood; then come two beautiful rolls of 
white water, dashing into a pool a little above the promontory ; then there is 
a swirl of water round its corner into a pool below, black as death, and 
seemingly of great depth ; then a rush through a very narrow outlet into another 
pool, from whicli tlie water clamours away down the glen." 

We have had the last sight of the mountains for a while when Ave enter the 
little, rock-poised wood from which the Swallow Falls are to be seen. The grand, 
solitary mass of Moel Siabod lies behind us, one grey, far-away peak of Snowdon 
exhibiting itself over the lowermost slope. Henceforth, almost to Bettws-y-Coed, 
the course of the Llugwy is through a deep, rocky, and finelv-wooded glen. 
It is Matlock on a more magnificent scale. It is the High Tor repeating 
itself again and again, in greater grandeur of scale, and with additional beauty 
of surroundings. Wild nature is here clothed and softened by luxuriant foliage, 
which towers up to the heights. The bare rock is visible onlv where the river 



[The Lircwv. 

courses through the deep woods, wliifh arc to Ix' socn to most advantage from 
the Miners' Bridizv, slanting far upward across the river to the ojjposito slojie — 
a bridge of rough sections of tree trunk bound together, with a hand-rail of 

Flujla: I. SUiIrr, Uandndnn. 

MOEI. SIAIIOI), I'HOM Tin M.IT.WV f //. 'Jll). 

long boughs for scciin'fy— a bridge erected in an emergoncy. and for a temporary 
purpose, as one niidit guess; a bridge of perilous slo])e. lias dune good 
service- to more lliini one generatinn ol miners, clindiiiig up llie lilllside 1o llu-n 
daily toil. 

' »f l'iettws-y-(!oed — ''tlie i5ede House in tlie Wond "' — so nmeli is knnwn lliat 
little need^ in this pl.-iee to be said lieic is I'uiitv I'air. and a scene wliicli painting 

The Lligwy ] 



has made more familiar tlian almost any other in these islands. The brid.o-e has 
been associated mth the name of Inigo Jones, but at least the base of the 
structm-e dates back to the fifteenth century, being the work of a mason who must 
also have been a fine architect, and who died, as it seems, before his work was 

I ONT \ rAIB, 

complete. It has four loftv arches, about which an ancient and gnarled ivy clings. 
Below, when the water is quiet, one may see the trout dashing al»out amid the 
pools. The river-bed is riven and torn, and full of craggy masses. A rocky islet, 
on which clusters a most picturesque grou}) of fir trees, divides the accelerating- 
waters, that now, after one final battle with obstructions, sweep sharply round a 
curve, and shortly join the Conway. 

The valley of the LlTlPr always presents itself to this present writer's recollection 
as he beheld it first, at the end of a dry summer, when the eye feasted without 


weariness on glowing coloin-. and when every bend of tlie river opened up some 
piece of countrv whieli was like one of Turner's glorious dreams. He saw it last 
on a dav of drifting rain. And in wet or in dry seasons the Lledr valley permits 
of no comparison between itself and any other. It is inec^nparahle in its various 
beautv ; it is unique in its power of attraction, in its way of producing a 
satisfying sense of something wholly individual and complete. High up towards 
Blaenau Festiniog it has little beauty ; but before the stream reaches Dol- 
wvddelen Castle the real Lledr valley begins, and is thenceforward down to the 
junction with the Conway a perpetually changing scene of loveliness. Here 
again ^loel Siabod, seen in a new aspect, but always striking in form and 
noble in proportions, seems to dominate the landscape. It may be seen from 
one impressive point with Dolwyddelen Castle in the middle distance. This ruin is 
the fragment of an ancient stronghold which derives all its jjrescnt importance from 
the beautv of its situation. A single tower occupies the summit of a I'ocky 
knoll, and stands out clear against its misty mountain background. Yet the 
castle was fairlv large in its day, occupying the whole surface of the hill. 
Here lived lorwerth Drwvndwn, whoso fortune in battle gained him his surname 
of "the Broken Xose''; and here, too, Llewelyn the Great is said to have been 
born. At a later da}- the castle became the residence of Howel Coetmor, a 
notorious outlaw and robber cliief. who so harried his neighbours tliat tliey 
.sat in church with weapons in tlieir luxnds. A Koman road crossed tlie Lledr ar 
the village of l)olw\-ddelen. wliich is about a mile from tlu> castle, and tliere are 
still distinct Ronum remains on the hill above the village. But 1(4 no one, on that 
account, meditate on tlie ruins of emi)ires at the railway station which is called 
lionian Bridge, for the road crossed tlie river at quite anotlicr jilace. and tlie 
bridge is of an antiquity corresponding to that of the relic which was discovered 
l»y the credulous hero of Sir Walter Scott's romance. 

The Lledr wanders about its valley as if it were lolh to leave. It makes 
huge loops and bends, almost knotting itself sometimes into what the sailors call "a 
figure of eight." The wliole valley is a combination of wildness and fertility, 
of wide prospects and confined glinqises of sylvan 1)eauty, of Avooded hills and 
frowning crags and broken upland. In rainy weather innumeralile foamy 
.streams swell the Lledr, until, in some portions of its course, it seems to make 
a series of lakes. The oldest bridge is Pont-y-Pant, not far from tlie entrance 
to tlie valley from the directiim of Bettws-y-Coed. Below this the stream 
Iiurrics onwards through woods and meadow-land, under mighty bhifTs which 
are wooded to their summits, and, issuing at length from its rorky Itarriers, 
adds to the Conway a volume of water that is equal to its own. 

The river .M.\(.uxo falls into the Conway a mile or two beyond its junction 
witli the Lh'dr. It is a sliort river, drawing to itself a nundter of little mountain 
streams, an<l its ])rincipal feature — liut that is of the first importance from tlu' 
tourist point of view — round whidi paintrrs of landscape seem to cncanq) them.selves 

Till; Machno.] 



all the year through, the falls of the 
Machno, combines every element of 
what one ma}- call the oriHnary pic- 
turesque. The river fuams among 

rhoto : Green Bros., Grasmcre. 


crags and boulders, and between rocky ledges, from wliich the trees hang dizzily, 
casting deep shadows across the stream, and nuiking green rctlcctious in each 
swirling pool. Then, too, there is Pandy ]\Iill, making a sunshine in the shady 
place, and a mill-wheel with a tumbling jet of water ; and natm-e seems to have 
lavished all its softer endearments on this exquisite little scene, delighting the eye 
with tender arrangements of moss and film-fern, and lichen and hoar boughs. 

Not far below this pretty landscape cameo are the Falls of the Conway^ 
whore the river rushes on through a gorge of dark, sloping, almost columnar 
rocks, and then — divided by a tall crag, on which one or two small bushes 
have contrived to grow — bends and plunges down two steep descents to where 
a half-ruinous salmon leap brings to mind the eminence of the Conway as a 

The Coxwat.] 


fishing- river. And next, the Fairy Glen I Tliis is a <]^eniune ravine, where 
the stream forces itself hctwccn riven cliffs, and flows in deep, rapid streaks 
of peaty-brown water among- a wilderness of grey rocks, plunging downward, 
thereafter, into a wild glen overhung by woods. The name of the Faiiy Glen 
would seem inajipropriate enough to such a scene were it not that here, again, 
Nature has thrown all numner of rustic decorations about this frowning gorge. 
The sunlight, too, seems to till the place in a strange, mystic way, so that the 
lichen-encrusted rocks are seen through a kind of blue, misty glamoiu*, and 
there is a suggestion of rainljow colour over all. 

From the road high above the Fairy Glen there is a fine prospect of the 
mountains. Moel Siabod seems to have come nearer, and the far distance is 
closed in by the Glyders, Tryfan, 
and the Carnedd Llewelyn range. 
Down in the valley is the Llyn- 
yr-Afanc, or the Beaver's Pool, 
and nearer to Bett\vs-y-Cocd the 
river is crossed by the tine . 

span of the iron Ijridge which 
was built in the year of the 

battle of Waterloo. 

The Conway has no par- 
ticular attractiveness as it passes 

Bettws, where David Cox's famous 

signboard may still be seen at 

the Royal Oak Hotel. It has 

here a green margin of meadow- 
land, which grows broader as 

we proceed towards Llanrwst, a 

sweetly-placed little market town, 

to which small vessels seem to 

have made their way in the 

last century, for a sailor who 

penned a diary in 17(19 wrote 

how " Jjlanrwst is situated in a 

very deep bottom on the river 

Conway, betwixt Denbigh hills 

and Carnarvon rocks, some of 

which appear to hang over the 

town. Nevertheless, we found a 

much better anchorage than we 

could have expected at such a 



218 RirERS OF GREAT BRITAIX. [Tur Cos«ay. 

This sailor w;is an obsorving man, for ho continnos : — '• Llanrwst is 
a small market-town, auitaining one cluiroh. a niavket-hall, as thev eall it. and 
about liftv or sixty houses, but never a godd liouse among llic wliole Int." 
There are some good liouses nowadays, however, and a line stduc bridg(> of 
three arches, witli a peculiarly high and graceful spring. Here, again. lh( 
design is attributed to Inigo Jones, as, perhaps, ought to be the case in tlic 
immediate country of that renowned architect. Gwydir Castle, the family mansion 
of tlie Wvnns, is a conspicuous object among the woods wliich here cluster 
inider the feet of the craggy ( 'arnarvonsliire hills. It has now passed, through 
tlie hands of the Earl of Ancaster, whose forbears nuirried with the Wynn 
familv, into the possession of the Earl Carrington. The founder of the castle 
was Sir .John Wvnn of Gwydir. who represented Carnarvoiisliirc in I'lirliii'iicnt 
in l"j!)<i, and whose suul is .said to be iinprisoned under tlic Swallow J'alls, 
"there t<i be punished, jmrged, .spouted upon, and purified tnini the luul deeds 
done in his days of nature.'' A ti'uly tremendous nudedictinn 1 Some traces 
of the sixteenth-century building still remain, Imt the present castle belongs to 
our own century, though it contains carved work of the reigns of Elizabeth and 

At Llanljcdr, on tlie hills above the Llanrwst road, ma\' be found one of tlu> 
most remarkable primitive fortitications that are to be seen an\wliere in tlies(^ 
i.slaiuls, Pen-Caer-IIelen by nam(\ " It was a British jiost of great strength," 
savs Pennant, "in .sf)mc parts sinuidarly i;uarded. It had the usual fosses, and 
vast ramparts of .stones, Avith some remains of the facing of walls, and tli(> foundations 
of three or four round buildings." The remains are still verv extensive, and 
dearlv indicate the extent of the ancient stone ranij)arts. it was a post Ironi 
which a very great extent of country could be .surveyed. In one direction nuii 
look over the Conway and the Denbighshire hills, as far as the vallev >>i' the 
Chvyd ; in another, the eye stretches over a barren waste to the Carnedd 
Llewelvn range. The Tireat and the Little < )rmc are in sight, and I'litlin Island, 
and the .sea. 

The Conway is still navigable by small vessels as far as Trefriw, a prettx \ illanc 
of small houses and neat villas, clu.stering under the hill, and to the cnaili 
road. Trefriw is renowned not cmly for its sitiuitioii. but for its "Fairy Falls," 
and its "spa," which, .says Mr. nalliwell-FhilliiJS, yields "the na.stiest chalvbeate I 
ever had the folly to ta.ste." For some distati<(> below Trefriw, the river, now 
broader and niin-h more deep, runs for a \\bil(' between great masses of tall reeds 
and sedge, and then ojiens out into a lakedike width, with siu-h a ])ro.spect of 
.spreading water, and woods and mountain, as recalls the characteristic beauti(>s of 
Windermere. Very delightful indeed is a v<>\age in the litth' sliaincr wliicli 
jjlies between Degaiiwy, ('oiiway, ami Trclriw; but it is at Conwa\ .Maisli that 
the river i.s at its noblest. When the tide is out. this is a broad, sweeping, 
sandy bay, with oozy spaces of lnit.dit green towards its centre; and when the 

The Conway.] 



tide is full, it has the appearance of a large ami l)eautiful islanded lake. The 
river is walled in on the Conway side, and a thick wood shadows the stream as 
it bends romid towards the sea. It is here that one of the most effective views 
of Conway Castle conies into sio-ht, with the two white brido-es stretching- over 


the narrowing channel, and the great circular towers clustering- together in such 
manner as to convey a most formidable impression of massiveness and strength. 
One naturally compares Conway with Carnarvon Castle. The two buildings are 
said to have been designed by the same architect, and, of their kind, tliev are 
among- the finest in the world. Carnarvon Castle is more elaborated in idea, 
more ingenious, more decorative, and in general aspect more grand ; but Conway 
suggests a greater antiquity, a more solid strength, a sounder and more artistic 
unity of structure. It is a mere ruin, ha\dng- been dismantled in 1665. Even 
before that period it seems to have been abandoned to time. There is a letter of 
James I.'s reign which says that '' the King's Castle of Conway, in the county of 
Carnarvon, is in great ruin and decay, whereof the greater jiart hath been downe 
and uninhabitable for manie ages past ; the rest of the timber supporting the roof 
is all, or for the most part, rotten, and gi'owth daylie by wet more and more in 
decay, no man having dAvelt in anic part thereof these thirty years past." There 



[The Cov-n-AY. 

is no rocif at all now; the timbers are loiiir consunieJ ; the eastle is (jutted through- 
out ; an»l A'ct. as seen from the Conway river, the castle still has a certain auijust 
and complete majestv. as if time could do it no real despite. 

Conwav Castle, with the Conway mountain, on whicli tliere is a British fort, 
towering: up in the rear, held complete command of the estuary. It was an, not a Welsh, .stronirhold, being built bv f]dward I., about 1"2S|. Queen 
Eleannr is said ti> have lived then* witli the king, and one of the towers has been 

■ -S"^***;. 




named tlie "Queen's" tower in memory of that event. The great hall, wliicli was 
supported on vaults, wa.s L'JO feet long In' 32 feet broad. The ca.stle was l)esi('ged 
in l',"JO by Madoc, one of the sons of Llewelyn, the English king himself being 
present on the occasion. A fleet bringing provisions saved the garrison just as it 
was being .starved into surrender. AVlien Bolingbroke landed in England, and 
lii<-hard II. found himself abandoned 1)y his army, he Hed here for safety, and 
at this ca.stle, it is averred, was his abdication signed. 

('(jiiwav town, .sloping swiftlv down to the riverside, and almost wholly enclosed 
within its manv-towered walls, looks like a contemporary illustration of Froissart. 
There is no otlier such perfect specimen of a small mediaeval walled town now 
remaining. Tlie fortifications climb up a .steep hillside, in a triangular form— or 
rather, a.s lia.s been .said, so as to make the figure of a Welsh harp. The liighest 
point i)t <he triangle is so far above the other portions of the walls that the 
whole has that quaint look of being out of perspective which is the most 
pronounced characteristic of all mediaval draughtsman.ship. 

The Conway.] 



Across tlie water, and on tlie way to Llandudno, tlie little town, or village, or 
city of Began wy half hides itself among the sands, just above the verge of what 
was formerly, and even up to recent times, a marsh stretching from opposite 
Conwa}' to Llandudno Bay. It Avas hereabout, but on the Conway side of the 
river, that the pearl-fishing was carried on : — 

" Conway, which out of his streame cloth send 
Plenty of pearls to deck his dames withal " — 

says Spenser, in the "Faerie Queene." The pearl fishery liad once a real importance. 

Su' Richard Wynn of Gwydir presented to the queen of Cliarles IL a Conwa}' 
pearl, which afterwards adoi'ncd the regal crown. This was probably of a kind that 
was found higher up the river, at Trefriw. A more common variety was found in 
abundance on the bar, and the collection of the pearl-beariog mussels was for a 
long time a distinct and regular industry. "As for the pearls found in these 
mountainous rivers," said a letter- writer of the seventeenth century, "they are very 
jilentiful, and unconnnonly large, though few of them well coloured. They are 
found in a large, black muscle, peculiar to such rivers. Several ladyes of this 
county and Denbighshire have collections of good pearlc, found chieHy in the river 


niyi:iis of nninT niuTArx. 

[The Conway. 

Deganwy, " tlio place where tlie Avliite waves break up^n tlie shore."' was a vo\ al 
residence from a very remote period. It liad a castle. Avliich is said to liave been 
erected in the sixth century by Maeljrwyu <;\vynedd, and to have been destroyed 
by Llewelyn the Great, wiiose statue is to be seen in Conway town. " It was a 
noble structure," says Giraldus Cambrensis, '* and its possession was held to be of 
great importance to the English, so that Kandal Blondevil, Earl of Chester, rebuilt 
it in l'2\0. King John encamped at Deganwy two years later, but was compelled 
to retreat with his army before Llewehni. There were Dtlier roj-al retreats from 
Deganw}-, before the fierce Welsh, in 1245, 1"258, and IJli'J. There wen> "great 
ruines •' of the castle in Leland's time; but now it is with difficulty that anv 
fragment is discerned. Deganwy itself has become a Avatering-jdace, a small rival 
to Llandudntj, nuiinly attractive because it presents a magnificent view of the estuary 
i>f the Conway, and of the fine range of nuiuntains which ends in Penmaemnawr. 

Llandudno, for the most ])art, orcu})ies the flat and formerly niarsli\- space 
between the Great and the Little ()rnu\ It is altogether a favoiiralile t\i)e 
of the modern watering-place; but it need not detain us here, im' we liave 
reached the point at which the river broadens out into Conway Bay, and is lost 
ainoiig the in-rushing waves of the Irish Sea. 





The Clwyd : Rhyl— KhiuWIan Castle— The Elwy— A Welsh fJretna Cireen— St. Asjiph—Denliioh— Ruthin. The Dee : 
B:ila Lake — Corwen — A'ale of Llangollen and Valle Cnieis Abbey— Uina.s Bran— The Ceuiog— Chirk Castle and 
Wynnstay— The .-Vlyn— Eaton Hall— Chester— Flint. 

T~1HE toAvn of Rliyl is like a ineoe of Liverpool or Manchester, " borne, like 
J- Loretto's chapel, through the air," and arrano-ecl in long terraces and orderly 
blocks on a piece of flat coast-land near the mouth of the river ('i.wvd. The ^ilace has 
been much praised by a grandiloquent writer who, in the very height of his rapture, 
had to admit that "the great object of attraction was the sun setting in a flood 
of golden beauty on his evening throne.'' It is a spectacle that mav be observed 
elsewhere. The virtue of Rhyl is that it is easily accessible from large centres of 
population, that it enjoys pure and bracing air, that it has a vast expanse of 
tirm sands, that the Great Orme and the Penmaenmawr range look verv noble and 
beautiful from its broad promenade, and that soft winds blow towards it from the 
pleasant Vale of Clwyd. 

But in the immediate neiglibourhood of Rhyl even the famous vale has no 
attractiveness. The bare river ilows through bare mud. This enormouslv wide valley 
is, for the most part, a soft, dark marsh, on which a tliiii vegetation straggles to 
maintain a dank existence. But even from Rhyl there are agreeable views of what 
the Welsh call Dyffryn Clwyd, the Vale of the Flat, "the Eden of Wales." Three 
miles away, over an absolutely level and barren space, the wooded knolls and the 
dark towers of Rhuddlan advance almost to the centre of the valley, and have a 
fine impressiveness when they arc thrown into relief by the shadow of some passing 
cloud. The Clwydian hills seem to close in behind them, with ^loel Faramau in the 
remote distance. The old poet, Thonuis Chm-chyard, says : 

" Tlie vale doth reach so far in view of man 
As he far of may see the seas, indeede ; 
And who awhile for pleasure travel can 

Throughout this vale, and thereof take good heede, 
He shall delight to see a soj'le so fine, 
For ground and grass a passing plot devine ; 
And if the truth thereof a man may tell, 
This vale alone doth all the rest excell." 

However, it is not until after Rhuddlan has been passed that the great fertility 
of the Vale of Clwyd declares itself, and to pass Rhuddlan is impossible without 
some examination, and without some ransacking of one's historical memory; for 

The CL-n-YU.] 



poor and unimportant as it now seems, tliis little place has played a great 2)art in 
the history of Wales. 

A long liridge of several arches stretches over from the high road wliich crosses 
the niai-sh, to a steep, firm ascent, a little church with a square tower, and a few 
small cottages. Other cottages, mostly set amid neat gardens, border on the curves 







of what is more like a countr}' lane 
than a village. Then suddenly, for it 
has been hidden by trees, one comes 
face to face with the colossal fragments 
of what nuist have been a nearly impregnal)le castle, poised on the summit of a bare, 
rounded hill, its huge towers buried in ivy, its outer walls sloping down to the 
Clwyd, and to an outer tower which has long been half in ruins, but whicli is so 
strongly built that it may still, f(jr centuries to come, defy the nuTlice of Tinu'. On 
the partially reclaimed morass on the further side of tlie river, where a herd of 
black Welsh cows is grazing, the Saxons under Offa, King of Mercia, fought a 
great battle with the Welsh, under Caradoc, Prince of Wales, in 795. C'aradoc 
and many of his principal chieftains were slain. The well-known air of " Morva 


22C RIVERS OF GREAT nnnWlX. [Tnr Eow. 

Kluuldlan " comuienioratcs tlio event, and the native poet sinus, not without sweet- 
uess and patlios : 

" I seek the warrior's lowly bed 

On RhuiUiliins uiai-sb ; but cannot trace 
A vestige of the noble dead. 

Or aught to murk their resting place. 
Green rush and reeds are all that gnice 

The graves of those in fight who fell, 
For freedom — for their land and i-ace, 

Oh fatal field ! farewell, farewell ! " 

Wliore Rhuddlan Castle stands there was a fortress so early as lOlo. and it was 
taken liv Harold Godwinson, in Edward the Confessors time. l^aldwin. Arch- 
bishop of Canterbury, rested at IJluuldlan in 1167, wlien lie was pR'acliini;- a ( 'rusade. 
Edward I. took Khuddlan Castle in TiTT, and here it was that his sun. recently 
born at Carnarvon, was proclaimed Prince of Wales. Edward made the place his 
•rrand depot for arms and jn-ovisions, and his principal residence whilst he was 
enga<red in the con(iue.«<t of Wales. It was to lihuddlan, too, that Llewelyn 
eon.>;ented to repair to take the oath of fealty. The castle pa.ssed into the liaiids of 
the IMai'k I'rince in the rei<i'n of Edward III. liichard II. was here held in lumour- 
alile captivity after hi.s return from his expedition to Ireland. The forces of the 
Parliament unsuccessfully besieged the place in 1645, but cajjtured it a year later, 
when it was ordered to l)e dismantled, and the lonu", troabled chapter of its 
historv was finally clo.xed. 

The sea conies up to Khuddlan. which, indeed, has some sliglit pretensions a.s 
a port; then, with flat meadows on one side and low-hang-ing Avoods on the otlier, 
the Clwvd bends about, this Avay and that, until, before long, it is joined by the 
river Ei.wv, which, as it is a jnx'tty river to follow, and takes us to St. .Vsaj)!!, 
we shall, for a while, keej) company. The Elwv is a meiry, romantic, .sjiaded 
.stream, with abundant trout. It i.s fringed by willow and hazel copse. Sometimes 
it is wholly lost in foliage, except for a silvery gleam among the leaves; some- 
times it comes out into the sunlight, and Hows by shingly holms and nniddy Hats. 
A jieaceful, rich. j)astoral countrv is llial through wliicli it courses merrily on its 
way, witli here and there groups of cattle Inuldling under the hedges foi- coolness 
and sliade. The water is .stained liiown with peat, telling of its birth on mountain 
.slopes. IJelow Efynnon Pair, .seated on the lirow of a hill, it receives the waters of 
a holy w<'ll, once .sheltered by shrine woik, and a place of pilgrimage, as the ivy- 
clad ruins of a cruciform chapel still declare. And this chapel was also the 
(iretna Green of Wales, a place for the nmrriage of runaway couples, as this 
ancient record shows: — "1611. M(>m. : Thatt upon Er\daye, at night, happening 
upon vij. dav of F'"ebruarie, one P\'ers (Iritlith ab Inn (ir\f\(l(l, my brother in lawe, 
was married clandestineK" with one Jane nh Thomas hys .second wiell at the chapel 
at Wicwer called ( 'ape! Pynnon P;iir." 

Ilii' Elwv loses the shadow of its willows and hazels a mile or so below St. 
.\>;iph, which is five miles upwards from b'hvl. A\ inding among deep banks of 

The Klwv.] ST. AS APE, DENBIGH. 227 

rich soil, it makes the necessary part of a i)rettv picture when, flowing under a 
fine stone bridge of five arches, it forms a foregromid for one of the smallest cities, 
cro^\^^ed by the smallest cathedral, in all these islands. St. Asaph may be satis- 
factorily explored in half an hour's time. It spreads itself over a hill, which is 
called Bryn Paulen, after some legendary Paulinus, a Roman general. The cathe- 
dral, which is no more than an average-sized church, is the central and highest 
object. St. Kentigern is said to have built a church of wood on the site about 
the middle of the sixth century, when he was driven from Scotland by a prince 
who declined to be won from Paganism. St. Asaph, who was a native of Wales, 
succeeded as bishop when Kentigern returned to Scotland. He built a church of 
stone, in which he was buried in 576. For five hundred years the sec has no 
dependable history; but in the period of the Civil Wars there was a cathedral in 
which horses and oxen were stabled, and a see whose revenues were sequestrated 
by Parliament. The building was restored, when Charles 11. came to the throne, 
by Bishop Griffith, and a bishop's palace was erected by his successor, who was 
none other than the learned Isaac Barrow. The cathedral of St. Asaph contains 
the tomb of this distinguished prelate, and a monument to Mrs. Hemans, who 
spent a large portion of her life in the Vale of Clwyd, as readers of her poems 
may easily discover. In front of the cathedral stands a tall red- sandstone monument, 
erected in memory of Bishop Morgan, ' the first translator of the Bible into the 
language of Wales. 

From a couple of miles above St. Asaph to the meeting of the waters above 
Rhuddlan, the Clwyd and the Elwy pursue an almost parallel course, the Elwy in 
long bends and sweeps, the Clwyd with almost infinite small windings. To that 
point their streams have been almost at right angles t<i each other, the Elwy 
rising not far from the hills above Llanrwst, overlooking the Conway valley, the 
Clwyd flowing down by Ruthin and Denbigh, a thin thread of water, except in 
very rainy seasons, with its course worn so deep, after the lapse of ages, into the 
rich, yielding soil, that it is sometimes scarcely to be discerned as a feature in 
the landscape. 

Denbigh, say the etymologists, hazarding a guess, means "a small hill." In 
that case, the older designation, Caledfryn-yn-Rhos ("a rocky hill in Rhos"), was 
much more appropriate, for the town ascends by one long street to heights that 
appear mountainous to the tired pedestrian ; and from Denbigh Castle, the ruins 
of which occupy the summit of this "small hill," the land slopes off suddenly to 
an inmiense depth of rich pastoral landscape, enclosed in a basin of lofty but 
graciously rounded hills. Like Carnarvon, Denbigh Castle is to some extent being 
I'ebuilt ; but it is immeasurably a more hopeless sort of ruin. It was dismantled by 
order of Charles II., and the work seems to have been thoroughly accomplished, for 
the walls were of gi-eat strength, and it nnist have been a very determined act 
of destruction that ri^duced them to such fragments as now remain. Here, 
wifliin the actual walls of the castle, but in a cottage that has now been destroyed, 


[The Clwvd. 


ST. A- MM 

was Henry M. Stanley bovn. Tlio special distinction of Denbi^li, liowever, is that it 
was the last castle which held out for Charles I. It was, indeed, only surrendered at 
the king's own order, dated from Newcastle, when Charles was himself a prisonei- there. 
Kifrht miles further on is liuthin, which is another town that clusters about 
the summit <>f a hill. The castle here, which has been restored, and is still 
inhabited, was in existence in the reign of Edward I., and how nuich earlier is 
not known. We are now in the richest and most fertile portion of the Vale of 
Clwyd. witli its highest mountain not far away. To tlie summit of Moel 
Kaiinnau. 1.H4.) feet above the level of the sea, is onh* five miles. The momitain is 
crowned by the ugly luin of a tower which was erected at the jubilee of 
George III. Hence may be seen the valleys of the Dee and the Mersey, and, 
by aid of a telescope, the coasts of Lanctishire and Cheshire. Looking down the 
\'ale of Clwyd, the eye ranges over a landscape that is dotted about with farm- 
lirmses and herds of kine ; the white, tapering tower of Hodclwyddan Cliurch 
rises high above its trees, and Khyl, Llandudno, and Groat Orme's Head stand 
out clearly on the .sea margin far awav. At a greater di.stance, and in another 
direction, one may behold Snowdon and ( 'ader Idris. with tlu'ir summits buried 
in broodini: <"louds. 

The liver Ih;r. rises in a countrv which has lieen innnemoriallv associated with 
the ,\rt]iurian legends. Ileic, indeed, was the infant king connnitted to the care of 
old rim<»n. and here liis bdxhoud was sjK-nt — 

The Dee.] 



" In a valley green, 
Under the foot of Rauran mossy here, 
From whence the river Dee, as silver clene, 
His tombling billows rolls with gentle rore." 

So says Spenser, using a phrase whicli may have been in Shakespeare's mind when 
he made Bottom promise to " roar you as gently as any sucking-dove." Ahnost 
beyond counting are tlie streams which empty themselves into Bala Lake, high uj) 
among the ^^P'lks of Merionethshire. And they scarcely run dry in the hottest 
sunnners, for, as a cynical liunKirist has written — ■ 

" The weather depends on the moon as a rule, 
And I've found that the saying is true ; 
For at Bala it rains when the moon's at the full 
And it rains when the moon's at the new. 
" When the moon's at the quarter, then down conies the rain ; 
At the half it's no better, I ween ; 
When the moon's at three-quarters it's at it again, 
And it rains, besides, mostly between ! " 

The Dee is said to flow through the lake without mingling its waters — a tradition 
that may be gently set aside. It rises on the flank of Aran Benllyn, and already 
receives two tributaries before it joins Bala Lake at its head. At Llanuwchllyn, 
near to the spot at which tlie three little streams become one, it has grown important 
enough to be crossed by a rude stone bridge of two arches. 

I'hut L II U J. I I I I, I Ij I I , LI I 

UliMilGH (jj. '2'27 


Drayton spoaks of lialu Lake as Piiiililcnici'(>. That is a namo siu'iiifviiiL;' "'tlie 
lake of the five parislios." Llyu Toijid, tlie lake of beauty, is tlie favourite Welsh 
desi<niation. And a very lieautiful lake it is, thougli with less niajestv of sur- 
rounilin^s than one would expect to find at such a liei^lit, in such a eountrv, 
where, as George Borrow says, evervtliiuL;- is •■ too oraiul for melancholy. ' It was 
the largest sheet of water in Wales until Lake Vyrnwy was nuide, its length l)eing 
about four and a half miles by about a mile in average breadtli. In the Welsh 
mind it has filknl so large a place tliat tliere is a tradition of how the bursting of 
the banks of Bula Lake caused the Deluge. A feature tliat lias al\va\s attracted 
nmch attention is the influence of a south-west wind in driving its waters outward 
into the Dee. Thus, for exam]jle, writes Tennyson, speaking of Enid's nursing 
of Geraint : — 

' Her constant motion round liim, and tlie bieatli 
Of her sweet tendeuce lioveriug over him, 
Filled all the genial courses of his blood 
With deeper and with ever deeper love, 
As the south-west, that blowing Bala Lake, 
Fills all the sacred Deo." 

A sacred character has been associated with the Dee from the very earliest 
times. It was "holy" to the Druids; it was a "wizard stream" to Miltcui ; 
Drayton sjieaks of where " Dee's holiness begun," and credits it with presaging 
woe to the English or the Welsh according as, in one ])oi'tion of its course, it 
.shifted the bed of its stream. The Dee is a mountain-river from I'ala downwards. 
and until Llangollen has been passed. Its outlet from the lake is through a (juaint, 
manv-arched slone bridge — a bridge, as Coleridge might have said, "with a circum- 
bendiltus." The railway I'uns close at hand for the wliole of its course, 
which, for the jire.sent, lies through what is the peculiar eountrv of Owen (ilen- 
dower. We have encountered traces of this valiant clneftain at ]\Iachvnll(^th. 
Dolgelley, and everywhere that we have licen ; l)ut here, at ( 'orwen and 
roundabout, the country fairly reeks witli his meiuor\-. Tlie Dee is a fair, wide 
river when it leaves IJala Lake, and Hows for a wliile thronuh open meadow 
lands, to plunge before long and witli great suddemu-ss into a iHaiitifiil iiioiintain 
gorge, where it is overliung by tree.s. At the delightful village of Llaiidderfel it 
is cros.sed by another picturesque bridge, set among rockv hills which teem with 
wild legends, and .shortly thereafter it flows once more among wid(". ojien spaces, 
bare, bleak, and harried by the winds. The Vale of Edevrnioii is the name of 
tin.' country through which we hav(« just passed, and tliis valley, in wliicli the 
character of the .scenerv changes so conspicuoush- and so often, comes to an laid In-fore the town of ( 'orwen is reached. 

<^Jrey, .'<laty, nestling auiong trees and wooded heights, with a slate (piarry 
prominent in the foregrouml, with man\ odd, old-fashioned, solid-lonking hous(>s, 
('orwen lias a clnn-ch dedicated to .Mud imd Sulien, saints unknown to the Knglisli 
cali-mhir. Of Sulien it is said that he was "the "-odliest man and Lneatest clei-ke 

The Dii;-.] 



in all 'Wales." On a stono in the churchyard is shown "the true mark oi Owen 
Glendower's dagger," Avhieli weapon he threw from a rock behind the church, thus 
doing something more to surround his life with legend. Tb.ere was another Owen 

rhoto: CaHXormaii<tCo.,Tiinlirkl'jr Well 


whom the Corwen folk Ik .Id in hiving remembrance— that Owen Gwynedd, Prince 
of Wales, who opposed himself to Henry II., and who made so strong an encampment 
near the town that there were vestiges of it remaining in Pennant's time. 

There is an exquisite view of the Dee from what is known as Owen Glen- 
dower's Mound. The surrounding country is comparatively open; but the river is 
again, before long, lost ui a narrowing valley and among rich woods. And by 


[The Dee. 

this time we have come into the 
region of modern achievement. 
The valley of the Dee is now to 
be seen to most ailvantaufo from 
Telford's road, which brings us 
to more than one of the seven 
wonders of Wales, and first of 
all to the glorious \'alo of Llan- 
gollen. George IJorrow has 
too much limited the scoj)o 
and range of this glorious 
vallev. '' The northern side 
of the vale," he says, 
" is formed by 
certain enormous '.'^ " 
rocks called the 
Eglwyseg rocks, '.- 


wlii<"h extend from east to west, a distance of about two miles. The soiitlicrii side 
iH formed l)y tlie lierwyn bills." Here, says Mr. K'uskin. speaking liom a wide 
ob.servati<»n, " is .some (if the loveliest liiK.ik and glen .scenery in the world." 
'I'lie remains ni Vallc ( 'nuis give a sjicrjal Imiiiaii interest to a district that is 
won<l('rfallv full of beaut\- and diarni. Il was a Cistercian, niucli snudler 
than the other famous abbeys oi the .same order, but resembling them in certain 

The Dee.] 



high architectural qualities, as well as in the scclnsiveness of its situation. The 
abbey was founded by Sladoc, Lord of Bromfield, in the time of King John, in 
what was, even at that time, called the Valley of the Cross, in virtue of the 
mysterious " Eliseg's Pillar,"' which is still a puzzle to the antiquary. The ruins 
lie among steep hills — 

" For \vhen one lull behind your haeke you see, 
Another comes, two times as high as Dee," 

as Thomas Churchyard sings. The main tower of the abbey appears to have 
been standing in the days of this poet; l)ut now nothing remains but its piers. 
The pointed gables on the eastern and western ends of the church are, however, 
conspicuous objects still. The abbey is believed to have been at the point of 
highest prosperity in the time of Owen Glendower. Henry VIII. employed the 
abbot to draw out a Welsh pedigree for him, which was, no doubt, as faitlifully 
done as circumstances would allow. Two later abbots became Bishops of 8t. 
Asaph. And then followed the Dissolution, with all its waste and ruin. 

The Bridge of Llangollen is enumerated among the " seven wonders of Wales," 
four of which belong to tlie Valley of the Dee. It scarcely seems to deserve 
tliis particidar renown, thougli it is a very excellent specimen of a media-val 
bridge, its builder being John Trevor, Bishop of St. Asaph, who completed his 
work in 1350. The Dee at this point flows over a solid bed of rock, or, as 
Churchyard says : 

" And still on rocks the water runnes, you see, 
A wondrous way — a thing full I'are and strange, 
That rocke can not the course of waters change ; 
For in the streame huge stones and rockes remayne 
That backward might the flood, of force, constrain." 



Tlie name of Llangollen is, bv some authorities, derived from St. ('(Hlen, to avIkuh 
the church is dedicated. It is an ordinary enough little town in itself; hut is 
so remarkablv placed that the eye can scarcely turn in any dircctiou without 
finding pictures of most extraordinary beauty. 

(hi the side of the bridge fi'om the town tlie hill of Diiuis Ihan 
rises, a huge cotu', to the height of a thou.sand feet or so. It is so regular in 
its conical shape that it at first suggests artificial construction. But just at this 
place the hills are all abnormal. The Eglwyseg rocks, for exa!n2ile — best seen 
from the slope of l)inas Bran — might have been transported from some canon in 
Colorado. Thev arc a strange .series of cliffs, one above tho other, regular as 
walls, and with dark bushes clinging to them in such a manner as to suggest cave 
dwellings. They are a greater wonder than Dinas Bran itself, which, never- 
theless, is verv remarkable and striking. On its sunnnit is the ruin of wliat is 
])opularlv known as Crow Castle, attributed in local guide-books to the British, 
but obviously of much later construction, and probably a relic of Xorman times. 

I'^rom this singular eminence there is a far-.stretching view of the valley of 
tlie Dee, as the river speeds on its way to a rich and more open coinitry. Near 
to where the stream is further swollen by receiving the waters of t]i(> Ceiriog, it 
is spanned bv the majestic aqueduct which carries tlie A\aters of tlie Ellesmerc 
Canal, one of those few architectural achievements wliicli, ])lac("d where Nature 
has done her utmost, add a new l)eauty to their surroundings. l^veii more unre- 
.straiiied might be given to the; fine, slender, lofty pillars and arclus ol' ihe 
Dee viaduct, which is among the greatest works of the tireat Western liaihvay. 
The aipieduct is Telford's work, and tlie viaduct was built by Rolx'rtson. For 
the former, however, Telford claimed no credit, for he wrote thus in praise of his 
f<»renuin: — "The Vale of Llangollen is very fine, and not the least interesting 
object in it, I can a.ssure you, is Davidson's famous aqueduct, which is already 
reckoned among the wonders of Wales." 

( 'hurchj-ard differentiates very discreetly and observingly between the Ceiriog 
and tlie Dee. The one, he say.s, is " a wonderous violent water wlieii layne or snowe 
is greate," and the other is "a river deep and swifte," running "with gushing 
streanic.'' Tlie meeting-place of the two rivers is distinguished as the site of two 
famous, each surrounded by iiiie parks. On one side is tlie feudal casth^ of 
Chirk. an<l <m the other is Wynn.stay, which has long b(cn the seat of th(> great 
family after which it is named. Chirk Castle (kites back to tlu; eleventh century. 
It was tin- home of Myddlet(ms to wlioiii lulonged tliat famous Sir Ilugli 
Myddleton who brought the New Iviver to London. Wynnstay also has its histt^ix, 
ffir here lived Madoc ap (JrufFydd Maelor, who built Valle Crucis Abbey. It is now 
the principal .seat of Sir Watkin \\'illiams Wynn, po.sse.ssions are .so i-xteii.sive 
that \\i- is sometimes called the real Prince of Wales. Tlie present Hall dates only 
from a time tliat is still verv recent, for its jiredece.ssor was biinieii liown in IS.VS. 
From tlie terrace of \\ \ nnstav there is sucli a view of ilie 1 )ee ot wood, of 

The Dee.] 



river, of lofty l)ridge and distant mountains slo^oos — as seems almost to belong to 
the landscape of another world. 

The Dee has tinally emerged from the mountainous eouutry when it flows, with 
many a sharp l)end, and long, glittering loop, between the grounds of Chirk Castle 
and of "Wynnstay. It is shortly to become a river that is English on tlie one side 

J'lioto : H ud^o 

EATON HALL (/). 237). 

and Welsh on the other, and already, except in the distance, we have seen the last 
of the characteristic scenery of North Wales. The Dee now courses through a 
country of wide plains. OfCa's Dyke runs in a straight line through the grounds of 
Chirk Ca.stle, almost to the point at which tlie stream is cr<jssed )jy the railway 
\"iaduct. Watt's Dyke commences on the other side of the Dee, a littli' lower 
down, and proceeds through the grounds of Wvnnstay, past Ruabon, in the direction 
of Wrexham. What may have been the 2->urpose of these ancient fcn'tifications is u 
question which the antiquaries have so far failed to answer in any way that is final 
and conclusive. Thomas Churchyard has an explanation which is as good as any 
that has since been offered. He says — 

" Thore is famous thing 

Cardo Offa's Dyke, tliat reaoheth far in length; 

All kind of ware tlic Danes might tliither bring ; 

It was free ground, and cal'de the Eritaine's strength ; 


invuh's OF a HEAT buitatx. 

[The De2. 

Wat's Dyke likewise aVwiit the same was set 
Uetweeu wliicli two both Danes and Britaines met, 
And trafficke still." 

At these Dykes, too, it would ajjpear, tlie exchange of prisoners was "enerally 

r^ -:#-. 

IKE KOOUEE, CHESTEit {p. 239). 

effected. In their oii^^in. im dnnlit. ihcy were defensive woiks. ns well as lines of 

After its junction with tlie Ceiiio<r, the 1 )ee divides 1 »enbi^hsliire and Shropshire 
for some two or tln-ee nnles. Soon afterwards it ajjiain l)ecom(>s wliolK- Welsh for 
a brief wliile, and forms the Ijounthny between Denbighshire and Flint. Tliis is 
after we liave pa.ssed Kuabon, and the -rreat "Welsh coaltield. Dere is Overton 
('hurdiyard, one of ".seven vvonders of ^\■ales■' whose title to fame is so often 
inexplicable. At this place there is less to wonder at in the eiiuiih\ aid itself than 
in the view (»f the !)<•(■ which is presented therefrom. Inr heic ii wimis, with man\- 
curve.s, through a ])lea.sant valley, intersjierseil with liioad. Hal L;reen spaces, woods, 
and low, roinided hills. Hangor-on-l^ee, the chief sj)awiiiiig ground for salmon, is near 
at hand; and, then, before long, the great tower of A\'rexham Clmrcli comes in sight, 
much more of a wonder than either Overton Clnuchyard or Llanizollen Hridge. 



The river Alyn joins the Dee below ^Yrexhanl. It has come through much 
lovely country, of one jiortion of which, near Slold, Pennant says : — " I hang long 
over the charming vale which opens here. Cambria here lays aside her majestic air, 
and condescends to assume a gentler form, in order to render her less violent in 
approaching union with her English neighboiu'." The Alyn runs underground for 
al)out half a mile after it has passed the old fortress of Caergwele. Indeed, as 
Drayton says, with all due exactness, "twice underground her crystal head doth 
run.'' Our first great landscape painter, Richard Wilson, was buried at Mold, and it 
was in the vale of the Alyn that fortune at last came to him, for here, on a small 
estate which had been bequeathed to him, he came upon a vein of lead, and was 
henceforth able to live in reasonable affluence. 

" And following Dee, which Britons long ygone 
Did call ' divine,' that dotli to Chester tend " — 

SO remarks Edmund Spenser. First, however, we pass Eaton Hall and its splendid 
grounds. Sir John Vanbrugh built a great mansion on the site, which was pulled 
down when Gothic architecture again came into fashion. Its successor was, in spite 
of great cost and elaboration, an architectural failure, and it has now given place to 
Mr. Waterhouse's greatest and most colossal achievement in domestic architecture. 
This magnificent seat of the Duke of \yestminster is situated in a very extensive 
park, in which there is one avenue two miles in length, bordered on each side 
by forest trees. The style of architectm-e adopted by ilr. Waterhouse is that 
which prevailed in France in the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries. " There is not 
a house in England,'' it has been said, "that has been built on a more perfect 


ari'angement." The Dec flows round the outskirts of the park to the beautiful 
village of Eccleston, where the grounds, sloping down to the river, are very 


beautifully ornamented Avith trees. Henceforward to Chester the stream is lik(> a 
broad reach of the Thames, calm, massive, with leafy banks, a truh" inii)ressive 
introduction to one of the most famous of English cities. 

( 'liester is remarkable alike for its present and its past. It shares witli York 
the distinction of having" kept its ancient walls unimj^aired ; and tlie walls of 
Chester, of a rich red sandstone, are much finer, both in colour and in form, than 
those of the northern city. The definite history of the place goes back at least as 
far as Agricola, Avho was at Chester in the year 60 a.d. as an officer in the army 
of Suetonius Paulinus. Then it was, probably, that the Komans first established 
a camp on the banks of the Dee. Chester seems to have been the heachpiarters of 
the Twentieth Legion, which, soon after the deatli of Augustus, was stationed at 
Cologne, on the Khine, from the reign of Claudius to the departure of the Romans 
from liritain. The memorials of this occupation are not now very numei'ous, but are 
of the highest value in determining what kind of city Chester was when it was 
ocfui)ied by a legion so distinguished that it was generally placed in posts of 
diificulty and great honour. Prol)ab]y the most perfect hypocaust in England is that 
which is to be seen in tlie grounds attached to the ^\'ater Tower at Chester. 
Ignorant men who offer tluniis(>lv('s as guides still speak of tlie wall as Ronuui 
work, and one may find for tluMn this excuse, at least — that the existing walls, 
with but one deviation, follow the line of the IJonuui fortifications, jiart of 
which can be .seen near the canal, not very far from the point at which it 
communicates with the Dee. The Road-Book of Antonine has this entr\ : '' DEVA. 

.\mong the pictures which most inipi'cssed the ])resent writer's Ixixliood was 
an illustration of Edgar the Peacefid lieiiig rowed down the Dee b\- eight trihutarv 
princes. The incident is not legendary, l)ut historic. One might linger for 
almost any length of time in this uniipie city, recalling the menmrable facts of 
its liistorv, were not the Dee .still tempting us along. It is a citv surrouiuled 
by beautiful country, and is full of a quaint charm, with rare architectural features. 
The famous "Rows" — long covered galleries aljove tlu^ liaseineiits of tlie houses 
and sho]»s, originally intended for pui'iioses of hasty defence — probalilv reHect the 
infiuence of Rome on the city long after the departure of the legions. This was 
the surmise of Stiikelev, who wrote, " The K'ows, or piazzas, of Chester are singular 
through the whole town, giving shelter to the foot people. I fancied it a remains of 
the old Roman ]»ortico." Nowhere els(> in these islands are the ancient, half- 
tiudjered, like the "God's I'roviileiice House'' wlii<Ii has liecome so famous, in 
such satisfactory preservation, and tluy have given a chaiacter even to the modern 
architecture of Chester, which, in many .striking instances, is oiilv a reproduction mi 
a larger scale of the prevailing style of the jjast. 

Chester has two cathedrals, and a remarkalile ecclesiastical histoiw The city 
walls, roMinl which the i-iver sweeps in laoad, bold curves, an^ chiefly of the 
I'ldwai'dian period. J*'rom out/ of thi' towers, which is now much what it was during 

The Dee.] 



tlip Civil ^Yars, riiarlos I. watched tlie defeat of liis army on Rowton Heath. 
Chester was shortly' afterwards surrendered, and thus was finally lost the cause of 
the king in the north-west. Following the walls to the opposite side of the city, we 
find that pleasant pictures are nuide Ijy two of the Dee bridges — the modern Sus- 
pension Bridge for foot-passengers, erected where the river is of great breadth, and 

Photo: Frith £ Co., Eetgate. 


the old Dee Bridge, just under tlie walls, with a huge Hour-mill beside it, and a 
little colony of salmon-fishers on the other side, not far away. Passing the Roodee, 
a great level space by the river, on which the races are held and other popular 
festivities take place, we arrive at the great ii'on arch of the Grosvenor Bridge, 
which is as noticeable on account of its design as because of the breadth of its 
single span. 

For eight miles henceforward the river flows through an artificial channel, made 
for purposes of navigation, and with the consequence of reclaiming some five thou- 
sand acres of land. The swing railway bridge, opened by Mrs. Grladstone in 
18S9, the first cylinder being placed in position by Mr. Gladstone two years 
earlier, is the next object of interest. Not far away is Hawarden Park, " not 
exceeded in beauty by any demesne in the world," says Dean Howson. After 
these eight miles of artificial waterway have been traversed, the Dee suddenly 
broadens out into a wonderful estuary, which, according to the state of the tide, 
separates England from ^Yales by wide stretches of water, or by still wider stretches 
of sand. We pass the Castle of Flint on our way downwards, with one huge 
round tower dipping its base into the Dee. The town which it once defended is 
known in these days for its chemical works; but it has seen stirring times. It was 
here that Richard 11. was held prisoner, within "the rude ribs of that ancient 



[The Pr.E. 

castle," as Shakespeare says, and here, also, it was that Ikilinghrokc hecamo Kiiii; 
of Enfrland. The Castle of I^Iostjni, not far from whore the shore of the river 
becomes the coast of the sea, was also mixed mi in these transactions. Nearly 
midway between these two frairments nf media> are Basinirwerk Abbey and the 
Fountain of Holywell, which is even to this da}- credited with the Avorking of 

The estuarv of the Dee has its Lindisfarne ; for, as an old writer on Hillbree 


Island, Avith the square tower of its church risinir above a wooded knoll, has remarked, 
" It is an island but twice a day, embriiced l)y Neptune only at tlu^ full tydes. and twii-e 
a day shakes hands \\\{h iii-cat Britain."' Tlie sands stretcli away in ahnost illimit- 
al»le exi)anse, the Wirral Promontory nuiking a distant, faint, and ii regular lioundary 
between the Dee and the Mersey. Kingsley's account of one nf ('njiliy Ficldings 
sketches nf the Dee estuarv says almost all that is possible in tlic way of d<>scrip- 
ti,,„:— "A wild wa.ste of tidal sands, with here and thero a line i>i' stake-nets ibittcM-- 
in^-- in the wind— a ;rrav shrdini nt rain swrcpint: up finm the westward. tliroiiLili 
which low red clilfs ^ dindy in the rays of tlie setting sun — a train of horses 
and cattle sidasliing slowly throiigli shallow. des(date pools and cri'(d<s. their wet i-ed 
and bhu-k hi(h-s glittering in <inc long line of level light." it was the simple, dreary 
grandeur of the picture, condiined with the relation of a tragic story, which inspired 

The Dee] 



one of tlie most pathetic ballads in the langTiap-e— that lono-, pieicino- wail, " The Sands 
of Dee " : — 

" ' O Maiy, go and call the cattle liome, 
And call the cattle home, 
And call the cattle home 

Acioss the sands of Dee.' 
The western wind was wild and dank with foam, 

And all alone went she. 

"The western tide crept up along the sand. 
And o'er and o'er the sand, 
And round and round the siind, 

As far as eye could see. 
The blinding mist came down and hid the land : 

And never home came she. 

'■' ^ * «■ « 

"They rowed her in across the rolling foam. 
The cruel crawling foam, 
The cruel hungry foam, 

To her grave beside the sea : 
But still the boatmen hear her call the cattle home 

Across the sands of Dee." 

Aaron Watson. 


TIIL 51i;il>KV .ir MUCKl-OKT ^Ji 24 1). 


A M<^K'ni Kiv.T— neri»aliiins— Thf Tamo, the Goyt, and the Ethoron-— Stockixirt— Xnrthfndi-n— The Iiwdl ami its 
Kifli-rs— Manthester and Salford— 'ITic .Ship C'aniil— Bridges over the IrncU— Urdsall— EciK-s— Uartun — Warbiirton — 
Irlain — Warringtun — Latchfiird — liiincum and AVidnes — The Weaver — Eiistham Ixicks — Liverjiool and its Growth- 
It- l>...k-! an.l «iuays— Birkenhead and its Shiphailding Yards— Xew Briirhton- Perch Ro k Lighthoufu. 

KIkSKY niav 1)0 de-scrilu'd as the most modern of our rivers. Tlicro 
\v;js a time, in fact — and that not measured l)v <reolo.t;iral ((niii)!!- 
tatitdi — when, .^n far as knowlcdiie nf it went, tlie Mersev ciuild 
hardl\' be said to l)e in existence. l",\'en tlic iinat cstuaix" wliert^ 
•I world'.s ari.''osies now assendde esca]icd the attention i>i' tlie Kmnans, 
and we come down to the l»eirinnin>r of the eleventli centmv lu'fore 
wo fiml the ^Fersey named in anv record. It is mentioned for the iirst time in a 
deed of the rei;rn of iMheh-ed, and there it liLinres less as a river than as a liouiidiuy 
mark enncemin^'^ a -.'rant of .soine lands '• lietween Ahier.sae aii<l liiMxl." It has 
been said also of tin- .Mersev that it \nA its name from the fact lliai it toniied tlie 
northern limit of the kin^rdom of Menia. .\noilier derivation, and not an altoiicther 
unlikely one. when considered aloii'j" with tlie chief seat on its liaiiks and t!i(> open 

"he Mersky] 



cliaiinel beyond, is that in "Movsey" we liave the Celtic Wdi'd " Marusia," signifying 
quiet or sluggish water. A more curious derivation, and one lending itself to the 
belief that in the early history of our country the character and identity of the 
Mersey were very difPerent from what they are to-day, is tliat the word is from 
the Anglo-Saxon "Meres-ig," or "Sea-Island.'' It is known tliat what is now the Wirral 
Peninsula, forming the western boundary of the estuar\- of tlie Mersey, was at 
one time cut off from the mainland by tlie sea. It is known also that the Dee 
flowed over into the ]\Iersey; and as the two rivers must then have appeared as one, 
witli a common moutli, it is easily seen how in tlie long ago the Merse}' would escape 
recognition altogether. 

But the river that Avas to minister to the greatness of Lancashire, and through 
Lancashire to aid so materially in the development of industrial Britain, was, of 
course, no sudden creation. It may have been for ages nothing but quiet or 
dead water, but Xatui'e in her slow and sure Avay was all the while working in its 
favour. For centuries, vessels, as they sailed up and down the west coast, passed 
by the Mersey, and found their way instead up the Dee to Chester, or up the Kibble 
to Preston, and occasionally up the Lune to Lancaster. But, even as thev did so, 
these streams were gradually becoming less navigable. A strong tidal flow raised 
sand barriers at their entrances, and for some considerable distance upwards, that 
meant danger to .shijiping. The same " cause gave the Mersey its opportunity and 
its individuality ; and once the bar at its mouth was crossed, there were found 
not only capacious and safe anchorage, but j^ossibilities for commercial enterprise 
that have gone on increasing from the moment at which men began to take advantage 
of them. 

The ]\Iersey has its origin in three other streams that come down to it fram 
Yorkshire and Derbyshire uplands ; and when it becomes for the flrst time entitled 
to the name, it is among huge factories, and not by willow-covered banks. The 
three streams in question are the Tame, the Goyt, and the Etherow. Starting from 
the Peak district, and run- 
ning between Derbj'shire and 
Cheshire, the Goyt strikes a 
northerly course, and for a 
considerable distance forms 
the boundary line between the 
two counties. Near to the 
village of Mellor it receives 
the Etherow, wliich has come 
down from the Ijreezy region 
known as the backbone of 
England, almost at the meet- 
ing-jjoint between Yoi-kslnre, 
DerbAshire, and Cheshire. 

Kns-lhh Mil,'! 



I! I \ Kits OF an RAT niilTAIX. 

TThe Meksey. 


Like the Govt, the Etherow serves as a liniiiuLny line hetweiMi Derlnshire and 
Cheshire. It runs through Longdeiidah'. wheic is mic ol tliose artitieial hike districts 
whieh come by way of conipeiisation to the cuimtry IVdiii the town; for here, on 
the shipes of Ulackstone-edge, ai-e tlie reservoirs which until recently wei-e thought 
sufHcient fur the wati'r-supply of Manchester and district. Four in nuinher, they 
mean a dailv supply of 25,000,000 gallons; l)ut that is not enough for the steadily 
increasing population of the great city and its environs, and Manchester has there- 
fore gone naicli furtlier afield, and tapped 'riiirhnerc, so as to secuic an additional 
.supjdv of o(»,(IO(»,0((0 gallons. From here the Ftlierow rinis nieirily down to where 
the CJovt conies northwards to nu'ct it. The cnniliined stream, now of ^onnnvhat 
doubtful identitv, goes westward to Stockjidrl. and receives tjicrc the 'rnnic ironi 
bevond Saddlewoith. on the ^Orkshire borders. 

The .Mersev now takes name and form. Starting at Stockport, it lias an 
industrial bejiinning at a point that nnisl formerly have be(Mi possessed of no 
suuill picturi'scpieness. Ihiilt on the slopes of a gorge, Siockpoil is in these day.s 
a town c(f l)rid<res. 'l"hroiii:h it runs the London and Nmili W'olcrn railway on 
a viaduct risinjr to a heij,dit of I I 1 IVet, supjxirted on .sonii' twenty arches, 
and .stretcliin^'- from (KKt to 7'"i fret. b'ailway lines centre here from all points 
of the ••ompa.xs; and in the jia-t, as to-dax', Stockport wa^ rei^aniid as a kiy 
f<i the situation north and soutli. 'I'iie K'omans reco^inised its im|(ortance. The 
Normans were etpialiv alive to its strategic value, and built a stron;:hold iieie, v.liere 

The JIersey.] 



the Earls of Chester long held eniirt. The castle at Stockport was demolished during 
the Cml Wars by order of the Parliament, bnt not until it had been taken by 
Prince Rupert, and by General Leslie after him. It was from Stockport also that 
Prince Charlie passed during- the Stuart rising in 1745. The name of the town 
gives a clue to its history. Here was a great fort where stores were kept. It is 
not sur^M'ising, therefore, to find that the present spelling of the name is com- 
parativelv modern. In old davs it appears plainh' as Storefort and Stokefort. The 
place has never lost its reputation as a source of supply, although what it fields 
now is })roduced within its own boundaries. It is an iinjjortant textile centre, and 
the seat of the felt hat trade ; and from it also much good work is sent out in iron 
and brass. It has alwavs been an active town politically, and a statue of Richard 
Cobden in the market-place shows the delight tlie inhabitants take in recollecting 
that for .six rears thov had the great Free Trader as one of their two representatives 
in Parliament. 

From Stockport the Mersey serves as the boundary line between tlie counties 
of Chester and Lancashire. At North enden, where its sm'roundings are rural and 
pleasmg, it takes a sudden turn to- tlie north, and after several twists runs decidedly 
and sharply to the north-west, till it gets to Stretford. Here it is in touch with 
the southern suburlis of ^Manchester, and is at its nearest point to that city. For 
its natural junction with the stream which leads to ^lanchester, we must, however, 
follow the river over what is now a tortuous westerly course, past Flickstone to 
Irlam. At this point, some nine miles from Manchester, the Irwell and the Mersey 


246 h'IVi:iiS OF GREAT nUITAIX. [Thk Ikwell. 

used to meet in confluence. Tlioy do so still. l)iit inider dtlier tliaii tiic old coiidi- 
tion.s. In tlie course of last century ^lanchcstcr foiunl it advisable to moot the 
demands of its increasing trade by making the Irwell, and next the up])or parts 
of tlie Mersey, navigable for small vessels ; and in the closing years of the nineteenth 
century she ha.s caught up the waters of her own considerable tributary, and thos(> 
of the main stream, in a series of capacious locks along that great Avater-Ava\ wbich 
has now made what Mr. Gladstone has called "• {]\(' cDnuucrcial metiupdlis of 
England "" a great iidand seaport. 

Tlie Irwell is fed by more rivers than any other of ]\Iersev's tributaries of the 
same length, and all along its course it .serves manufacturing purposes, as the aji])ear- 
ance of its waters betokens only too clearly. Rising in the neighbourhood of Burnle^^ 
it through Rosenst;dl, Tottington, Bury, and Eadcliffe. At the lastnu'iitioiied 
place it receives the liocli. and then goes westward to Farnwortli, wliere it is joined 
by the Tong. Taking next a south-easterly direction, it })asses tludugli I'resfwicli, 
and after a bend to the north of Pendleton it runs into jManchester. At Manchester 
the Irwell is fed by three other streams darker even than itself, these being the 
Medlock. the Irk. and the < 'ornbrook. 'Vhv Ti-\vell divides ^Manchester from Salford. 
but it is only by the black Ijoundary line thus afforded that it is possilile to tell 
where the one l)orough ends and the other begins. Each is distinct .so far as civic 
and Parliamentary affair.s are concerned; but in all that concerns ilieir niateiial 
well-being, they are one. Both are mentioned in tlie Doniesdav Txiok. and tlieri' 
are of them back to tlie llonuin occupation. 

There were signs of industrial activity in Manchester in the tliirteenth century, 
when a fulling mill is nu'Utioned as having been in o])eration on the rivei'side, and 
when the dveing of yarns and cloth was also ju-actised on the banks of the irwell. 
or its tributaries. Leland, coming here in Henry VUI.'s time, found Manchestt'r 
"the fairest, l)est builded,, and most populous towne of all Lancestreshire."' 
Camden, in liis pilgrimage in the ii-ign of Elizabeth, also paid Manchester a ])retty 
compliment, .seeing that he described it as "sur])assing neighbouring towns in 
elegance and" Dr. Stukeley, wi'iting in the iiist lialf of tlie ciuliteenth 
century, refers to ^lanchester as the "largest, most rich, populous, and Ijhsn village 
in England.'' The term ''village" seems strangely out of place a]iplied to what is 
now so great a Cfinnnunilv ; l»ut it is significant as sliowini:- how enormously 
Manchester has grown since then Dr. Stukeley speaks of there being about two 
thousand families in the ])l;ice, " and their trade, which is incicdiblv larg(\ consists 
of fustians, tickings, girthwebs, and tajies. which are dispensed all over llie kingdom. 
and (o foreign jiarts." The ])opulation of Manclicslci- to-day is |)idbabl\ not far 
short of (UKf, 0(1(1, and thai o| Sall'oid (which lor I 'arliamentar\ and municipal 
j)urposes inr-hides i'endleton) is abrtut L'OO.ddO. Both towns condiined did not 
('(Mitain more than lj(l,(l(l(l inhabitants at the beginniui:- o| the present c(iilui\. 
It ic e.Hliniafed that some 7<i(t dilferenl indusliies aie now carried on witliln tlicir 
InMiIcrs. The explanation of this extraordiiiarx development is lo be louiid in an 


observation made by one of the topographers of last centurv reg-ardino- Manchester 
— nanieh', "that the inhabitants are not only thrifty and inventive, but very 
industrious and saving'." 

It is this " striving and inventing something new" — this disposition to go 
forward, and make the most of their circumstances and surroundings — that has made 
modern ilanchester. Arkwright with his sj^inning frame, and Hargreaves with his 
spinning jenny, were not at first made too welcome, masters and men in Manchester 
combining against these appliances. But the revolution effected l)y what Arkwright 
and Hargreaves had done elsewhere was too obvious to be ignored ; and when the 
inventions of these men were fairly introduced into the seat of the cotton trade, 
followed as they were by Conipton's "mule,"' the way was ojjcncd up in Manchester 
for greater developments. It was not enough, however, to improve the qualit^- of 
goods and augment the output : it became necessary to increase the facilities for 
the introduction of the raw nuitcrial, and for tlie prom])t removal and distribution 
of the finished article. Much was done in tliis direction. In* the ready support 
Manchester gave from tlie first to the canal system. Tlic town got into touch 
with the navigalile waters of the Mersey by opening a waterway of its own from 
Longford Bridge to Runcorn in 1767. Other canals brought it into touch with the 
north, tlie south, and the east of England. This was an immense gain over the 
waggon and pack-horse arrangements that had previously jorevailed, and the trade 
of Manchester grew apace, developing- eventually more quickly than there were 
means for dealing with it. The introduction of the factory system, and the 
replacing of the old hand-looms b}- looms having steam as the motive jiower. 
forced Manchester to con.sider whether some still speedier method of transit could 
not be obtained. Fortunately, with the hour came the man, and with the man 
came also the agency that was wanted. George Stephenson and his "Rocket" 
appeared upon the scene. Lines of rails were laid westward, not Avithout innnense 
difliculty, over Chat Moss to Liverpool; and from 1830 it became possible to 
have communication between ]\Ianchester and Liverpool in almost as manj- minutes 
as it had formerly taken hours. 

With the aid of the locomotive, and all that is meant by this mode of transit, 
the trade of Manchester continued to expand, progressing to such an extent that 
during recent years it became necessary to consider whether Liverpool itself, although 
but an hour distant by rail, was not too far away for IManchester merchants, 
^lanchestcr could not go to the sea, but the sea could be brouglit to Manchester ; 
and again with the hour the man appeared. In Ajwil, 1877, the suggestion came 
from Mr. Hamilton H. Fulton to establish tidal navigation between Manchester and 
the Mei'sey. Beyond an indication of what could be done, nothing came of the pro- 
posal, but JManchester j^eople will not forget that Mr. Fulton first mooted the sclienie 
that was eventually taken up on the strength of designs submitted l)y ^Ir. E. Leader 
Williams. A start was given to the movement at a meeting held in June, 188'2, 
at the residence of Mr. l)aniel Adamson, of Didsbuiy. On November lltli, 1887, 



[Tut 5Ifrsev. 

the first sod in the ninkino- of the canal was cut by the Chairman of the ronipany 
(Lord Kjrerton of Tatton) at Easthani. In seven years from that thuo the canal 

rF.NDI.ETON, rilOM THE CRESCENT (p. 246). 

was completed, it Ijcinji- opened for tlirou<:h traffic on New Year's Day, 1.^04. The 
formal openinji' l)y the Queen took place on the 21st of May in the same ycnir. 
At the time of the opening for traffic, the canal, includin,a: sums paid in rompoiisa- 
tion for vested interests, had cost £1 l,7o(),00(». 

The Ship ("anal beinfj a continuation of tlie Mersey, and tlie two blendiui:- in 
some places and in others running' in close proximity, some of tlie engineerina' and 
other features of this the greatest of our English artificial waterways will b(^ 
referred to as the fui-ther course of the ]\Iersey is sketched. But as the caiuil has 
its lieadcpiarters in ^Vlandicstcr, it mav be mentioned here that its tot;d leniifli from 
Eastham. where it runs into tlie estuary of tlic Mersey, to l*onioii;i Docks at 
Manchester is '.i'll miles, llial its average water width at tlie level is 17"J feet, ami 
that its width at the bottom is Ijn bet. (■\cei)t between Harton and Manchester, 
where the liottom width is as much as 170 feet, with '2-U) feet stretch at the l(>vel. 
A< tlw minimum depth of the canal is 25 feet, it has, therefore, acconimnilatimi 
for the largest ves.sels ; and as it is lit uj) with th(> electric light along its course, 
it is navigable bv night as wi'll as l)v dav. The canal is in four sti'ctches, divided 
liv live sets of locks, that evcntualK' raise its waters to a height of (idl leet above 
the sea. Thei'c is a range of docks lioth on the .Maiicliestei- and on tlic Sall'oid 
si(h; of the ti-rminus <if the canal, with a great open slrctih of watci- for the nioxc- 
ment of vessels. Merc (iiiiires give but a poor idi'a of the extent and character of 
the canal, lait thr're ate ceitain features which ajjpeal strikingly to the least 
imaginatixc mind. Thus, in re;:aril to the eNca\ations, we lia\r the startling state- 
uieiil tiial the (|uantit\- of earth removed to secure a chainiel bir llie canal could 
liave made a wall round the globe (i feet high and 2 feet thick, and that enough 

250 nirnns or ohkat nnnjix. 

[TUE luWELl.. 

brii-ks were used to make a lauseway tt feet Avide from one end of tlie kin.iidoni to 
the other. Another point we have to remember is that but for improved maeliineiv 
and the use of steam and of powerful explosives, tlie eonstruetion of the Maneliester 
.Ship Canal in all its parts, instead of being accomplislu-il in seven vears. ((.uld 
hardly have been linished in half a centurv. 

There are political as Avell as industrial featuri>s that cannot l)e overlooked In 
any reference to the great seat of the cotton trade. A statue of Cromwell in \'ictoria 
Street, .staiuling on a rugged block of granite, uiay l)e taken as a memorial of tlie 
sti-ong stand Manchester made for the Parliament in tlie Civil Wars of the seven- 
teenth century. It Avas in ]\Ianchester that the tirst lilow in tliat struggle is said 
to have been struck. Cm-iou.'<ly enough, however, Mamlustci. in a moment of 
impulse, declared for the Stuarts in the rising a century later. Its inhabitants not 
<»idy welcomed Prince Charlie in his march to the South, but went so far as to 
proclaim him king. They changed tlieir niinds. liowever, almost as (piickh' as thi>\- 
had nuule them up ; and the Prince and his adherents received but scant courtcsv 
from the Manchester folk some two weeks later while retreating nortln\ard. 
Agitation for Parliamentary reform ran to fever lieat in ^lanchester almost from 
the inceptiiin of that niovenuMit, and had one hunentable incident — a charge l»v 
yeonumry at a nuiss meeting in St. Peter's Field in 181!), when several jhtsous 
weri' killed. WiiiU' dejiloraljle in it.self, this event, which has ])asse(l into liistor\- 
as the ** Peterloo nuissacre," was not without potent influence in bringing in 
that l)etter era for whicli tlie people <if ]\lancliester. in conuiion witli the inhabit- 
ants of other large towns, were clamouring. Where that memcualile mass meeting- 
took place now stands the Free Trade Hall — a suggestive reminder of the fact that 
in Manche.stiT the Corn Law League, with ^Ir. Cobden, Mr. Ibiglit. and .Mr. .Milncr 
(Jib.son as leading spirits, had its lu-adcpuirters. In lS'-i'2 lyiancliester obtained the 
nVht to .send two mendjcrs to ]*arliament, Salford getting one member. Wv the 
Pefoiin Hill of 1S(')7 both boroughs got an additional representative: and when, in 
iHS't, the great towns were cut up into divisions, ^Manchester had its Parliauuntarv 
strength increa.sed to si.\ nicmliers, and Salfind to three. 

Long as it had to wait for Parliamentary nvognition, it was still later before 
Manchester .secured the municii)al powers to which bv its antiipiity, its growtli, and its 
business importance it was i-ntitled. Its charter of incorporation as a liorougli was 
not obtained until \H:iS. Nine years later (bS47) it was made a citv. in tlie episcopal, its colh-giate churcli — "the <tne Paroch Church"' Leiand speaks of in his 
"Itinerary" — ranking as the cathedral. It was six years later still ( bS.V'J ) before the 
civic charter was obtained confirming what liad lieen done ecdesiasticallv. In iMt.'i 
another titular diirnity came to .Manchester, its cliiel' magistrate beini:' then created 
Lord .Mayor. The cathedral, regarded as a parish church, dates from Itjj, when it 
was founded by Thomas de la Warrc. who was doubly ipuililied foi- the work lie 
undertook, being not only lonl of the manor but rector of the pari>li. lie 
founded u church, it is .said, "as well bo- the irreater honour of the place as ilie 

The Ieveli..] 



lii'tter edification of t\\c pcnplc " — lirnce its collciiiutt' fliaractei'. IMuoli has been 
(lone, with marked success, to improve the app(>arance of the building- since its eleva- 
tion to the dignity of a cathedral, and, architecturally and otherwise, it is well 
(>ntitled to the rank it now liolds. Close to it is ('hetham College, the original 
residence of tlie Warden and PVdlows of the old collegiate body. Humphrey 
( "hetham, the founder of this institution, was a dealer in fustians in Manchester early 
in the seventeenth century. Before his death he saw to the education and mainten- 
ance of a immbcr of poor boys of the town and neighbourhood, and by his will 
lie left money to continue and e.\])and the good work he had liegun. 

A still earlier trust is the Grannnar School, which goes back to lolo, Avlieu it 
had as its founder Hugh Oldham, Bishop of Exeter. The school drew revenues 
from the mills on th(> frk in the days when that stream ran in limpid purity into 
the Jrwell. It has a higli reputation for scholarshiji. Educationally Manchester owes 
much also to a citizen of the present century — John Owens, who died in 1846, 
having left £100,000, to which an equal sum was added for the foundation of the 
college that bears his name. Manchester has thus been generously helped in the 
matter both of elementar}- and of secondary education. And she has had the further 
satisfaction of mounting the next step in the ladder of learning, having obtained 
in 1880 a Royal Charter for the founding of Victoria University, of which Owens is 
one of the colleges, others being the Yorkshire College at Leeds and the University 
College at Liverpool. Chetham College possesses a finely selected library of ;-)0,(M)0 
volumes, housed in a picturesipie range of old buildings. And in this connec- 
tion it is interesting to note that Manchester was the first borough to take 
advantage of the Free Libraries Act. To-day she has free libraries and reading- 
rooms in ever)' part of the cit}- where 
they seem needed, in addition to a 
great central reference librar\- contain- 
ing about 200,000 vohmu's. Salfoi'd is 
ecpuiUy well equipped in this respect ; 
and in both places technical training 
has kept pace 
with other forms 
of instruction. 

With the ex- 
ceptions named, 
the principal 
i) u i 1 d i n gs of 
^Manchester are 
modern. The 
\'ictoria Ijuild- 
ings and Hotel, 

a pdiaiiai piiC, TIPTOKIA ANT) KLACKFUIAKS BRIDGES {p. 252). 

252 i;ni:i!s of gueat jhhtmx. [Ti.Ei.nvKu.. 

now i-<ivor what was one of tlie oldest i)arts of the ciry. Tlie Town Hall, completed in 
188."J, is a line Gotliie struetiu-e, occupyinii- a trian<:ular site. It is really a munifi])al 
palace — imposing externally, and admirably adapted internally for the conduct of 
the public affairs of a great city. The rise and progress of tlu^ citN has boon 
pictoriallv treated in the great chamber of the Towni Hall by Ford ]\la(lox Brown. 
A wide ojien space known as Albert Square fronts the Town Hall, with an Albert 
^lemorial in the centre, flanked by statues of John Bright and Bishop Fraser. Near 
liv, in St. Anne's S(puire, is a bronze .statue of Kichard ("obden. The Assize Courts 
in Strangeways are as noble architecturally as the Town Ilnll, and arc from designs 
by the same architect, Mr. Alfred Waterhouse; while the Itoyal Kxcliange, in Market 
Street, is a notable building in the Italian style, po.ssessing the largest meeting room 
of its kind in the United Kingdom, but a room not too large for the demands made 
upon its sjjace, as visitors who attempt to inspect it on Tuesdays and Fridays, the 
chief business days, will readily testify. Then there is the Royal Institution, fiom 
designs bv Sir Charles Barrv, in the Doric style, containing a gallery of 2)aintings 
and a School of De.-^ign, with a statue of Dr. Dalton, the propounder of the Atomic 
Thcnrv, and a Manchester w<irtliy. 

The Infirmary, built in the same style as the Exchange, dates fnnn tlie 
year 17oo. The esplanade in front of it, where are statues of the hiikc of 
Wellington, Sir Iiobert Peel, and Dr. Dalton, coveis the site of what was the 
"ducking pond'' in Manchester in the davs when the town troubled itself less about 
the sj)read of enlightenment than it does now. Like tlie Kxcliange, the Inlirmary 
exists for the benefit of other places than its own immediate neiglibourhood. Some 
;iO,(i()(i patients are treated annually within its walls. Its wards liear the names of 
various benefactors of the institution, and one of the wings was built through the 
beneficence of Jenny Lind, who gave two ccmcerts for the piniiose. The reference 
to Jenny Lind suggests the fact that Manchester during the present century has 
been distinguished as a musical centre. Nor has she been backward as a patron of 
artists ; her Art Treasures Exhibition of 1857 brought together th(> finest collection 
of ancient and modern paintings the provinces have known, 'i'lie needs of llie 
inhabitants, in the jihy.sical, have also during recent yi'ars lieen well attended 
to, as is shown by the ojjen .s))aces made even in neighbourhoods, and tlie 
j)arks and recreation grounds in the outskirts of lioth Manchester and Sall'ord. 
When the citizens feel disjwsed to travel far afield, they cannot in these days 
complain of lack t)f facilities. Having lirought the .sea to their own doors, (hey 
can go direct by bf)at to every jiart. ]?y rail they have choice of routes 
t«j all the leading towns of the kinirdoni. 

One may not Ite jiarticularK' jilea.seil with what one .sees of the Irwell as it 
passes through the city, but it cannot be regarded as a hiiulrance to free loeoiiiotion. 
It is liridged over in many places, .so much so that it is jiossilile to i^ct to mid from 
Salford along most of the chief thoroughfares of the larger town. 'I'he N'ictoria 
Bridge is modern, as its name iin]>lies. I'nilt two years after the accession of the 

254 niVrUS OF Gh'KAT 7.7,77' I/. V. [Thk Iuwell. 

Qucfii. it ri'j)l;i<T(l "lie I'rectt'J in 13()."». and wliirli. I'niui tliat poiiiMl up to 
170(1. was tlie only lnulii'e iMmncctinj:' Mancliester proper with Salt'nrtl. A wooden 
structure built, it is said, l»y a theatrical conijiany. to enahle them to pass 
between tlie two towns- preceded the present lilackfriars liridge, on the line of the 
street of that name. There are also the Albert, the IJeiient, the Urouiihton, and 
other bridges. .\t Hulme Hall Koad. where the Medlock passes into the main 
stream, the Irwell loses it.self in the ship-canal. Here, too, is the entrance to the 
Jfanchester .<eries of docks, which cover the site of the old Pomona (lardens. 'J'hev 
are in four arms. The water .><pace occupies ^S^- acres, and there is a ([ua\- area of 
2.'i acres, with two miles of quay length. On the o])posite side lies Ordsall, witli 
a rectangular dock 980 feet by 750 feet, and witli another feature of intei'est in tlie 
gi-eat calico ])rinting, dyeing, and bleaching works of the Messrs. Worral. From 
here the canal curves round and Hcavs mider a great swing bridg(% said to be 
the largest in the country (it is '2G"» feet long 1)y 150 feet wide), forming i)art. 
when closed, of the Trafford Koad. To the right are the Salford Docks, and here 
the water space covers 71 acres, with a quay area of \'29 acres, and 4 miles 
length of quayage. Just at tin- entiance to the Salford Docks the canal is at its 
widest — 1,.'}.S8 feet. 

A little further down is y\ni]v Wheel, whei'i' ai'e tlie locks that bciiiii tlii' process 
of di'scent, the fall at this jjoint being l-'J feet. Here the canal runs nearlv west, 
and continues in this direction till it reaches the out.skirts of Kcclcs, where it 
Ix'gins to run due west through a rock cutting that revealed in the cxj)o.sed gravel, 
as the work was in progress, the trend of llowing water in historic times. licvond 
are the JJarton swing aqueduct and locks. The aqueduct which I'rindley carried over 
the roadway here for the Ibudgewater ('anal was at the close of last centurv one 
of the wonders oi the Manchcsti'r district. It had to ])c (h'lnolished to give place 
to a .still greater wonder of the kind. Xot milv had a new aipieduct to lie con- 
structed to allow the ship-canal to pass underneath, but it had to be made in such 
a fiirm that it could swing. This was done by forming the bridge jjortion of the 
aciueduct into a caisson, or trough, .some 90 feet long bv 19 feet wide, and (1 fe(>t 
dcej», and weighing .some 1,400 tons. ( )rdinarilv, of, the watei- in the old canal 
is continuous, but when a ship is approaching on the larger canal, double sets of 
gates are do.sed at each end of the caisson, thus cunliiiing the water in the canal 
al)ovc and in the cais.son itself. 'J'he caisson is then swung round on a ceiitial 
pier, on each side of which vessels mav pass on the .>-hip-canal. I'.elow this 
engineering triunqth are the Hartoii locks on the ship-canal, giviiii:- a tall o| 
15 feet. lb-re the ni'W \vaterwa\' takes a south-westerlv turn, and continues 
thus till it gets to W'urburton. .\bout midwav between liartoii and the latter 
place, Irlam is reached, and here there are .several interesting features of the 
c.'imil to l»e seen, '1V» begin with, there is another series of locks, giving a descent 
this time of ICi feet, with a set of sluice gales in addition, which have b(>en 
constructed to carry off excess of w;iter in times of tlodd— :in e.Npedieiit rendered 

The Mfhset.] WAERIXGTON. 255 

necessary by the fact that just h('h)w Irlani the Mersey runs into the canal. Here 
also the Cheshire Kailwa}- lines cross the canal, and these had to be dealt with so 
as to give a clear waterway of 75 feet above water-level. 

About a mile below the weir at Irlam the canal widens out at the bottom to 
250 feet, to form the Partington coal-basin, thus allowing barges and other vessels 
to be moored at tlie side, leaving the regulation stretch of the canal for ordinary 
traffic. Elaborate arrangements are made here to deal with the shipment of coal 
from both the Lancashire and Yoi'kshire fields. Just below are the Cadis Head 
viaducts, carrying the Cheshire lines over the canal, a work tliat involved much 
labom- to secure the desired gradients and the 75 feet above water-level At 
AVarburton the roadway has been carried over a high level bridge, on the cantilever 
principle. The toAvn, which lies to the south of the canal, is oE some antiquity, and 
was the site of a Premonstratensian Priory. Some little distance down, the river 
Eollin, coming northwards from the neighbourhood of Macclesfield, falls into the 
canal on one side ; on the other, the Mersey is liberated, being now at the same 
level as the canal itself. Here the Mersey begins to assume its most tortuous course. 
It twists, bends, and d(nd.)l(\s upon itself in a perplexing way, affording a great 
contrast to the canal, which now runs straight as an arrow all the way to Euncorn. 
In the course of its meanderings the river comes down to the canal ao-ain at 
Thelwall Ferry, where it had to be deviated for a short distance and made into 
a straight line. At the end of the deviation it resumes its serpentine character, 
and here and there accommodation canals run through it to give short cuts. In 
another of its great l)ends the Mersey comes down to the canal again at the point 
where Warrington is brought into touch with the new waterway. 

Lying almost wholl>' to the north of the river, Warrington was anciently 
approached by the south, by way of Latchford, and this route still affords a 
principal means of access to the town, both by road and by rail. The Mersey 
touches no part possessing a more remote history. It has been claimed for 
Warrington that it is the oldest town in Lancashire. It was the Veritenum of the 
Romans, and it figures in Domesday as Wallingtun. Situated where there was 
ferryage over the j\Iersey, and where at one time the river itself seems on occasion 
to have been fordable, it practically was the key to Lancashire and Cheshire on the 
west. As may be supposed, there was clashing of arms frequently in its streets and 
on the road to the riverside. The Botelers were lords of the manor here from 
the thirteenth century, and they had, among other good things, right of toll on the 
ferry. The first bridge was the result of a king's visit, and is said to have been 
construi'ted by the first Earl of Dex-by for the better accomnu^dation of Henry VII. 
when that monarch was a guest at Lathom. With the construction of the bridge 
the need for the ferry disajjpeared, and so also did certain emoluments which fell 
to the lords of the manor, whereupon a feud arose between the l^otelers and the 
Stanleys that was not settled without bloodshed. The bridge had another effect: 
it caused large numbers of the population to change their quarters in order to be 



[The JIekset. 

nearer the stream, so tluit in the end the i)arisli clmrch was left where Leland 
fouiul it — *' at tlie tail oiul of the town." It is no longer there, of course, and no 
longer the onlv liuilding of its kind, inr Warrington has grown with Lancashire 

generally, and the old church 
has not been neglected. 
It has many line Gothic 
features, including a spire 
rising to 200 fcit. TiniVier 
houses, suggesting tlie days 
of the old ford, may be 
found in .some of the streets, 
but Warrington is by no 
nu'ans a place of the })ast. 
It is a very active, thriving 
connuunit v, n mnborin <;■ 


on, 0(10. iind doing nnich business in the staple traile of the counl\-. an<l also in 
irftn, Htccl, gla.'fs, leather, and soap. 

'i'licrc an- locks on ihc canal at l.,atcliford giving a fall of 1(1.^ feet, but as 
the water is now tidal the fall varies. The railwav line had to be cut through 

The Mersey.] 



liero 1)v the canal, l)ut in the meantime a new route was made for the iron 
liorse, including- a massive viaduct, in the piers of which some 12,000,000 bricks 
are said to have been used. Here, too, as elsewhere, arrangements had to be 
made for road traffic, and in this connection Latchford has been supplied with 
both a swing and a cantilever bridge. 

From Warrington the Mersey, still keeping a sinuous course, begins to expand. 


and when next it comes into touch with the ship-canal, which it does at a jjoint 
known as Kandall's Creek, it assumes estuarial form, and markedly so just before 
reaching Kuncorn. Then there is a sudden change, caused by the outswelling f»f 
both banks of the river, the result being that the Mersey is contracted to about 
1,200 feet across, after being more than twice that width. This contraction, known 
as Runcorn Grap, lies between Widnes Point on the Lancashire side, and Runcorn 
on the Cheshire side. At this, the nearest point to the upper estuary proper, the 
Mersey is crossed by a high level bridge, giving the London and North Western 
Railway access to Liverpool. Runcorn has been made by canals; three, approaching 
from diifcrent directions, touch the ]\Iersey there. The ship-canal lies to the north 
of the town, after passing through a cutting extending to a depth of 66 feet, the 
deepest on the route. Lying under the railway bridge, and coniing close to the 
river, it soon tinds itself Avholly in the bed of the Sfersey, separated from the stream 
by a massive concrete wall, for which in one place a foundation had to be made 
70 feet down. Tlvere were considerable docks and warehouses here before the 
greatest of the canals gave additional claim to Runcorn to be considered a seaport. 

258 RIVERS OF GREAT rtRrTAfX. [The Mersey. 

Etlielfroda. dauirhter of Alfred tlic Groat, is said to have founded the tt)wn ; and 
anticjuaries are pleased to repnd the name as a corruption of Kuncofan, from the 
Anglo-Saxon '* cofa." a cove or inlet. riie locks on the canal here are so constructed 
as to enable vessels to leave or enter at any state of the tide. Widnes, on the 
opposite side of the river, is a busy, thriving nianufacturinfi: town, with chemicals as 
its leading commercial product, hut doing a good deal also in various branches of 
the iron trade. 

From Runcorn the ship-canal forms the southern side of tlu' Mersev. The 
outer wall of protection follows the course of the river, bending with it round 
what nuiy be called the Kuucorn headland, and crossing the mouth of the river 
Weaver. The Weaver being navigal)le up to Northwich, the construction of the 
canal acro.><s its opening into the Mersey was a work of considerable ingenuity 
and ditKculty. In the first instance, provision had to be made l)y special locks 
to give entrance to the trilnitary before the point of junction with the Mersey 
could be interfered with ; and when the canal itself was carried over the tril)utarv, 
a series of great sluices had to be con.structed to regulate the How of the waters 
into the Mersey. Since then the Weaver has not been subjected to the incon- 
venience of low tide. Another result of the change has been the formation of a 
new town on its west bank, known as Salt})ort, witli wharves and other arrangements 
.specially adapted for the cai'goes of salt that come down the ^^'caver for shijiment 
elsewhere. In the case of a smaller stream further on, the Gowy, the water 
had to be carried under the canal by means of syphons strong enough and 
large enough to witli.stand tidal influences. From the (4owv the line of the canal 
follows the niu'thward sweep of the estuary, and continues thus past Ellesmerc 
Port, where is the outlet for the Shropshire Union .system of canals. It then 
pa.sses onward to what mav be called the grand entrance to this commercial 
undertaking, namely, the Kastham Locks. These locks are in sets of varying 
.sizes, according to the vessels that come and go, this arrangement being necessary 
to avoid waste of water from the canal. From P^astham the distance bv the 
Mersey to Liverpool is six miles, and to the lightship at the bur nineteen 

The Mersey is at its widest in the neighl)ourhood of Fllesnu're I'ort, tlii^ 
.stretch from here to l)ungeon Point, on the Lancashire .side, being altout 
three miles. Gradually narrowing in its progress to the sea, it is onlv some 
1,200 yards wide at the entrance. The pa.ssage outwards, Ijetwei'ii Liverpool 
and liirkenhead ilown to the bar, has been comparetl to a bottle-neck, and it 
is this feature of the .stream, added to the fact that, although a river of tlu* west, it turns round and takes a northerly direction, which gives it its com- 
mercial importance. TInough the narrow pa.s,sage, the tidal How is rapid enough 
to nuiintain an open cIkummI into the inlving estuary, .nid to dear a pa.s,sage for 
the largest vessels well out into tlie open sea. One .source of danger lies at the bar. 
iiere uand is upt to silt up; and if this were allowed to go <»n, the result would 

The Mersey] ORRUN OF LIVERPOOL. 259 

be tliat large vessels would have to wait on oitlier side for high water in order 
to get in or out. Tlie remedy has been found in extensive and frequent 
dredging, the effect of which is not only to make entrance to the river 
accessible at all states of the tide, but also to increase the inrush and the 
outrush of water, to the manifest improvement of the inner channels. The 
estuary has the further advantage of natural protection. The Wirral Peninsula, 
as a glance at the maj) will show, serves as a magnificent break-water, and the 
harbour has of course a great out-lying safeguard in the barrier Ireland presents 
between it and the Atlantic. 

It is where Mersey is at its widest and best — at the places whore it affords 
safe and capacious anchorage for the merchantmen of all nations — that its story 
begins to unfold itself ; and, as has been indicated, it is not an ancient recital, 
by any means. Elsewhere along its course are references to places and persons 
that take one back as far as the written history of this island can go, but in 
the neighbom-hood of Liverpool the references are all of them comparatively 
modern. Here there is trace neither of Roman nor of Norman. Yet if 
Liverpool and Birkenhead do not figure in the Domesday pages, they are by 
no means creations of yesterday, though, as we now find them, both are 
very much the outcome of nineicenth-centuiy enterprise. Liverpool got a charter 
as far back as the year 1173, and about a century and a half later the 
enterprising Prior of Birkenhead obtained a licence to build hospices for travellers, 
and secured at the same time the right of ferryage, of which the Monk's Ferry 
of to-day is an interesting reminiscence. 

It is in the early Liverpool charter that the name of the great city is 
first met with. It is there written Lyrpul, and the name has undergone such 
variations as Litherpool, Liderpool, Liferpool, and Lithepool, before finally passing 
into its existing form. No one has been able to say exactly what the name 
means. The latter 2)art, of course, causes no difficulty. The first part can be 
one of half a dozen different things, or may mean something else. Certain 
authorities favour the notion that in Liver we have the name of an aquatic 
bird of the cormorant family, that found choice food on the shores of the Pool. 
Others assert for the first part of the name that it comes from the liverwort 
plant, which grew abundantly in the neighbourhood. Other opinions are that the 
name really means "Ship Pool," or "the place at the pool," or "the gentle pool," 
but all that is guesswork. What is certain is that a cormorant or a pelican, 
or a liver (whatever sort of creature that may have been), has figured upon the 
borough seal since the time of King John, although advocates for another 
derivation have claimed that the figure u])on the seal was not meant for an 
aquatic bird, but for an eagle. The authorities of the town never adopted this view ; 
they have kept loyally to the bird that is said to have found peace and plenty 
on the banks of the stretch of still water around which Liverjjool sprang into 



[The Merset. 

llio pool (111 whose Imrders tlie city grew spread out over the site of the 
Custiini House aiul aJjoiiiiiiir buihlinjjfs. At some uncertain date after the Xorman 
occupation a castle was built Avliere now stands St. George's Church, and this 
sti'oiiffhold was held for many generations by the Molineux family, the descendants 
<pf William de Molines, one of the Conqueroi"'s lieutenants. In time another 

1. RINCORS IIKIDGE {p. 257). 2. THE LOCKS AT EASTHAM (;). 251 

Norman family, the Stanleys, found their way into r.ivcrpool, and got possession 
of " the Tower," a struc-ture which had been raiseil for the purpose of observation 
on what is now Water Street. The Stanleys strengthened and fortified "the 
Tower," building a mansion round it, and covering some four thousand square yards 
in the process ; so that ])ractically Liverpool had two castles, with two powerful 
families dominating the ])lac-c, and making life almost unbearable, for they were 
continually at feud as to their rights, though, curiously enough, lighting side by 
side for the king as the occasion arose. 

Neither of ca-stlc uor of tower is there any trace to be found in these 
dayo. While tluy existed they were the chief featines of Liverpool, but th(>y 

The Mersey.] 



had notliing in common with the circumstances that led to the development 
of the port, although their possessors had influence enough with successive 
sovereigns to obtain privileges for the place, and, indeed, they were far-seeing 
as well, and believed that the roadstead at their doors meant much for the 
future of England. King John himself came here, formed Toxteth Park, 
and £:ave the town a charter. Henr}^ II. made Liverpool a free port, while 


Henry III. constituted it a borough. A Parliament summoned at Westminster 
in the reign of Edward I. was attended by two burgesses from Liverpool; and 
from the time of Edward III. the town seems to have sent members to 
Parliament with commendable regularity, although there was but little for them 
to represent. Liverpool, however, had to be content with only two members 
down to the Reform Bill of 1867, long after she had made a name and 
reputation the world over. In 1867 the number was increased to three ; and 
when, in 188-5, the Redistribution Scheme caine into force, Liverpool was strong 
enough to secm-e nine members, and is the only constituency in England whose 
Irish voters are sufficiently numerous in any one division to return a member 
after their own heart, though, singular to say, the division which that member 
represents is known as the Scotland division. 

262 lilVERS OF GREAT TtnTTAryr. [Tm: Meksuy. 

Altlioufrli favoured, as avo liavo socii, in the reiun of Edward I., Liverpool 
was then of so litth- iniportanjee that she was onlv required to funiisli one 
barque and six sailors for the assistance of that nionarcli ; while Hull, on tlie 
east coast, liad to sup})ly sixteen ships and four hundred and sixty-six inciu and 
Bristol twentv-one shij)s and six hundred men. That the town nuide l)ut slow 
profj^ is shown also by the fact that while Charles I. assessed Bristol for 
£1,000 in ship-nionoy, and Chester at £100, the anmuiit claimed from Livcr])ool 
was onlv £'25. Liverpool does not seem to havi> hesitated to meet the demand, 
])rol)ablv because she <iwed a debt of gratitude to Charles, avIio raised the place 
in civic importance by constitutinii- the authorities a C()r})orate l)odv. Nevertheless, 
the burgesses favoured tlie Puritan rather than the Koyal cause when the crisis 
came; and jirobablv for this reason, although the !Molineuxs in their castle and 
the Stanleys in their tower stood for the King, the Parliament had no great 
dirticult\' in raising the siege of Liverjxinl and taking possession for the 
Connnon wealth. 

Prince Rupert had a sutiicicntly hard task when he tiicd to win the ])lace 
back. That dashing leader made liglit of the defences that bad been tlirown up; 
but the citizens kept him outside, fur all that, for full three weeks, beating liack 
his troops at every successive assault, and only surrendering after a combined 
attack bv night. The fiery Prince did not appreciate the bravery of the men 
of Liverpool, but smote them without mercy when the chance came, and did nuich 
damage to tlieir ju-ojx'rtv besides, llis triunii)h, however, was of the brii'fest. The 
battli' of ^larst<tn Moor, with its crowning victory foi- the Commonwealth, was 
fought six davs afterwards, and all that Prince liupert bad gained gradually ])assed 
into the hands of the Parliament, Liverpool included. tbout;b not without another 
.siege. The attitude of the citizens favoured them with the Protector. .\s com- 
pensation for the loss tliev had .sustained, the Corpoiation secured riyhts of 
fenyage over the Mer.sev, they were allowed £500 worth ol tind)er from the 
estates of the Ii(jyalists in the neighliourluiod, and they got a money allowance in 
addition of £]<i.(i(Mi. 

Camden in the reign of Elizabeth found Liverpool " not so eminent for being 
ancient as f(n- l)eing fieat and populous"; and the historian who sp(>aks of it in the 
closing years of the nineteenth century may fittingly describe the city in the same 
terms. But there is this difFerence between the two epochs — that while the inhabit- 
ants in Camden's time were housed in .seven .streets, they are now spread over a 
great area north and .south, and away to the, in .stieets almost too numerous 
to count. In 15()5 a census that was taken gave the ])opulation of Liverpool at 8'20. 
In 17<Mi the number had risen to 5,700. Fifty yeais later it was about '.'5.(1(10. \t 
the beginning of the ]>resent century it was 85,000. At the ])resent time, iiuluding 
I'irkenhead and the suburbs, it ju-obably exceeds 900,000. Its po.sition as a port, as 
has been shown, was insignificant in the shiji-monev (la\s ; it now bandies almut 
one-fifth of the tonnage of Ureat I'rifain. In isol vessels tradinti to and from 


Liverpool numbered 5,000, witli an aggregate tonnage of 459,710, providing dues 
to the extent of about £-J8,000. For the year ending June 30tli, 1896, 23,059 
vessels entered the port, representing a tonnage of 11,946,459. For the same period, 
the total revenue of the dock estate from all sources amounted to £4,014,000. The 
number of sailing vessels finding their way to the Mersey as compared with the 
Thames is as three to one, and to the Clyde as t\v(; to one. One-third more 
steamers enter the Thames, l)ut the greater number of large liners tluit come to 
Liverpool almost equalises the steam tonnage. 

It is not difficult to ascertain how this marvellous development of population 
and trade has taken place. The situation of Liveri)ool, with its practically open 
tliough well protected roadstead, has, of course, had nnich to do with the change. 
But this natural advantage has its drawbacks, and these were sufiiciently serious 
to have j^revented progress beyond a certain point had not there been puldic-spirited 
and large-minded men to direct the enterprise of the community. To attract 
navigation, the channels of the river had to be defined, and they had to be kept 
clear. They had to be buoyed and provided with beacons on both sides. Xotable 
among the guiding influences are the New Brighton Lighthouse (known also as the 
Perch I\ock Lighthouse) at the mouth of the river on the Cheshire side, and the 
Formby and numerous other liglits on the other side along the stretch of the Crosby 
channel until safe passage out to sea is secured. But something more was needed. 
The tidal rise and fall of the water-level meant a variation of some 30 feet at 
springtides, which made the loading and unloading of vessels difficult, and at 
times dangerous; besides, tlie vessels soon became too numerous for ordinary 
quay acconnnodation. It was necessary to provide special basins, and the first 
step in this direction was taken as far back as 1699, when the Pool was deepened 
and improved. 

This was but an insignificant beginning to what has now grown to such 
vast dimensions, but it solved a serious problem for the trade of Liverjjool of that 
day; and in about ten years afterwards the Pool was made into a dock some 
four acres in extent, giving accommodation for 100 small vessels, Liverpool securing 
its rcAvard in Parliamentary permission " to impose a duty for twenty-one years 
upon the tonnage of all ships trading to or from the ^loi't for making a wet dock." 
This earliest of the docks no longer exists ; liut others were soon afterwards 
constructed in its vicinity, tliough parallel with tlie river, and some of these are 
still in use. The exj^ansion of the dock s}'stem eventually necessitated the formation 
of a Dock Estate and the acquisition of property along the whole city front. The 
docks now stretch along the line of the Mersey for a distance of from six to seven 
ndles, and comprise some 25 miles oi quay space and 380 acres of water s])ace. 
In addition, there are nine miles of quav space and 164 acres of water space in 
the d(^ck acccnnmodation provided across the river at Birkenhead. This is irre- 
spective of graving dock arrangements. The area of the Dock Estate exceeds 
1,600 acres, inclusive of provision for extension. 



TThE irFltSET. 


The dock svstoin of Liverpool, as we now iind it, is verv larg-ely the v.'ork of 
the jjresent century, and it separates readily into two divisions. For about thirty-six 
years (from 182-1:) the docks were laid out upon plans prepared by Mr. Jesse 
Hartley, assisted by his son, 'Slv. Jolm 13. Hartley. Since then the woi-k has been 
conducted by Mr. G. F. Lyster, assisted by his son, Mr. A. G. Lyster. In the 
first instance the docks had to be constructed for sailina: vessels. The many additions 
that have since been made have been almost wholly for tlio accommodation of steam- 
shijjs. But whether we take the docks that were constructed dming the first half 
of the present century, or those that have been opened since then, the)- are engineer- 
ing ti-iumphs; and the world has no more wonderful sight of the kind than they, 
alike in their capacity, theii- admirable adaptation to tidal conditions and particular 
classes of goods, their warehouse and office arrangements, and the care that has 
been taken to provide ample quay and road space. The cost has been enormous, 
but it has been justified by tlie i-eturns. By means of its docks Liverpool is able 
to meet any demand upon its .sjiijjping jjowers. The vessels that are at times housed 
within its protecting river chambers, if ranged side by side, wcndd covei- the baidvs 
of tlie ^lersey along all its navigable length. 

It is, of cour-se, only a Jjaii, althougli the major pai't, of tlic toiniiii;-e of 
Liverpool that finds tivatnient in this \v:i\-. Tliri'c is a constanth- nioviiii;- flotilla. 
The good< and pa.ssenger ti-adic tVom one side of (lie Mcrscv to the other is scarcelv 
ever at a .standstill ; but while this trallic pa.sses to (U- from widely separated points 
ou the Wiiral Peninsula, it converges at Liverpool to that which is as much one of 

The JIeksey.] 



the .sights of tlio city as tlie clocks themselves — namely, tlie laiuling-stage. Tins is 
constructed on a series of enormous floating- pontoons, about midway between the 
northern and southern lines of the docks. Formerly there were two such structures, 
and nominally there are still two — St. George's and the Prince's ; but while they 
were for many years separated by a space of .j()0 feet to give access to the 
St. George's basin, they are now continuous, and their unbroken length makes a 
stretch of over 2,400 feet. The landing-stage, which is connected with the quay wall 
by a succession of girder bridges, adapted for both passengers and vehicles, is at 
any ^Jeriod of the day a scene of unusual activity and bustle ; but the official 
arrangements are admirable, and seldom is there any difficulty in dealing with the 
great crowds that gather and disperse here, either for lands across sea or on their 
way to inland towns. Here, if anywhere, the cosmopolitan character of the passenger 
traffic of Liverpool is seen in its fulness and variety. The landing-stage is, in 
fact, the temporary meeting-place of people of all nations, and belonging to all 
grades and conditions of life, from wretched stowaways to ambassadors with princely 

Although called a stage, this landing-place is really a magnificent pro- 
menade, with ranges of official buildings and waiting and refreshment rooms. Until 
recently the passengers by the deep-sea liners were taken to and from the steamers 



in tenders. Tliis aiTanpenieiit often gave rise to serious ineouvonience. and entailed 
also much loss of time. The latest addition to the stage was therefore contrived 
speeiallv with the object of overcoming these drawbacks. Passengers may now pass 
direct from the stage to the largest vesseLs ; and more than tliis lias l)een done for 
them. Thev are now brought close to the stage itself by railway, so tliat they may 
book themselves and their luggage from London or from any of our large towns to 
anv part of the w<irld, and have no more trouble on arriving on the banks of the 
Mersev than is usually involved in a change of conveyance. To facilitate passenger 
traffic to and frt)m the docks, an electric overhead railway running along the 
whole sti'etch of the six or seven miles comprising the city front, and into the 
districts bevond, has been in operation since February, 1893, when it was 
formally opened by Lord Salisbury. The line has since undergone extension, and 
it was carried as far as Dingle in December, 189G. It is now about eight miles 
long. The Dingle extension jiresents some notable engineering features. In one 
place it crosses the Dock Estate by girders 2'20 feet in length — an unusually 
large span ; in another it is run through a tunnel arch said to be the largest 
of its kind in tlie world ; while at Dingle the line belies its name, the terminal 
station being here considerably below the road level. The only dock entrance 
that runs iidand sufficiently far to be crossed by the overhead railway is the 
Stanley, and here a swing-bridge has been erected, on tlu' doulile-deck principle, 
so as to providi' for the railway traffic overhead and the usual cai-riage and foot 
traffic underneath. This railway may be considered a part of the great work of 
dock development at Liverj)oijl. A report laying out tlu^ scheme was presented 
])\ Mr. Lyster, the engineer to the Dock Board, in ISSo, lint for public and 
other reasons it was thought advisable to leave tlic work to private enterprise, 
and it was therefore undertaken by an incorporated company. Sir ^Yilliam 
Forwood being the chairman, and Mr. S. B. t'ottrell the engineer and general 
manager. A railway under the Mersey fioni Hii-kenliead was opened in 1885 
by the Prince and Princess of Wales, to meet the growing increase in the 
cross-river traffic, and this line, which ^jasses for 2,100 yards under the river, 
has since been connected with main lines on each side. 

Liverpool, with its great line of protected dockage and (puiyage, and the 
movement of vessels of every description and of every size along its water front, 
is seen in its finest panoramic effect from the Birkenhead side of the river ; but 
the city reveals itself also in increasing nudtiplicity of architectural detail and 
bu.siness activity to the visitor whose first impressions of it are obtained as he 
stands on the vessel that carries him over the Mersey bar to the landing-stage. 
At the same time, the pa.ssenger by rail does not enter Liverpool by any back 
door. At the Lime Street terminus of the London and North Western Railway he 
looks out inunediately on the nnniicipal centre of the city ; should he arrive at the 
Kxchange Station of the Lancashire and Yorkshire and Midland lines, he is at once 
in the connnercial heart of Liverixjol, suiTounded by noble aiul spacious buildings. 

ThkMeksey.] education at LIVERPOOL. 267 

Other lines land liim in scenes of shipping activity, others in more residential 
quarters ; but nowhere is he left in squalid surroundings. 

The front of the Lime Street Station itself adds to the picturesqueness 
of the street it looks upon. Almost opposite, in isolated grandeur, is St. Greoi-ge's 
Hall, and on one side of that building is the magnificent range of edifices 
of the classic order Avhere are housed the Brown Free Library (including the 
Museum of Natural History, presented liy the thirteenth Earl of Derb}'), the Mayer 
Museum of Antiquity, the Picton Eeading Koom, and the Walker Art Gallery — all 
alike monuments of the beneficence of merchants Avho in this way have enriched and 
adorned the city from which they drew their wealth. Even St. George's Hall, the 
cost of which was £330,000, was in the nature of a gift, it being paid for 
by the Corporation out of the dock dues, which they controlled iip to 1858, 
when the dues were transferred to the Dock Board. The fact, too, that the 
Corporation owned large estates makes the burden of taxati(jn rest lightly on the 
citizens of Liverpool ; and since the present century began, improvements have not 
ceased to be the order of the day in the city. The Town Hall is in Castle Street. 
It is in the Corinthian style, and is consj)icuous for its dome and its raised portico ; 
but a much more majestic building lies behind it in the Koyal Exchange — a structure 
in the Flemish Renaissance style, with a noble fac^ade, and wings that enclose a 
spacious quadrangle. Here on "the Flags," when the weather is favourable, the 
merchants and brokers of Liverpool mingle together in animated colloquy and strike 
their bargains. 

Education flourishes in Liverpool no less than commerce, and in all its branches 
has not been without liberal support. University College, although only inaugurated 
in 1882, has an endowment of over £125,000. It has a numerous staff of professors, 
technical and medical departments, and is affiliated to the Victoria University. 
There are several secondary schools of note. Schools of Art, and Nautical Training 
Institutions. The charitable societies of the city number over 100, the oldest in the 
medical sense being the Infirmary, which dates from 1748. Of open spaces there 
is nothing, of course, equal to the grand sweep of the estuary in front of the city. 
But there are ornamental grounds in the city itself, and in the outskirts recreation 
grounds and pleasure resorts, the largest and most picturesque being Sefton Park, 
which was purchased at a cost of over a quarter of a million. For water the city 
has gone into ]\Iid- Wales and purchased the Vyrnwy Valley, and from the lake 
and the reservoirs there is able to draw an unfailing supply of some fifty million 
gallons daily. The bisho])ric dates from 1879, but Liverpool is without ancient 
churches. St. Peter's, which serves as the pro-cathedral, is the oldest in structure 
but not in foundation (that distinction belongs to St. Nicholas', near the Prince's 
Dock), but this does not carry us further back than the beginning of the eighteenth 

A long list could be made of eminent men connected with Liverpool, were this 
the place for it. But there are two names that, ought not to be omitted — one is 

268 BITERS OF GREAT BRITAfX. [t..k Mehsev. 

Francis liacon. "the wisest, greatest, meanest of mankiiul," wlm was member for 
Liverpool towards the dose of the sixteenth C(>ntiir\-; tlic other is Mr. Gliulstone, 
who is a citizen of Liverpool by l)irtliriti]it as well as bv cDrnpliimiitarN- liurgcss 
tic-ket. It is interesting to add also that the Stanli'v (Derby) and the Jlolineux 
(Sefton) families ai-e still closely identitied witli the town. Tliev are no longer 
housed in tlie heart of Liverpool, but tlicir Lam-asliire .seats are close to its boundarie.s, 
and they rival one anoth(>r in the active interest they take in the muninipal, com- 
mercial, and educational }) of this great connnunity. 

It is the bottle-neck part of tlie estuary of the Mersey that runs between 
Liverpool and Birkenhead, but a good three-cpiarters of a mile of wattu- separates 
the two places. They are divided also In- countv distinctions: otherwise they may 
be regarded as one, their interests being identical. 3Ianv business men of Liverpool 
make Birkenhead and its out.skii-ts their home. Like the great citv on the other 
side, Birkenhead lias its landing-.stages ada])ted to the rise and fall of tlie tide. 
Its i-ange of docks lias already been touched u])on, and need only l)e referred to 
again to indicate that they do not nm parallel with the river, like those on the other 
side, but pass inland. Behind tliem aie tlie commodious Mater spaces known as tlie 
east and west "floats." Nearly all the great liners hnd their wav to the Liverpool 
.side, but on the Birkenhead side great liners are buih. Its slupbuildiuii' vards are 
among the most extensive in tlie kingdom, and include the great establishment of 
tlie Laird Brothers, from which the Confederate cruiser, I'/ic Alabama, was turned 
out in 1802. 

Proportionately. Birkenhead has made even greater progress during the century 
.so soon to than Liverpool. In 1800 its jxjpulation numbered only al)out 100 
person.s. That figure may now be multiplied 1,000 times over and still lie witliin 
the mark. Its toimage is about one-tenth tliat of Liverpool. In 1801 the town 
was formed into a Parliamentary borough, with a single nieml)er, the gentleman who 
became its first re^n-csentative beini:- tlie late Mr. John I^aird. of wliom t]ien> is a 
statue in front of tlie Town Hall. IJiikenhead has lieeii a municipal Itoroiiiih since 
1887. It did not, liowevi'r, wait for corporate privileges to show public spirit and It was one of the first towns of the kingdom, if not the very, to 
introduce tramways, wliich it did on the suggestion of George Francis Traiii. avIio 
had previously established a similar mode of conveyance in New York. It has long 
had a public park, 180 acres in extent, laid out bv Sir Jo.seph Paxtoii. and costing 
£140,000. Although a hundred years or so ago it consisted of less than a score 
of luiljitable, it can trace back its name for ceiiluries, and tlie ruins may be 
seen of the Henedictine Priory of liyrkhead, founded here in the eh'Veiilli ceiiturv, 
and whose monks in their simjile way did the work lliat is now carried oii by 
enormous steam fen-ies on the river, and by railway trains through a submarine tunnel. 

All along the inner line of the Wirral Peninsula, which here bounds the ^lersev, 
are jilea.sant residential suburbs, and at the exticme end lies Xew liriizhtoii. bel(«ved 
(»f Lanca.shire and (.'heshii'e folk, liumediati'l}- to the north of Xew iirigliloii is one 



[The JIerseY. 

of tlio dcfciu'os of the river in Rock Fort, and jnst beyond the fort is the Perch Rock 
Lighthouse. At this point, the visible sliore-Hne nf the Mersey on the west side 
conies to an end. but tlie channel of the river runs on over a well-buoyed line of 
route, some eight or nine miles furtlicr on. and for navigation purposes does yot 
really cease till the bar is crossed. nircctlv to the nortli-west of the Wirral 
Peninsula are great sandbanks, but tliese as a rule are witliin tlie ken only of the 
nuiriner familiar with the ins and the outs of this great conunercial highway. The 
total length of tlu' river is about 70 miles. At least 1'.? miles of that, towards the 
mouth, is a vast basin, having an average width of about two and a half miles, and 
containing at high tide some (JOO, 000, ()()(» tons of water. To see the Mersey here 
at the Hood is to agree with Drayton : — 

" Whence, where the i-i\ its meet with all their stately train, 
Proud Mersej' is so great in entering the INlain, 
As he would make a sea for KmiuMV to stand. 
And wrest the three-forked mace from out grim Neptune's hand." 


AM*^-i^ L^^AmStf^ 



A Birthplace of Rivers— Tin- Kiiuile : Ribblehead-^Horton-in-Ribblesdale— Survival of Did Traditions— Hellifield -The Ilndder 
— Stonyhurst and its College— The Calder— Burnley— Towneley Hall — Preston— Its Develoiiment as a Port. The Wvke: 
Poulton-le-Fylde. The Luxe: Kirkby Lonsdale— The Greta and the Wenning^Hornby Cistle —Lancaster— Morecambe 
Bay — The Journey from Lancaster ta Ulvcrstjn in Coaching Days— Shifting Sands. The Kext: Kentm^re— Keadal. The 
Gilpin and the Wixster. The Rothay and the Bkathay. Grasmere and Wordsworth — Rydil Water — Ambleside — 
Windenncre. Troutbeck. Esthwaite Water. The Levex : Newby Bridge— The Kstuary. The Ckake : 
Coniston Water — Coniston Hall — Bi-antwood and Jlr. Ruskin. The Duddox: Wordsworth's Simnets. 
The EsK and thclKr: Wastwater. The Liza: Ennerdale Water ThoEHi.v: E,T.moiit 
Castle. The Deuwext: The Vale of St. John— The Greta and Keswick — The View from 
Castlerigg top — Derwent water. 

.X tlio lonely moorland solitudes iiuarded li\' Inglel)orouii,li, 
Wliernside, and Pen-v-g-ont, with outlying- fells of almost 
mountain magnitude, may bo traced the Lirtlisprings of many 
important rivers. They shoot off to every point of the comj)ass, 
and, gathering in tributary waters from the best of our bold 
English scenery, are lost in the North Sea as with the Yorkshire 
Ouse, or in the Irish' Sea as with the Kibble, the Lune, and 
the many minor streams that diversify Morecambe Bay. The 
whole extent of this corner of the Xorth-^Yest Riding is wild, 
^-^^ open country, with diverging dales lost in fading distances : 
stone walls for leafy hedges, and limitless grazing uplands 
clothed with the herbage peculiar to unwooded elevations of over 
two thousand feet. In the blithe springtime, when the tender flush 
of green proclaims the renewed life-blood of the grass ; in the summer prime, 
■when the umbers and greys of prolonged heat are faintly changing the broad faces 
of the untrodden mountains and silent valleys ; and in winter, when all is white with 
unsullied snow, this exjjanse of billowy hill and fell has a grandeur all its own. 
Its features are repeated under a more striking development by-and-by in Lake- 
land, but this is the crowning point of the great backbone of picturesque highland 
which, beginning in Derbyshire, defines nmch of the boundary of Yorkshire and 

The RiHBLE is one of the rivers which take their rise from the Ingleborough 
and Whernside heights. It is a babbling brook as it is seen by the railway traveller 
at Ribblehead, but the source must be sought in one of the rills that tumble down 
the shoulders of Wold Fell. The difficulty usually encountered in tracing a 
mountain-born river to the precise bubble of water that may without hesitation be 
pronounced its source is intensified here. So miich depends upon circumstances in 
these matters. After a rainless month in summer, the wayfarer would note a water- 


[ThK RiBllLE 

^1.VI.M0KTH liltIl>UL ^,,. Z',jj. 

less country; let the rains descend, <>r the snows melt, and evcM-v 1:111 is silvered by 
tundjlinji' cascades, the air is nmsical with the leap of a hundred livuKts. So it is 
that, fr>r the Kibble's source, old Craven maps select Gearstones, north-east of Se'tle; 
more recent local authorities are divided between Wold Fell and Cam Fell; 
and for the worM at lar^'-e liiliblrliead serves the iieneral ])urj)()sc (vf idenlitication. 

The source of the Kil)ble. let the spot be where it mav, makes it impi-rative to 
associate with its distinctions the great cngineerhig triumph that ended in the 
awakening of its echoes by the railway train. From .Settle — where liirklieck, tlu^ 
founder of the Mechanics' Institutions of our youth, Avas born — to Carlisle is only a 
matter of seventy miles, but it cost the invaders three millions sterling; to overcome 
th'' obstacles of the stubborn rcniiine chain, and the entei'pris(> seenu'd 1o be Avell- 
nigh hi^peless wln-n tlicy advanced into the l'en-\-gent region. Tln' cinirse of the 
young- Kibldc had hci-caliouts to be divci'teil b\- the blasting out of a new cliaiiiicl ; 
but at length the line was safel\- laid a tlmiisand fcit aliovc seadevel, and clear 
running for the trains was achieved by means of nineti'cn tunnels., thirteen embank- 
ments, and cuttint^s ininniierable. 

There are a few villages in the early stages of the Kibbh", the first of any note 
being lIorton-in-Hiltblesdale. inider the .shadow of I'en-y-gent. The railway has 
little s]»oiled its primitive chai-acter. nor have the fre(|Ment expresses led to the dis- 
bandment of the bea;iles which >till hunt tlie wild retreats of the mountain-sivle. 

The Eibble.] 



There are ancient inliabitants in lonely farmhouses built of hard stone, and 
gleaming white from afar, who inherit the old traditions that portions of the moun- 
tain are honeycombed with giants' graves. There have long been legends to that 
effect, but men of science explain that the Avondrous bones unearthed from caverns, 
and Avliat not, lielonged, not to sons of Anak, but to huge animals now miknown. 
TIic dalesmen but slowly discard such beliefs, retaining them as of right, just as 
the shepherds on the fells, and tlie liard-headed farmers in the valleys, cling to the 
customs of their grandfathers. The high-road between Horton and Cliggleswick — -in 
whose grammar school Paley was educated— gives access to the heart of Upper 
Eibblesdale ; and the tourist visiting the cascades near Stainforth will recognise the 
stiu'dy bridge in the illustration (page 27'2) as a favourite resting-place. The river 
is represented in its peaceful mood, in one of its romantic bends. 

The country remains rich in its distinctive botany, and from no portion of the 
North do the great markets of Manchester and Leeds draw more of tlieir supplies 
of whortleberry and mushroom in the early autunm months. At such junctions as 
Hellitield these natural products of the moorland may be seen stacked by the ton. 
It is almost the only indication of the gradual change that must come with the new 
era. Yet until comparatively recent times the peel-house at Hellitield stood witness 
to the remoteness of the district. So long back as the reign of Henry VI. a licence 
was granted to the Hamcrton family to ' erect and keep as a place of defence the 

riioto : Frith i£- Co., Ikujule. 

luW.NXLEV UALL, KlUNLEV (jU. 270). 



[The Kibble. 

strong: square peel which guardod tlie west; and aroiiud Gisburno Hall, the ancestral 
seat of the Listers, represented now by the Ribblesdale family, the wild cattle of 
the breed perpetuated chieHy at ( "hillinghaui roamed at largo in the secluded 
woods of the hich tract whence the feeder Stockbeck fitfulh- iiicanders to the 
vallev of the Kibble. 

The bracing lileakness of l^owland Forest is relieved for many a league b}' the 
Hodder, the Kibble's largest and longest tributary, which is in part of its course a 
natural line of demarcation between the counties that gave title to princely houses 
when the realm was divided Ijy the Wars of the Roses. Dense fi'inges of bush and 
brier jn'odaim its progress, and exquisitely sweet spots, like that of the oak-covered 
knoll on wliidi stands the little chapel at Whitewell, occur iii tlie district where, to 
the commanding eminence of ancient Brownshohn Hall, a curious relic found its 
way — the veritable Seal of the Commonwealth, with a Bible between two branches of 
palm as the centre, and the inscription, " Seal for the apiDrobation of Ministers." 

The famous Eoman Catholic College of Stonyhurst, south-west of Longridge 
Fell, is near the meeting of Hodder "n-ith Kibble. Beautiful is its situation, 
wooded valleys dipping in the east, and beyond them the substantial landmarks of 
Clitheroe and Pendle Hill. Stonyhurst, even to one who has no cognisance of its 

modern character, its oi'igin, or the manner 
of its conversion from the mansion of 
tlic Sherburnes to the purpose wliich it 
lias fulfilled with high distinction f(^r more 
than a hundred years, has the appearance 
and atmosphere, even at a 
distance, of a place for studv 
and retreat. It is wlioUv 
removed from the Imsv world, 
anil all \]w surroundings give 
an involuntary impression of 
liarmony and (piiet. Stony- 
hurst was probably always a 
home of C\itliolics at heart, 
though the Sir Richard 
Sherburne who was one of 
Harry VIlL's Commissioners 
at tlie (lissolulion of religious 
houses did contrive* to b(> a 
favourite with young Fdwanl, 
Mary, and, after her, MHzalu'th. 
He it Mas who built part of 
the mansion on the site of 
an older baronial edilice; and 

r-ni;li>h Mild 

The Ribble.] 



the shapely west front, anion o-st other consideraljle portions of the present buildin.o-, 
IS his work. Tlie Slierburnos, however, were not able to tinish the structure; 
but Sir Xichok^s, Avho was made a baronet, in Avlioni the title became extinct, 
and who was a man of culture and travel, planned and laid out the gardens 

J) ( I ti 11 lilt 1, 1 1 I 

PltESTON, ritOM THE WEST (p. 278). 

which no visitor to Stonyhurst is likely to forget. Through Cardinal Weld, to 
whose family the property fell, it was in 1794 devoted to the use of the Jesuits 
driven from Liege by the French Revolutionists. Since then it has gathered high 
renown as an educational agency amongst the Roman Catholic aristocracy. 

In approaching Stonyhurst, even the simple village on its borders exercises its 
ti'anquillising influence upon the visitor ; the cemetery and oratory, the trim lawn, the 
trees on either side of the drive, the sheet of water, and the glimpse of the inner seclu- 
sion through the gateway, claim a share of the admiration which is given without stint to 
the imposing two-towered building so finely situated. The gardens are an enchantment ; 
and the fountain, the observatoiy Avith its Peter's telescope, the summer-houses, the tall, 
deej) dividing walls of ancient yew clipjoed square and pierced with archway exits and 

27<; RIVERS OF GREAT BRTTAiy. [The Cawfil 

entrances, Idend in strength en insr the conviction that here we are removed from scenes 
of strife. The Tudor-Gothic church is the most notable of tlic additions made since 
Stonyluu-st became a college eminent for the most perfect appliances for scientific study, 
for a well-furnished museum, and all that is best for students at work or play. In 
the Mitton area, which trends to a point where the two rivers miuii-le, may be found 
manv interesting specimens of tlie \\ell-]ir('s('rvod, lialf-timbered liouses for wliicli the 
two counties (each of wliidi claims a pmt of ]\Iitt()n) are celebrated. TIic well- 
known doggerel perpetrated in honour of this neighbourhood, mav be quoted — not, 
however, as warranted l)v anv climatic defects, but rather as showing tlic straits to 
which the author was put for a rhyme : 

"The Hud.kT, tho CaKtcr, lliliUle, ami rain, 
All meet together in ]Mittoii domain." 

Into the Ribble, at no great distance l)elow this ancient parisli, protruding hke a 
wedge into the County Palatine, flows the Calder, coming from the south-east, and from 
a district once as wild as Longridgc Fell and Bowland Forest, but now reduced to 
modem uses bv the cotton and worsted mills, calico works, and foundries of thriving 
Burnlev, through which ran a luunan way once upon a time. It has an indirect relation 
with the Ribble, being jjlaced on the Brun, the Calder intervening. Never had manufac- 
turing town a finer "lung" than is furnished by Pendle Tlill, which offers a cliuil) of 
1,800 feet above sea-level to the dwellers in a district which is in touch also (near or 
far) with Sawley Ruins, Blackstone Edge, and the \'ale of Crav(>n. Fox, th(> found(>r 
of the Society of Friends, was so carried away with delight in his travels there- 
abouts that he declares he was moved by the Lord to go uj) to the top of Pendle 
Hill, and in the clear atmosphere saw the sea shining beyond the Lamashire coast. 

Amongst many old houses of which Ijancasliire is proud is Towneley Hall, seat of a 
fanuly one of whose ancestors was dean of Whalley Abbey, the ruins of which are 
one of the most valued relics on the banks of the Calder. This takes us back to a ceiitur}- 
and a half before the Conriuest; and it was one of this ilk who was the last of the 
deans. The original liall of the Townelevs appears to have partly stood sonu'what 
.south of the man.siou which is the sul)ject of one of the illustrations to this chapter 
(jxige 22;j). Whitaker, the great authority on Lancashire history, Avas unable to 
a.scribe a date to the Hall, Imf it is evident to the nuxh'ru oliserver that portions 
are of considerable anti(iult\-. Manv nuist have been the changes, however, since the 
•six-feet walls were built. The work of Bichard Towneley in \Cy2S is known, and 
the addition was by W. Towneley in 1711. A still later member of the family 
removed turrets, gateway, chapel, and .sacristy to their i)re.sent ])osition, hut the 
rebuilding had been begun a few years earlier. The portraits, as is olten tlie case, tell 
in great measure what the Towneleys were in their day and generation: one died at 
Wigan Lane, another at Marston Moor; one Avas an eminent antiquary, another 
tran.slated ''IIudil)ras" into French, another collected art treasures, secured to the 
tx'iistces of the British Museum bv means of a Parliamentar\' grant. 


Some of the most interesting of the old Towneley relics were believed to have been 
brought from Whalley Abbey, built upon a spot which, before streams were polluted 
hv factories, Aielded fish from the river, and feathered game from the woods and heather, 
whilst the forest and park around the old Hall furnished abundance of venison. 
Burnlev then must have been a delightful tnwn, lying in its hollow, environed by swell- 
inf' moors and crystal streams. This is the country of wliich I'hilip (M'll)ert Ilamerton 
often pathetically speaks in his "Autobiography," though "the voice of Nature," to 
which he refers in one of his poems, must even in his young days have been thickened 
liere and there bv the smoke of tall cliiiiuieys, and marred by tlie echo of raucous 
sounds from foundry and loom. 

"Proud Pi-eston'' is an appellation wliieh luul its significance in another genera- 
tion, and was indicative of the loyalty of the town to old traditions, to the Crown, to 
its own independence. The hundred in which it was situated was attached, in the 
reign of Athelstan, to the Cathedral Church of York: hence Priests' Town, or Preston. 
This is evidence of a satisfactory old age; and in 1840 more was forthcoming from 
a rude box dug up from the alluvial soil on the banks of the Riljble, containing a 
precious store of coins, rings, and ingots, including nearly -3,000 Anglo-Saxon pieces. 
Higher up the stream was the still older settlement of Eibchester, the Roman station of 
Coccium, which declined into nothing as Preston increased in importance. The sweep 
of country surveyed from Red Scar, where the river curves into a liorseshoe course 
under a precipitous bank, or from tlie popular point of louk-out in Avenham Park, 
is studded with i)oints around wliicli liistory clings. 

The lonesinne moor where Cromwell routed Sir ]\rarmaduke Langdale and his 
Royalists has become an open space for the recreation of the ]KX)ple ; tlie Jacobite 
rebellions and the tt'ni]iiirar\- sojourn of Charles Edward on tliat disastrous Derby 
campaign are rememltrances diunned by the remarkable rise of Preston in modern 
times as a numufacturing and connnerc'ial town. This is owing to its position at the 
head of the Ribble estuary. There are two things in the present century of which even 
"Proud Preston" need not be ashamed: it was here that the first total abstinence 
pledge was taken in England, the siguatories being Joseph Livese}- and half a dozen 
brother-abstainers; and it was here that the practical working of the vote by ballot 
was tested in \H72. 

For more than tliirt}- years the tlourishing town, standing 1"20 feet abov(> its I'iver, 
has been undergoing im])rovcments, carried out with great public spirit. Sir Gilbert Scott 
designed for it the French-Gotliic Town Hall which rises gracefully al)ove the other 
buildings; County Hall, Free library, and I\Iuseum have been added; even tlie parish 
church has been rebuilt, and the once steepleless town now l)oasts, in St. Walburge's 
Roman Catholic Church, the loftiest .spire erected in England since the Reformation. 
An unbroken link with the past is the (mild-MiTchants' Festival, celebrated .since 1397 
(half a century before the first charter was granted); and for the last 400 years the 
" Preston (iuild" has been observed with intense fervour every twenty years, the next 
coming due in PJO'J. Tlu,' present writer was in Preston during. probal)ly, the saddest 

The Wykh.-J PBESTON. 279 

circumstances under -whicli such a celebration could occur. It was in 1863, when 
the cotton famine was sore in Lancashire ; but the Prestonians threw tliemselves with 
energy into tlie traditional observance, and made it a memorable success. Rose 
festivals, morris dances, and other old English revelries retain their hold here, as 
in other parts of Lancashire, and are likely long to prevail. 

It is as a port that Preston has recently claimed attention. Tlie changes effected 
since the passing- of the Ribble Navigation Act in 1883 have been striking. Tlie 
marsh Avhich kept the town apart from its river has been drained, and made fit for 
houses and streets. ^Yoods that were familiar objects in the immediate landscape have 
disappeared, and the deepening of the channel of the tidal Kibble to admit ships of 1,700 
tons has been but a natural result of Arkwright and his spinning-fx-ame, and the cotton 
industry that superseded the linen-making of the previous century. The new dock, 
opened by the Duke of Edinburgh in 1892, with the Corporation as its owners, cost a 
million of money. The scheme made it necessary to divert the course of the Ribble 
below the town, and the prediction of the eminent engineer. Sir John Coode, that there 
would be no port in the country with so free a run to the sea, has been fidfilled. Even 
Avitli tlie construction of docks, involving three miles' length of permanent railway 
sidings, the old charm of the scene is not entirely lost. The brawny shoulders of 
Longridge Fell may be discerned in the north-east; cattle and sheep graze on the 
levels ; the borders of the F\lde country are in view, and abrupt Rivington Pike is 
on the remote horizon. 

Between the estuarv of the Ribble and the south-eastern boundary of Lancaster 
Bay is tlie fertile Fykle district, the confcn-mation of which is, roughly speaking, 
that of a foreshortened peninsula. Tlie ]\Iargate and Ramsgate of Lancashire — if 
Lytham and Blackpool may be so-called — are on the outlying coast, but they are 
only of interest to us at the present moment from the arrival of the river Wyi^i; at 
Fleetwood. This is a seaport and military station of what nun', without offence, be 
termed upstart growth. It is but twentv-one miles nortli of Preston as the rail- 
way flies, and it has the double advantage of being a port and a watering-place. 
Within the memory of persons who heard about the coronation of (^)ueen Victoria, 
the place where this important hai'bour is now situated, with its lighthouse ninety 
feet high and showing- a glare that is visible for thirteen miles at sea, was a mere 
rabbi t-Avarren, its one adornment a dilapidated limekiln. Its population now must 
be cLjse upon 10,000, and from its docks lines of steamers ply to and from Belfast 
and the Isle of Man. 

The river Wyre, rising near Brennand Fells, on the western side of the Bowland 
Forest of which previous mention has been made, takes in as a small tributary 
another river Calder, which rises on Bleasdale Moor, forming part of a ridge of 
country often exceeding 1,700 feet above sea-leveh Wyresdale is noted for its 
striking combinations of wild and motley fells in recurring variations, altin-nating 
with copse and woodland. Ouc of the earliest ecclesiastical sites in Lancashire is 



[The Wvre. 

St. Michael's, some miles below Garstang; and, at a jioiiit where the river nears the 
estuarv, the W\'re for several niih-s is protected from the strengtli of its own 
ciu-rent by a ueries of artilieial Ijanks. Tlie old fashioned town of Poulton-le-Fylde 



WINDKIlMl'llE (;). 291). 

overloiiks tin- river wlicrc it expands into the >ah e.\|iause ol W'nic \\'al(r, ami the 
cstunrv. eontrary to llic usual raisloiii. alter liroadiMiinu' out consichaalilv , lunlracts 
soniewliat sharply at tlie nmulli, at llie western |iniiil of wliicli i> I"'!eet\V(iod. 

The Lvxf.] 

.1 i'o.v.vr river:' 


Our next river nas been cliarafterised bv "Faerie Queenc " Spenser as 

"tlie stony, shallow Lone, 
That to old Loncaster his name cloth lend." 

As the poet Avas probably born near the Burnley which ha> 
previous pag'e, lic> no doubt knew 
his Lancashire well, and spoke from 
the book when he claims that it 
gives name to the town and the 
countv. The Lune is what in the 
North-country is called a bonny 
river, and it rises, not on the edge 
of Riclnnondshire, as is sometimes 
stated, Init at the u})|)er extremity 
of a dale to the south-east of 
Wharton, in Westmorland. This is a 
portion of the upheaved Lancashire 
country, however, that stands some-- 
thing- midway between sea-level and 
the summits of its best mountains. 
The uplands and highlands of the 
early course of the Lune range 
between 500 feet and 1,000 feet, 
and the lower half is 
below the smaller tigurc. 
The course, however, is 
through a section of val- 
levs watered by innumer- 
able creeks, and kept in 
bounds by the Ion el \' 
fells. Sometimes, as at 
Howgill, there are fairy 
glens, and the occasional 
intervals of fertile pas- 
tures and wooded levels 
are a not ungrateful 
contrast. On one of the 
plains of the Lune is 
Kirkl)\' Lonsdale, the 

capital of a vale which ge.\smere {/>. 290). 

stretches away with 
lugleborough in the distance 
with its momitainou 

been described on 

The river courses round a half-circle, and the scene, 
ackground in the east, is particularly beautiful. 

2S2 l!iyi:iiS OF GRKAT BRITAIN. [The Uxe. 

It is a rare kiinl of paiiiiraina for tliis part of the cciiiiitrv. riic radiating 
vallovs in the Laiu-asliiro portion of the Lime's course bring in the Cireta and the 
Wenning. Tlie former nnist not be confomided witli the other Greta tliat is born 
near Helvellvn, nor with tlic trilnit;ir\' of the Tees in tlie Xortli Kidiiig, at tlie bi'idge 
of which Nicholas Nicklebv, oUl Sijuccrs, and tlie wrctclied bovs were put down 
from the coach cu route to Dothebovs Hall. This (Jreta which is a tributary of 
the Lune is a rockv-bedded, brawling, rushing little stream, tumbling down from 
Whernside. and. between Ingleborough and Ingleton Fells, finding its way through a 
dale which is nuich visited for the sake of the roaring subterranean waterfall of 
Wethercote Cave, the chariniug surrouiidiiiLis of Ingleton \illage. and tlie caves and 
fells of Kingsdale valley. 

The Wenning is the larger tributarw and its pDpuliir atti-;ii-ti;)ns ;irc the sul)- 
torranean grotto calh-d liigleborough Cave, ill the gloomy ( 'lapdide ravine, and 
llornbv Ca.stle, cons])iciU)uslv placed on a craggv height fringed witli ol 1 trees. 
This interesting countrv is now tiaversed 1)\- a railway liranching west lr<iiii Settle, 
with a jmiction at Claphani for the aforesaid Ingleton, and alVording to the travellcT 
a sii;Iit (jf Giggleswick Scar and the geological curiosity of ('raven Fault. 'i'he 
llornbv Ca.stle referred to was liiiilt b\- one of the N'ormaus uw the sit(> of a 
Roman villa, and the ruins near are those of a jiriorv reared in the sixteenth 
centurv. The vale of Caton, within a live-mile walk of l>ancasier. at the navigable 
limit of the Lune, moved the poet (Jrav to remarks wlii el i nnglit faiily lie anplitMl to 
more than one spot in Lunedale. These are the words: "To see the view in 
perfection, \-ou must go into a field on the left. Ileic Ingleborough. behind a 
varietv of lesser mountains, makes the background of the prospect. < )n each hand, 
up the middle distance, rise two sloping hills, the left clothed with thick woods, 
tlu: right with variegated rock and lierl)agi'. Between them, in the richest of 
vallevs, the Lune serpentines for nian\- a mile, and comes forth ample and clear, 
through a well-wooded and riddx-pastured foreground."" l"or the last seven miles of 
its course the Lune runs almost ))arallel to and within a short tlistauce id' Morecandje 
liav, and the narrow neck of land which it forms is distinguished \)\ the designation 
of Little Fvlde. 

While I'reston, as we hav(> seen, has been rising into importance as a port, ami 
the Kibble has been nuide worthy of vessels of considerable tonnage, Lancaster, 
though the county town, has <Ie( lined very swiftly in maritime importance in the 
course of the hundred -sears. Nn one looking at dnlm o|' (iaunt's old lionu' in 
the present dav. and upon the liusin<'ss transacted on the l.une. which passes by it. 
coulil guess that it was a verv considerable em])orium of connnerce, being, indeed. 
ranked alwve Liverpool when Charles I. levied the ship-money which brougdit him 
to disastei'. .\t that time Lancaster was assessed at I'ofI and Livcriionl at iL'2^). 
Even then tiie Lancaster .ships .sailed regulaiK' to the WCsi Indies and the Haltic. 
The sinuosity of the channel and the shallowness of the ancient ford near the town 
became a .M-rioiis hindrance to navigation, but li\ diiil of enterprising dri'dging 

The Luxe.] LANCASTER. 283 

Lancaster is still reckoned anionost the Kniili.-li ports, and at Glasson, wnere the 
little Conder flows into the estuary under the railway, there is a harbour and dock 
which may yet revive the prosperit}' of the town. 

Lancaster is one of the many Roman settlements about whose name antiquaries 
are entitled to contend. A piece of brass money, found under one of the foundation- 
stones of the arch of a former Lancaster bridge, was described as Danish, and in 
the time of King John the Abbot of Furness had royal permissioi^ to get timber 
from the King's forests of Lancaster for such of the repairs of the bridge as 
he was " liable to "' for his fisheries. These fisheries, like those of the Ribble, were 
once of the first class, and were granted to the Abbot of Furness in the reign 
of Stephen. There were alwaj's disputes, however, and sometimes hot f[uarreis, as 
to the rights in both salmon and timber, and king after king, according to 
the necessity of those da3's, backed u[) the Church, while legal regulations from 
time to time controlled the fisheries. From this, coupled with the fact that its 
first charter was granted by Richard I., we may without more ado conclude that 
Lancaster is an ancient borough. Indeed, there are many curious evidences of 
this kept alive in surviving customs, the origin of which must be found in 
musty gi-ants and charters. 

Lancaster Castle, through whose time-honoured owner tlie countA- became a 
duchy, was strongest, perhaps, in the reign of p]lizabeth, when tlie threat of a 
Spanish invasion led to the overhauling of all its points of defence. This, too, 
was the date of the strengthening of the great keeji, the renmant of which is 
a treasui'ed example of Norman architecture. Fron; a mighty royal and baronial 
residence the castle has now become a gaol, and .Tohn of Gaimt's Oven, as the 
mill and bakery of the fortress was termed, became the Rec-ord Office. There were 
five monastic establishments in I.,ancaster, with privilege of sanctuary. The time 
came when the privilege was of no avail. But the unfortunate rebels of 1715 entered 
Lancaster vai\\ flying colours, bravelv marching, and mustering in the market-place 
to the skii'l of the bagpipes. They proclaimed the Pretender King of England 
under the title of James III., and some of them, jjoor fellows, retm-ned soon after- 
Avards, not in search of the sanctuary they needed, but to be imprisoned in the 
castle, and to suffer the last penalty of the law as in their case made and provided. 
Even in the '45 Charles Edward, at the head of his little band, must needs trouble 
Lancaster, but the invaders were only passing through on their way to Manchester 
and Derby. A second time they came here, and then they were in full retreat, 
heralds of a finally lost cause. 

The situation of Lancaster on the flank of a hill is most favourable for an 
appi'eciation of its appeai'ance, and the castle buildings on its summit give a 
remarkable panorama of the town, the valley of the Lune winding on its way to 
the sea through the lowland. The principal gateway of the castle is an ancient 
portcullised archway, flanked by octagonal towers, and in it are chambers to which 
far-off traditions refer, for the authorities assure us that the gateway belonged to 



[The LrNE. 

'• tinie-liououivd Lancaster's" tower, while in an apartment called the Pin Box Henry 
IV. irave audience to the Kins>- of Scotland and the French Ambassadors. The 
dunu-eon tower, demolished in 181S. became the penitentiary for women ])risoners. 
•• John of (iaunt's Chair "" is a turret at the top of the tower, and from this 
eminence of ninety feet snperb views, which in clear weather comprise shado^\"\- 
forms in the Lake-country, are to lie ol)tained. Whewell, the ^^laster of 'J'rinitv 
College, is one of the worthies of 
whom the town is proud, and all 

Nf.WllY IliaiMiK {p.'2V'i) 

one of its carjjenters. J3ut for the accident of the lad attract iiii:- the attention of 
a kindly master, and the existence of a (irannnar School, founde(l in 14S:! bv 
John Gardiner, the distin<i;uished scholar might never have attained his cniiiicnce. 
Another pupil (»f the school was .Sir Kichard Owen, the great naturalist. 

A couple <jf lines by Spenser prefaced these remarks about the Luni\ and an 
extract from the river-poet, Drayton, may well conclude them: — 

" For siiliiKiii 1110 excels ; and for tliis name of Lun, 
That I iini cliristeneil by tlie Britons it bejiun, 
Wliicli fulness doth import of wat<?rs still increiise 
To Ne)itnne l>owting low, when christal Lune doth ceiise ; 
And Conder coming in conducts her lij- the hand, 
Till lastly she salutos the Point of Sunderland, 
And leaves our dainty Lune to Aiiiiihitrite's cai-o. 

Then hey, they cry, for Lune, and hey for Lancashire, 
Tliiit (Hie lii;ih hill w;ls heanl to tell it to his lirother." 

'flxTc are streams which find their wav, .sometimes tln-<ni-]i drvious ami uncertain 
channels, into Morecandie May, but they are little known even to the impiisitive 

The Kent.] 



angler, wIki is always in search of new waters. The local sportsmen in their wisdom 
periodically look for the run of silver sea-trout, and keep their secret. The line 
of tlie bay from its north-eastern corner, where the Kent comes in, and round to 
Walney Island, is in the most literal sense irregailar, for its indentations and river 
tributaries are continuous. It forms tlie intake of what Windermere and Coniston 



water send down to the sea, and it is, 
THE LIZA yLowiNG INTO ExxERDALE WATER {p. 297) moreovcr, tlic Watery foreground from which 

the world-famed scenery of Westmorland and 
Cumberland may be finely viewed. At Carnforth and Silverdale the outlook in 
this dii-ection is unrivalled; Fairfield, Helvellyn, and Ked Screes loom in the clouds 
or stand clear against the sky afar, and along the shores of the Bay are nestling 
towns and villages, wooded knolls and slopes, cottages, farms, and, always behind 
them, that wonderful amphitheatre, tier upon tier, of mountain. 

In pre-railway days the journey from Lancaster to Ulverston was something of 
an adventure, always exciting, not only on account of the scenery brought under 
review, but because of the absolute danger of the shifting channels that had to be 
crossed. The coach was invariably joined at Hestbank (a cliff about three miles 
from the county town) by guides, whose duty it was to be up to date with the last 
manoeuvres of the quicksands, and to be ready with safe crossing places. These 
guides were an old institution, and were originally appointed and paid as retainers 
by the Prior of Cartmel. When the downfall came, and there was no longer an 

286 HrrEIiS OF GREAT BRITATX. [The Kent. 

abbey treasui-e-chcst to fall back upon, the Duchy of Lancaster paid the wages. It 
used to be said that few of those who got their living by ''following the sands" 
died in their beds. Nevertheless, the calling of guide was kept in the same family 
for generations The dani:er of this passage of the sands was long ago put into 

a distich — 

" The Kent .ind the Keer 
ll:ive parted many a good man and his niear." 

Some of the channels, it was said, were never two days togotluT in the same place. 
The Keer mentioned in the old couplet was very treacherous, and was al\va\s 
carefully sounded before the coach ventured to cross. Sand tracks had to bo staked 
out with furze-bushes, as the channel of a river is buoyed. Perilous dillicultics 
were apprehended when nearing the Cartmel tongue of tlu' Kent : the Levcn sands 
beyond Cartmel and I'lverston were the worst of all. Tlie poet Wordsworth 
told Mrs. lltMuans, according to the lady's own letter, that he admired her exploit 
in crossing the Ulverston sands as a deed of derring-do, and as a decided proof of 
taste; and he truly added that the lake scenery is never seen to such advantage 
as after the passage of what he calls its majestic barrier. 

Before arriving at the Lake district we might in farewell turn our faces to 
the .south, .standing in imagination at Silverdale. There in tlir picture are the 
Wharton Crags, with houses great and small amongst their wooded feet ; and then 
there are Bolton-le-Sands, Ilcstbank. Poulton-le-Sands (which to all intents and 
purposes is Morecambe), Hcy.shani. and Lanca.stcr Bay. It is a jouriiev of twenty-si.x 
miles by rail from Lancaster to Ulverston. and the greater jjart of the distance is close 
to the shores of ^lorecambe Bay. The traveller going north, therefore, has the sea 
laving the tract to his left, and always, as an alternative prospect, rock, wood, stream, 
bushy dales and retiring glens to the right. From the sea the li.shermen obtain 
great store of shrimp and flat fish. There are border guard-houses, such as Arnside 
Tower; and in reaching Hawes Tarn (which is said to be affected somehow 
by the and fall of the tide) groves of larch and pine, with a ])lenteous under- 
growth of gorse and ling, o£Eer themselves to the view. Picturesque Holme Island, at 
the mouth <tf the Kent, and the ruins of Peel Castle on the islet of tliat uanie, 
enter into the picture in other directions. 

The river Kkxt, upon whose left bank the town of Kendal is situated, nuist 
not long delay our round of the .streams that await introduction. It gives name 
to Kentmere village, and to the reservoir, or tarn, fed by the beck springing from 
the mountain bearing, in memory of the lionuni road which neared its loftiest point, 
the very familiar lunnc of High Street. riiere is also Kentmere Hall, renniant of one 
of the peel towers, and Ijirthjdacc of Bernard Giljtin. tlic almost t'oriiottcn Apostle ot 
tlie North in the dangerous times of Mary and Elizabeth, and alter whom a parallel 
stream westward is called. The Kent, like the Mint from (nayrigg Forest, and the 
Sprint ruiniing down the middh' of Long Sleddale — like, indeed, unnumbered liecks 
on every hand in the whole di.striet — is of the rapid order, aboiindiiig in boulders, 

The Kent.] 



shing-ly strands, deep channels between banks of iin[)erishable rock, opening pools and 
pebbly shallows, haunts of trout and of the anglers wlio understand their ways and 
know the seasons when salnionidre should be ascendin"- from the salt water. 


Her Majesty Catherine Parr, Avho had the good fortune to escape the ])eril of 
burning- as a heretic, and the loving attention which was fatal to other wives of 
Bluff Harry, was born on the banks of the Kent, in the castle whose ruins are a 
prominent object in the scenery of which Kendal is the centre. Wordsworth 
sketches it in happy terms : — 

288 RIVFR!^ OF GREAT BRITAIX. [The Ki,nt. 

" A straggling burgh, of ancient charter proud, 
And dignified by battlements and towers 
Of a stern castle, mouldering on the bniw 
Of a green hill." 

8lKikt'sj)earo ami otluTs refer to Kciidal in cuniiectiDii witli an Industry estali- 
lishcd 1)\' the Fleniin<rs, wlio settled tlicrc under I'ldward III. They liecanie famous 
for their woollens, and their sjiecial "Hue"" was tlie cloth termed "Kendals" in 
trade parlance, and •■ Kendal-<:'rei'n " liv the outlaws and their eritics. This was 
the colour of the clothes Avorn by the "three niisheo:otten knaves" whose exploits 
upon Falstaff were denouneed by Prince Henry as lies " izross as a mountain, open, 
palpable.'' The foresters" cloth made by the Fleniiiiizs was deservedly popular ; 
but cotton superseded woollens in the last century, and this in time yave place to 
other textile falmcs. 

The (iii.i'ix ilows into the head of the lon.u' ami crooked estuary a mile or so 
away from the mouth of tlie Kent river: and, furtluT soTith. the viaduct carryin{T; the 
railwav to Grange crosses tVom Arnside. The isolated (■<nilcal hill. Castle Head (or 
Castle Hill), is prettily brightened by foliage, and it is a signilicant survival of 
the old landmarks. Tlie waves used to wash the base of this now In'gh and dry 
eminence, for the plain traversed by the river WixsTiiK is mostly land ri'claimed from 
the .sea at different times, but most extiMisively for the construction of the railway. 
Holme Island is opi)osite and near the nxtuth of the A\'inster. and has not been 
inaptly descrilx'd as a marine ])aradise made by the art and industry of man from 
a rude, isolated rock upon which previously nothing better than whins and brand)l(\s 
.struggled for i)recarious motliold. The cau.seway which joins this beautiful little 
realm of a few acres to the mainland makes it an island only in name, but tlu^ 
name abides. Upon the (artmel peninsula is the woode(l domain (d Ilolker Hall, 
which was tlie favourite autuumal I'csort of the late Duke of Devonshire. 

The nnich more .sjiacious jieninsula of burness — with I'lverston as its central 
town, the great docks ami >lii])building yards of I'anow marking modern, 
and the ruins of Furness Abbey pointing to a distant ])ast is divided from ( 'ai'tmel 
liy the estuary of the Ijeven. Leven IVom oiu' point of consideration means W'indei-- 
merc and entrance to the uncliani:ing beaiit\ of Lakeland. The river Leven, how- 
ever, is l>ut a conclusion; in oth<r words, it is the (inal liidv of the chain of water- 
pictures which have in.spired many !i poet ; and to arrive at the iirst we nnist leave 
fr»r a moment the .sands of .Morecandte Hay and take a new de]iai-1ure away b(>yoml 
Gra.smere. where tlie river Hotmav (or I'otha) is formed by a congn^gation of 
nmrmuring becks or ^ills. One of the b'cdcrs (d' the b'othay comes Irom the tiny 
( Vxlale Tarn and the larger Kasedalc Tarn, well known to tourists from the rattlin;:- 
htth- waterfall. Sourmilk Force. ( 'odalc lies prclly lil-li in the world, lising to an 
altitude con.siderablv over 'i,()(M» b'ct. Faseihdc is a basin somewhat down bill, and is 
in these days nmch better known than when Wordsworth strolled besiJ.e its out- 

TheRothav.] GRASMEUE village and WnBDsWORTH. 289 

poiu'iug (Stream, and confessed to having composed tliousands of verses in tlie 

solitude of the vale. The conspicuous headland of Helm Crag is an essential 

part of the scenery, and it is climbed for the sake of the view over Grasmere, 
"Windermere, Esthwaite Tarn, Helvellvn, and Fairfield. 

rxXEKDALE (p.'Z'J^j. 

It may be remarked that we are now in the region of tarns and pikes, and the 
derivation of the former word, if not strictly correct, is not unpoetical, for it is said 
to mean " a tear.'' This imaginative investment reminds us of Wordsworth's 
declaration that the stream which traverses Easedale is now and again as wild and 
beautiful as a brook may be. The river Rothay, however, does not rely entirely 
upon this immortalised brook, but it can fairlv reckon upon what can be S23ared from 
the tarns when the other gills fail in their shrunken currents. In the valley is the 
village of Grasmere, sacred to Wordsworth's cottage ; and the churcli, containing a 
medallion of the author who sang its "naked rafters intricately crossed," and 
whose grave and that of members of his family, with Hartley Coleridge lying hard 
by, and a memorial-stone to Clough, attract renewed streams of pilgrims. The 
cottage is not far from the church, and it is now owned by trustees, who keep it in 
order for the in.spection of visitors. There is no section of this district which is not 
beautiful, and the recumng clumjjs of ti-ees recall how the cf)untry was at one 
time alleged to be so covered with wood that wild boars abounded. There was, 
and probably is, a local saying that a squirrel could travel frum Kendal to Keswick 
without once touching the ground. 

290 J,'n7:/?S OF GliEAT B1HTAIX. [T„k Rothay. 

It was at tliis cottago tliat \\ onlswurtli lirst set u]) linusckct^piiui-, and uianv 
and JistinuuisluMl witc his visitors to Grasinero. It luul been previously a rustic 
inn luider the proplu^tie sign of the "Dove and OUvo Bough"'; and upon about 
£100 a year the poet contrived to entertain relays of Wsitors, amongst them Southey, 
Coleridge, and Scott. It Avas, perhaps of necessity, a teetotal cottage, and it was 
here (according to report; that Sir Walter, after dinner, used to pretend that he was 
going for a meditative stroll, ami report to the public-house for a draught of what 
was best. Until recent years the descendant of a certain jiublicau — who was said 
to have given Scott awav by atldressing him. as lie ;nid ^^^l^lsw(n•tl! walked up, 
with, " Ah. Master Scott, you're early to-day for your drink " — was pointed out 
as an inhabitant of the village; but there is some doubt aljout this prettv storv, 
as Sir Walter only visited Wordsworth for one day while he resided at the 
cottage, and then it was a call in company with Davy, on an occasion when they 
a.scended Helvellvn together. On the Avhole, the Lake district nuist remain a most 
temperate region, for it was reported that on the Christmas dav of so recent a 
year as ISOti a party of young men who called at the most elevated public-house 
in England were the fii'st customers the landlord had seen for six weeks. 

The liothav courses south, a short length between the village and the mere. 
Writ large in literary associations, and a household word amongst English-speaking 
peoples, (irasmere is Init a mile long, and nothing like so broad at its widest 
part, Itut it is a precicjus gem in a setting where all is worth v. Grav, whoso prose 
descrii)tions of Lakeland are passed on from writer to writer, ri'joiced exceedingly 
because not a single red tile, and no staring gentleman's house (meaning probably 
no gentleman's staring house) broke in upon the repose of th(> unsuspected jiaradise. 
The paradise is not any longer unsu.spected ; it is ])ulilic projjerty : but there are 
still left the eternal hills, Grasmere water hollowed in their bosom, the snudl bavs 
and miniature ju'omontories, the soft turf green as an emerald, trees, hedges, cattle, 
pastures, and ('((rn-land — items of description that mav in a varying degree apjdy 
to almost every one of these famous sheets of Lakeland water. In truth, there is no 
better travelled gi-ound in the three kingdoms than this : and it may l)e assumed 
once for all that its general attractions are known to the reader, and that we are 
free to proceed with our jmrpose of showing the jiart borne by the rivers us 
connecting ways, and systems of supply and I'olief for the lakes. 

The river Kothay does pri'cisely what Wordsworth did : it moves from 
Gra.smere to Hydal, flowing along the base of Loughrigg Fell, avoiding the 
terrace and curving up towards the "Wishing (late" to the western point of 
Kydal Water. From any of the paths which conduct downwards the course of the 
Hothay is brightly and clearly nuii)p(,'d. We need not pause at livdal Blount, 
Wordsworth's last residence, nor at the rock which is remembered as his favourite 
seat, nor at Kydal Hall and the .shade-giving trees of its ]iark. nor follow the li(>ck 

t<» the little tumliles of water m d b'vdal Falls, nor stroll tbe hall' mile wliicli 

would bring us to Fox Mow, the holiday retreat <•(' Arnold <il' Uugby. .Vniongst 

The Brathay.] WINDERMERE. 291 

the trees in the so-called Rydal forest there are oaks that must often have given 
pleasure to Wordsworth in his rambles ; and the beck which is always scurrying 
to the Rothay receives its impetus from the steepness of its journev from the 
mountain — 

" Down Rydal Cove from Fairfield's side." 

On past Ambleside, which it leaves untouched to the left, the Rothay proceeds, 
with greetings from Rydal Water to busy Windermere. Ambleside, though it has no 
immediate lake view, is not without its water effects, both heard and seen when 
the swollen little tributary gives power to Stock Ghyll Force, a very respectable 
fall of some seventy feet. Every visitor to Ambleside pays homage to this romantic 
termination of a delightful walk through a sylvan enclosure. Ambleside is nowadays 
practically connected with the lake by Waterhead and the extended occuj^ation of 
the flat; and a short distance above tlie head of the lake is the junction of the 
Brathay and the Rothay. The former, like the latter, is in intimate relations with 
lakelet and feeder, and, in truth, cuts an important figure by its drainage of Great 
and Little Langdale, its reception of svmdry gills from the dominating pikes which 
seldom allow themselves to be forgotten in the Windermere county, its inclusion of 
Little Langdale tarn and Elterwater, and its share in keeping in action various 
waterfalls, of which Dungeon Ghyll Force and the Mill Beck Cascades are the best. 
The neighbourhood elicited the warmest admiration from Professor Wilson, who said 
that sweeter stream scenery with richer foreground and loftier background was 
nowliere to be seen within the four seas. Of the three lakelets he jjreferred the 
small tarn on Loughrigg I'ell — 

" By grandeur guarded in ite loveliness." 

The two rivers have time and space to combine in a united volume before 
fairly entering Windermere. It is strange to notice the exaggerated idea entertained 
by those who have never explored Lakeland as to the dimensions of such waters as 
Windermere, Ullswater, and Derwentwater. They have read so much and so often 
about them that they have become visions of vast distances, inland seas upon which 
storm-bound mariners have to run to port for shelter when the stormy -winds do 
blow. Yet Windermere, the first of the lakes in dimensions, is not more than ten 
miles and a half in length, and, except in its broadest section, opposite Windermere 
and Bowness towns, less than a mile broad. Its real greatness lies in its exquisite 
islets or holms, and in the commanding views which receive so much charm from the 
intervening foreground of water, however limited in extent it may be. 

Two of the feeders of Windermere, and they the principal ones, have been 
mentioned in their geographical order; and there remain to complete the category 
at least two others. Troutbeck, which is said to be one of the few streams in 
all Lakeland that are of small value to the angler, comes in from the north-east 
down a beautiful valley, an easy excursion distance either from Ambleside for the 
higher, or from Windermere for the lower, portions ; and midway, under Wansfell 



[Thk Troitxeck. 

Pike, lies Troutbeck village, the most picturesque conceivable, as it was also A\lieii 
Christopher North wrote oi the scattered dwellings '' all drojiped down where the 
painter and the j>oet would have wished to plant them, on knolls and in dells, on 
banks and braes, and below tree-crested rocks — and all bound together in ])ic- 

turesfpio confusion 
by old groves of 
ash, oak, and syca- 
more, and by flower- 
gardens and fruit- 
orchai'ds ricli as those 
of the llesj)erides." 
There to the north- 
east, over against 
Kentmere Reservoir, 
111 Boll offei-s the 
temj)tation of an 
ascent of 2,476 feet, 
and Troutbeck valley 
is preferred as on 
the Avhole the easiest 
and pleasantest route. 
Esthwaite Water, 
one of tlic smaller 
lakes, and a satellite 
of ^^'iu(l('l■lllere, is 
also narrow in ]n'o- 
])ortion to length, 
and a matter of 
four miles removed 
to the west. Xo 
one is heard to rave 
about its honu'lv 
shores and indifferent 
setting, but it comes 
under friujuent notice 
from its nearness to Ilawkshead, a quaint little nunkct-town with a notal)l(' chinch, 
unil u grannnar school, one of whose forms is preserved with Wordsworth's initials 
cut in it. Ksthwaite Water, however, is bound to receive its due in these j)ages, 
as the helpmeet of Windermere through the medium of the slioit and business-like 
Htreaui (.'rxsr.v Hkck. At the point where this feedei- is lost in the lake, though 
it iM not itH deepest ])art, the angler mav reckon upon the miscellaneous sport 
which is yielded by the lakes generally. In tlie dee]»er waters (and the plinnli line 

THE OllETA IIETWKKN TI1111.1.K.1.1.1J .V.MJ hL>rtICK (/I. 298). 

The Lkven'.] 



makes the bottom 240 foot at the maximum depth) the char, only to he fomid iu 
a few locaHties in the thi'oe kingdoms, occurs. Its capture with rod and line is 
sport of a kind, but it is inferior in this respect to the trout. At a time when the 
available rivers for the angler who cannot afford to be his own riparian owner are 
becoming fewer and fewer, it is a little remarkable that these countless becks, 

tarns, full-sized 
streams and lakes 
are not more 
highly prized by 
the fisherman- 
tourist. It is true 
that Windermere, 
from one cause 
., _ .3%, >-_>*- '^^^ -■■ '^^^-'- ^ nxmmKMj^^ and another, ha.- 


of late years fallen inti> disrepute, but 

under the operations of a local association the uerwent at ckosthwaite {p. 29S). 

there has been distinct imj^rovement, 

though steamer traffic must always seriously reduce the value of such fishing 


Very pleasing to the eye are the undulating shores, and the green of the grass, 
and the foliage of Windermere at its southern end. At Lakeside it is so narrow 
that it is hard to jnit your finger on the spot where the Leven begins, though, 
for want of a better, Newby Bridge, as shown in the illustration (p. 284), will 
serve. The Leven, as before remarked, is the last link of our Windermere chain, 
but after Rothay and Brathay, and the becks with their forces and falls, we need 
give it but the consideration which is due to an outlet bearing to the sea such 
waters as Windermere does not want, through the long tortuous chamiel in the 
sandy wastes of Morecambe Bay. 

The Chake river falls into the Leven so near its mouth that it miglit almost 
claim to be a tributary. But it is independent and apart in its character and 


mission. It belongs to Coniston Water, as Lovcn belongs to Windermere ; and 
the commonplace scenery of its short course, with its trio of bridges, is another 
mark of similarity. All that is noticeable around Coniston lake is at the upper 
portion. The steamer pier is at Waterhead, the village and station are half a mile 
inland: the ()ld Man of Coniston ("^,030 feet), whom generations of climbers have 
been proud to attack, is in the same direction, and Yewdale and its tarn, howes, 
crags and fells are towards the north. The coaching traveller may feast his 
e3'es upon the lancet-shaped water, some five miles long from SchooUjeck at the 
upi^er or from the Crake at the lower terminal, and of a uniform width of about 
lialf a mile ; while the upward trip from Lake Bank affords clear and happy views 
i)f the mountains of which the Old ]\ran is the irrepressible head. Off the high 
i-oad opposite Coniston Hall, a farmhouse once the Westmorland seat of the Le 
Fleming family, is Brantwood, associated "VA'ith the names of Gerald Massey, poet 
and self-made man. of Linton the engraver, and of Ruskin, great as any of those 
giants of literature wliose nanu^s are linked with Lakeland. 

The river Duddox as a thing of beauty lias often been overpraised, no less 
an authority than Wordsworth setting tlie example when, in liis "Scenery of the 
Lakes," he says it may be compared, such and so varied are its beauties, witli 
anv river of equal length in any country. Yet there are streams in Wales, aiul 
even in the north of England, which their admirers Avoidd not hesitate to rank al)ove 
it. It rises upon Wrynose Fell, on the confines of Westmorland, ( 'umlierland, and 
Lanca.shire, and for twenty-five miles or so is the boundary between the two 
latter counties. It possesses, no doubt, a certain picturesqueness, having its wild 
mountain jjhases, its torrents roaring around obstructive rocks, its passage through 
fertile meadows, and at last its slow ending through the everlasting sands to an 
open outlet into the Irish Sea at the north end of Walney Island. 

Donnerdalc, with Seathwaite as its most notable centre, has received much 
attention because Wordsworth (from whom we cannot, and would not if we could, 
escape in Lakeland) made it the subject of thirty-four sonnets, dedicated to his 
brother ( 'liristopher. The poet evidently set himself down to glorify this particular 
district by prolonged oljservation — 

" . . . For Duililon, lonji-liclovpcl DiuUloii, is niv tlioine." 

In the course of his sonnets he sings its dwarf willows and ferny brakes ; its 
sullen moss and craggv mound ; its gi-een alders, ash and birch trees, and sheltering 
pines; its hamlets under verdant hills; its barns and byres, and spouting mills. Nor 
does he fail tr> celebrate the gusts that lash its nuitted forests. When the gale 
becomes to(t ol)streperous, then, reckless of angry Duddon sweeping by, the poet 
turns him to the warm hearth, to 

" Lau^li with the generous housohoM hciirtily 
At nil ihr iiir-iry pfaiiks of Domicidfile." 

The Duddon.] 



The only pollution he would admit in this innocent stream was the occasional sheep- 
washing by the dalesmen. In his notes Wordsworth recommends the traveller who 
would be most gratified Avith the Duddon not to approach it from its source, as is 
done in the sonnets, nor from its termination, but from Coniston over Walna Scar, 
first descending into a little circular valley, a collateral compartment of the long, 

winding vale through which 
the river flows. In fact, 
Wordsworth's notes are a 
very excellent guide to the 
district, and Thorne, who 
Avas a first-hand authority 
upon rivers, confessedly took 
the poet as his cicerone 
when he followed the stream 
from the very top of W^ry- 
nose, marking even the bed 
of moss through which the 
water oozes at the source. 
AVith a poet's licence, Words- 
worth likens his river finally 
to the Thames ; but though 

the Duddon widens considerably at Ulpha, it loses its beauty before it 
its career. 



Following the coast around Haverigg Point, whence the sand of the coast 
becomes only the decent margin which makes the sliore pleasant, we pause at the 
three-branched estuary of the, the creeks, right, left, and middle, being formed 
by the Esk, the Mite, and the Irt. This is all majestic country. Our Cumberland 
Esk hails from Scafell, whose pike of 3,210 feet is the highest ground in England. 
Upper Eskdale may also be spoken of in the superlative degree for its marked 



[The Esk. 

irrandcur. Xo mean skill in mountaineering is requii-ed to reach Wastdale, Langdale, 
and Borrowdale from the different paths. The Esk Falls are formed by the junction 
of becks from l^iwfcll and Scafell. The line cataract, Cam Spout, descends from 
Mickledore ; and llardknutt. which is one of the lesser hei<!:hts, has a Roman ruin 


Spoken of as a castle. Tliere are, moi-eover, Baker Force and Stanlev (lill amongst 
the waterfalls. Little need be said about the second-nanu>(l liver, tlie ^Wtr. I'xcejit 
that it passes the fell, the railway station, and the castle, bearing eadi tlic nainc 
of ^funcaster. 

The river Ii;r is tlie outlet of Wastwater, a gloomy lake three and a lialf miles 
long and half a mile broad, and of immense depth. It is a tradition in Lake- 
land tluit this jnece of water is never frozen, but tin's is dearly an error, for tliere 
is a distinct record by the learned brotlier of Sir Humphry Davy that it was 
partly c<jvcred with ice in the great frost of iS.j."). The desolate crags around tlie 
lake arc answerable for nnich of its severe character, and perhaps it was on this 
account that the Lakers used to vi.sit it. AVaugh, the Lancashire poet, encountered 
a local gossip who was full of memories of Wordsworth, Wilson, De (^tuiiicey, and 

The Irt.] 



Sedgwick, and the man very much amused his listener by describing Wordsworth 
as a very quiet old man, who had no pride, and very little to say. Christopher 
North was naturally a horse of another colour, being full of his gambols, and 
creating gi'eat excitement by his spirited contests with one of the Cumberland 
wrestlers. Wastwatcr is t)ften violently agitated by heavy squalls from the south, 
which is somewhat of an anomalv, seeimr that the boundary on that side is a 


mighty natural rampart named the Screes, so called from the loose natui'e of 
the scarps, which tend to make some of the neighbouring mountains practically 

Ennerdale Water, a few miles to the north, receives its first influx from the 
river Liza, locally known as Lissa Beck. It is a lovely valley, and there is no 
overcrowding of population. The last house is the farmhouse of Gillerthwaite, and. 
further progress upwards to the mountains is by footpath only. This is in truth 
the only excuse for mentioning the Liza, though it might serve as an opportunity 
for singing the praises of the Great Gable, formerly known as the Green Gable. 
It is one of the most consjjijuous of mountain heads, and its frowning peak meets 
the view from great distances. Pillar Mountain, which is nearer Ennerdale Plain, 
is almost exactly the same height — 2,927 feet, which is about seven yards less 


than the Gable — and it lias a pinnafled and abiiipt descent almost to the confines 
of the lake. Ennerdale Water at one time had the character of being the best 
fishing resort in the Lakes. " The Anglers' Inn " is not, as may be supposed, an 
establishment of modern growth, for it is bepraised in the literature of forty years 
ago. The bold headland jirojecting into tlie water at the westeiii end was more 
than half a centurv back well known as Angler Fell, for a reason which the 
term itself explains, and at that time one of the curiosities of the lake was a collec- 
tion of loose stones which, according to tradition, had been placed at the head of 
the shoal by unknown mortal or supernatural liands. Anyhow, the heap was always 
pointed out as a mystery until a scientific visitor eNi)lained it away by pronouncing 
it to l)e the remnant of an old nioiaine. 

Though not so deep as Wastwater, Ennerdale \\'at('r can boavst its twenty. 
four fathoms, and the familiar statement is made as to its immunity from ice, 
the fact being that it is only in the severest frosts that these uncommonly deep 
laki's are affected. At the lower end the river Eui:x takes up the duty of 
carrying the overflow to the sea. describing a long and semicircular course that 
from opposite St. Bees becomes by (piick swerve a journey due south. Tlic valley 
thence is of a pastoral character, and is perhaps best known from tlie estal)- 
lishment on its banks (long before the Cleator Iron "Works sent uji tluir smoke) of 
the little town of Hgremont, with its ruins of a stroni;- fortress. It was this tliat 
suggested the Cumberland tradition told by V.'ordswoi-tli in tlic poem " The llorr. 
of Egremont Ca.stle."" 

"Scarcelv ever have I seen anytliing so fine as tlic Vale of St. .lolni," Soutliey 
exclaims ; and the \'alley of 8t. John whicli is named more tlian once in 
Scott's "Bridal of Triermaiu " is always accepted as the .same. It is in the country 
of Helvellyn, of Thirlmere, of the river Griha, and Keswick is its capital. The 
Greta, liowever, is known by sectional names, even after it issues from the mere, 
which has the distinction of being, while one of the minor lakes, tla^ highest in altitude. 
The other lakes are generally .something between JiKi and "^HK feet above sea level. 
This is over 500 feet, and its precipitous borderings here and there are in accord 
with its unusual elevation. 

The stream which has to nuike so stee|) a descent before it is received 
by the Derwent is generally spoken of as St .lolin's Beck as it trends north- 
ward through the namesake vale, Naddle Fell on tlie one side, and Great Dodd 
on the other, keeping watch and w.nd, deeply .scored; Saddleback always looming 
grindv ahead l)eyond Threlkeld, with Skiddaw as near neigliluiur. At this .stage 
tlie Glenderamakin make.s cr>njunction from th(> east, and, unit( il, the .streams 
become the (Jrcta. From Threlkeld it takes a new course, westerly to Keswick, 
and its scenery is of the highest beauty as it huriies past Latrigg, known 
as Skiddaw's Cub. fJrcta in thi.s short length of established identity is not to b(> 
denied, aw Greta Bridge, Greta Hall (llie home of Southey for forty years), ami 

The Greta.] DEHWENTWATER. 299 

Greta Bank testify. Half a mile from Keswick, over the bridge, is Crostliwaite, 
the old j^arish churrh in whose God's acre Southey was buried. 

The tourist in I>akeland will l)rinti- back his special impression of " the very 
finest view,*' according to his individual tastes and, maybe, temperament. A well- 
ordered ballot would probably, however, place at the head of the list that prospect 
— never to bv adequately described — from C'astlerigg top. For water there 
are Bass.nithwaite and Derwentwater ; for giant mountain forms, 8kiddaw and 
Saddleback ; for cloud-cai)ped and shadowv fells, tlie liighlands of Buttermere and 
Crummock, Avitli "'tlic mountains of Newlands shaping tliemselves as pavilions; the 
gorgeous confusion oi Borrowdale just revealino- its sublime chaos through the 
narrow vista of its gorge,"* as De Quincey described thcni ; and for the softer toning 
and tlio human interest, the valley of the Greta and the goodlv town of Keswick 
arc in the nearer survey. Out of town the rivt'r bi'conu's niodcratelv tranipiil, 
and enters the Derwent at tlie northernmost point of Keswick Lake or Derwent- 

Derwentwater is the oval in outline of anv of the lakes, and it has tlie 
bijou measurements of three miles in length, by a mile and a half in breadth. 
Foreshores of foliaged slopes or herbaged margins give play to an imposing 
presentment of cliff and wooded knoll, witli dark masses of fantastic mountains 
behind; the clear water is studded with small islands of varying form and bulk, 
and in its centre is St. Herbert's Isle, sacred to the memorv of a "saintly eremite" 
whose ambition it was to die at the moment when his beloved C'uthbert of Durham 
expired, so that their souls might soar heavenwards in company. After hot summers 
a phenomenal floating islet, of bog-like character and covered with vegetation, rises 
at a point about 150 yards from the shore near the far-famed waters coming do^ir 
from Lodore. Scafell is somewhat a far cry from Keswick, but one of the most 
impressively comjirehensive views of Derwentwater, as of Windermere and Wastwater 
in a lesser degi'ee, is to be obtained from the summit. 

The river Deewent, known alternatively as the Grange, rises at the head of 
Borrowdale, flows along the middle of the A^alley, and enters the lower part of the 
lake near the Falls of Lodore. Issuing from the fm'ther extremity, augmented by 
the Greta, it flows north-westwards to pay tribute to Bassenthwaitc Water, which, after 
Derwentwater and its strong featm-es of interest, is somewhat of an anti-climax; 
yet it is a fine lake some fom- miles in length, ■\^'ith woods on the Wythop 
shore, and Armathwaite Hall at its foot commanding a full view of tlie lake. The 
Derwent, renewdng its river-form on the outskirts of this wooded estate, turns to 
the west, and arrives at Cockcrmoutli, so named from the river Avhich here joins it 
from the south. 

Buttermere and Crummock Water, with Little Loweswatcr up in the high fells, 
are the western outposts of Lakeland, and they must be considered as the starting- 
point of the river Cocker. They are a small chain of themselves, equidistant, and 
in a line from south-east to north-west. Loweswater is of least account, and not 


in eao'cr request liy tourists: bat it is the moving' sj)irit of Ilolnio Force, in a wood 
beside which the explorer of the hike passes ; and the lower end, where the small 
.stream connects with Crummock Water, is not without pleasant scenery. Kirk- 
gate, about half a mile south and half-way on the connecting stream, is a favourite 
resting-point. In the illu.stration on page 2d~ the artist has eloquently described 
the river Cocker in its hill solitudes, and in its early life, when a single arch i.s 
eni>ugh to sjian its modest channel ; the plain whitewa.shed cottage in its sheltered 
nook, the straggling trees, the sheep fresh from the higher graziug.s, are very typical 
of these remote districts. 

Crummock Water, the largest of this trio, is somewhat out of the beaten track, 
but there are boats upon it, and walls of mountain rise on either side. The 
tourist irencralh' spends the time possible for the casual excursionist at Scale Force, 
on a feeder of the Cocker after it has cleared tlio lake. It is a .sheer fall of 
over a hundred feet when there is plenty of Avater. A kindred cataract ii; tlie 
neighbourhood is Sor.r ^lilk Force, the second waterfall of tliat iianio mentioned in 
this cluipter. Tiie main river, having sped through the mcics and the meadows 
that sejiarate them, i»asses through the Yale of Lorton, and enters tlie Derwent near 
the castle ruins at CtK'kermouth. The town was so inqiortant, tlirough its baronial 
fortress, of which the gateway remains, that the Roundhead troops gave it the fatal 
honour of a passing visit, and there an end of the castle, wliicli tliey promptly 
disnuintled. But Wordsworth was born here, and the garden-terrace of his home 
was by Derwent side. The railway frequently crosses the Derwent between Cocker- 
mouth and Workington, keeping it on the whole close company through a generally 
level and ordinary country. Workington is in these days a prosperous seaport ; yet 
we not forget that Mary Queen of Scots landed here on a May day in 1.368, 
and Wordsworth tells us how — 

'• Witli step prelusive to :i lung arniy 
Of woes and degradations hand in liand — 
Weeping captivity and shuddering fear 
Stilled by the ensanguined block of Fotheringay." 


Photo: II'. •/. Mil. 



The Firth— A Swift Tide. The Eden : The Eamont— Eden Hall— Armathwaite— John Skelton— Wetheral and C'orhy 
Castle — The Caldew and the Petteril — Greystoke Castle — Carlisle, its Eomance and History — Seri-a Factum — "Kin- 
mont Willie " and " hauld Buccleueh " — Executions of Jacobites — The Carlisle of To-day. The Sakk : Gretna Green. 
The LiDDEL — Hermitage AVater and Castle. The Esk : The Tarras — Gilnockie Tower — Carlenrig and Johnnie 
AiTiistrong — Young Lochinvar — Ivirtle Water and its Tragic Story. The Annan : The Land of the Bruces — Thomas 
C'arlyle. The Xith : Dumfries — Burns's Grave — Robert Bruce and the Bed Cumj-n — Drumlanrig and Caerlaverock 
Castles— The Caim and its Associations — The Isew Abbey Pow and Sweetheart Abbey. The Dee: Douglas 
Tongueland — Threave Castle. The Ckee : Newton Stewart — The " Cruives of Cree." The Bladenoch : The AVig- 
town Mart^TS . 

T is some years since we last saw the Sulway Firth, but we 

/ well remember the long stretch of naked sand so quickly 

covered by the galloping tide, and the giant shape of 

Criffcll guarding the whole expanse of water from out 

AvhicJi it appeared to rise, so that the prophecy ascribed 

to Thomas the Ehymer, " In the evil day coming safety 

shall nowhere be fomid except atween Criffell and the sea," 

seemed in truth a hard saying. Our abode Avas a solitary 

liouse on the northern bank, and, save for the wild ebb and 

flow of the Avaters, all was peace. On the right Avas the open 

sea, not much ploughed of passing keel : straight across was the 

indented Cumberland shore, Avell tended and fertde, but not more 



[SoLWAY Firth. 

SO than the inland fi-nm our cottaye. lluw |)lainly it comes back as one takes up 

the pen I 

" Rank-sweliing Annan, Lid with curled streams, 
Tlie Esks, tlie Solway where they lose their names " : 

SO sings (plaint and cnurtlv Drunnudnd of Haw tliornden. It is before these and 
the other Sohva\- tributaries " h)se tlieir luunes " tliat we wisli to write of them, 
touch on their beautv, and repeat again sonu' of tlic ]m\\v tales, weird traditions, 
and choice songs tliat liallnw tlieir tields. And iirst as Xn the Firth itself. The 
Sohvav opens sd rapitUx <iii tlie sea that it is luird to draw the line be', ween it 
and the ocean. AVe shall not try. The Cumberland side falls rapidly off, and 
presents a larger coast to the ojieii water. Its rivers are not numerous, liut in the 
Eden it possesses one of great interest and importance. The coastdine of the tliree 
counties of Dumfries, Kirkcudbriglit, and Wigtown forms the northern shore. It 
has nuiiiv strt'aiiis. AVe do not go lievond the Cree, which runs into AVigtown 
Ba\-, and of which wc> shall count the Bladenoch a tril)utary. 

The Solwav is noted all the world over for its swift tide: ''Love flows like 
the Solwav. but ebbs like its tide.'" savs Scott in one of his bestdciiown lines. 
A spring-tide, ui-ged bv a lireeze from the .south-west, .s])eeds along at a rate 
of ten miles an hour. A tleep, hoarse roar is heard twenty miles away, a 
swirling mist glittering with a number of small rainbows is seen on the sea, a 
huge Avavc of foam comes into sight, and this resolves itself into a volume of water 
six feet high — the vanguard of tlie ocean itself, which follows, a ureat mass in 
violent perturbation. The Solway near Annan is crossed b)- a long railway liridge. 
Some years ago this bridsing of the Firth was considered a remarkable engineering- 
feat, but now that you rattle in exjiress trains over the Tay and the Forth, 

the Solway viaduct seems a vi'rv 
trumpery affair. In the old daxs, 
when communication was slow and 
costlv, and when, maylje, folk were 
bolder, how strong the teinjitatioii 
to make a dash for it across the 
sand I And yet how dangerous ! 
Dense fogs would arise of a sud- 
den, quicksands abounded, and had 
a nasty trick of shifting tlieir place 
ever and anon. How easy to mis- 
calculate time or distance I Imagine 
the feeling of the niil'oitiniate tra- 
veller, inid\va\' across, wlieii there 
fell on liis ear the sullen roar 
of the advancing tide I i''atal ac- 
cidents were frecpieiit, especiall}' 


The Eden-.] EDEN HALL. 303 

to those returning from Cumberland fail's -with their brains heated and theii" 
judgment confused by hours of rustic dissipation. You remember the graphic 
account in '' Redgauntlct " of Darsie Latimer's mishap on the northern shore, and 
his rescue by the Laird of the Lakes on his great Hack steed. Scott in his 
novel gives a vivid account of the salmon-fishing on the Sohvay: how horse- 
men with barbed spears dashed at full gallop into the receding tide, and speared 
the fish with wondrous skill. This picturesc^ue mode is long out of date, and 
stake nets, which, when the tide is out, stretch like huge serpents over the sand, 
are now the principal engines of eaptiu-e. The Solway has somewhat dwindled 
of late epochs ; geologists report it as receding seaward at the rate of a mile a 
century, which is lightning speed for that species of alteration — but 'twas ever a 
hasty Firth! 

The Edex is our first river. During its course of thirty-five miles it has much 
variety of pleasant scenery ; whereof let Wordsworth tell : — 

"EJeu! till now thy beauty had I viewed 
By glimpses only, and confess with shame 
That verse of mine, whate'er its vai'ying mood. 
Repeats but once the sound of thy sweet name : 
Yet fetched from Paradise, that honour came, 
Rightfully borne ; for Xature gives thee flowers 
That have no rival among British bowers. 
And thy bold rocks ara worthv of their fame." 

It rises in the backbone of England, on the borders of "Westmorland, in York- 
shire. \\'e do not loiter in the long street of Kirkby Stephen, or dilate on the 
many antiquities of Appleby, though in its Westmorland course it flows by both 
places. On the Cumberland border it is joined Ijv the Eamont, which rises nine 
miles off in romantic Ullswater — a lake renowned for the remarkable combination 
of savage and cultivated scenerv on its borders. A mile or two further, and 
the Eden ^inds through a noble park, wherein stands Eden Hall. Here, since 
the time of Henry VI., have lived the "martial and warlike family of the Mus- 
graves," as Camden calls them. They acquii'ed the estate by marriage from the 
heirs of one Kobcrt Turpe, who had it under Henry III. ; and how far back Ms 
ancestors go — why, 'twould gravel the College of Heralds themselves to tell ! Thus 
Eden Hall has been held by the same race from time immemorial. Not this alone 
has made the family famous, but the possession of a famous goblet, called '' The 
Luck of the Musgraves,'' which they got, so the story goes, in this fashion. There 
stood in the garden St. Cuthbert's Well, of the most exquisite spring water. Hither 
repaired the Seneschal ("butler" some prosaically dub him; but the other sounds 
much finer, and is at least as accurate) to replenish his vessels. 'Twas a fine summer 
evening, and he found the green crowded ^^'ith fairies, dancing and flirting " and 
carrying on most outrageous," quite forgetting they had left their magic glass on the 
brink of the well. The Seneschal promptly impounded it, as a waif and stray, for 



the benefit of the lord of the manor. The fairies implored and threatened in vain, 
and at length they vanislied, uttering the prophecy — 

"If that glass either break or fall, 
Farewell the luck of Eden Hall." 

How to doiibt this story when the goblet is there to speak for itself ? It is of 
green-coloured glass, ornamented with foliage and enamelled in different colours. 

J rilh it- Cv., lUhjaU. 


Spite of all, some affirm it a church vessel of the fourteenth or fifteenth century, and 
hint that it came into the family in a more commonplace if equally high-handed 
way. How far tlu' fame of that goblet has travelled ! Uliland, the German poet, 
makes it the theme of a romantic ballad Avhose spirit Longfellow's rendering 
admirably preserves. It tells how young ]\Iusgravc Avantonly smashed tlic goblet, 
awd how instant ruin fell mi liim and bis liouse. All poetic licence! The Musgraves 
are .<till lords of Eden Hall. 

Ten miles further down the stream we come to .Vniuitliwaite. The castle 
thereof is a plain (jld tower modernised. Its charm lies in the surioundings. There 
is a fine wooded walk liy the river, which swirls round a huge crag. Above the 
weir the stream swells out into a lake. The Aveir itself is some four }-ards high 
and twenty long; its slope does not appnjach llif pcrpcndicuUir ; anil tliough the 

The Edex.] 



Eden must needs fall orci- it, it does so with a r.-entlc grace quite in keeping with 
its character. The place has its musty records; William Rnfus built a mill here. 


Here, too, the Benedic- 
tines had a religious 
house ; but Avhat pleas- 
ant spot in England is 
without its religious 
house y The ancient 
family of Skelton held 
the castle from the davs 
of the second Richard ; 
and here most probably 
John Skelton, the poet 
— the best known, if 
not most reputable, 
member of the race — 
Avas born aljout 1401. He took holy orders, and was rector 
of Diss, in Norfolk, but lost this and other appointments — 

from his improper conduct, said his superiors — rather you fancy from his mad 
wit, wliicli lampooned everything and everybody. Three things he held in special 
horror: the mendicant friars, Lilly the grammarian, and Cardinal Wolsey. And 
he found vulnerable points in the red robe of the cardinal. ''Why dime ye not 
to Com-t ■? " is a bitter, brutal, yet brilliant invective against the great statesman. 
He taunts the Enulish nobility that thev dared not move — 


306 INVERS OF GREAT BRIFAIlsr. [Thk Eden-. 

" For dreail of tlia mastiff cur, 
For dread of the butcher's dog 
Worrying lliem like a hog." 

Xo doubt Wolsov'-s father /ras a butcher, but his Eminence scarce cared to have 
his meniorv joirired on the matter; no doubt the Enirlisli nobles /rcrr afraid of the 
gi-eat prelate, but they uould rather not be told so. Thus, when vengeance 
threatened, Skelton found none to take his part. Witli a mocking- grin, you fancy, 
invoking the protection of the very Church he had di.sgraccd, he took sanctuary at 
"Westminster, whence not even Wolsey dared drag him forth. Here he is said to 
have amused him.self in inditing certain "]\Ierrie Tales," accounts, it Avould seem, of 
his own adventures. 

We must find room for one of these stories from his student days. He had 
made merry at Al)ingdon, near Oxford, where he had eaten " salte meates." 
Returned to Oxford, he " dyd lye in an ine mimed the ' Tabere.' " At midnight 
he awoke with a consunung thirst; he called in succession on the '' tappestere" 
(the quaint media>val term for a barmaid), "hys oste, hys ostesse, and osteler," but 
none would give him ear— po.ssibly the poet lacked regularity in his payments. 
'•'Alacke,' sayd Skelton, I .sliall perysh for lacks of drynke: what remedye 1 ' " 
He soon found one: he bellowed '' fyer, fyer, fyer," so long and so loud that 
presently the whole house was up and scurrying hither and thither in I'xcitement 
and alarm. Finding notlung, they finally asked the poet where the tire was? 
The mad rogue, pointing to his open mouth and jjarclied tongue, implored, 
" fetch me some drynke to quench the fyer and the heate and the driness in my 
mouthe." Our forefathers dearly loved a joke even at tlieir own exiiense. The 
hone-st folk of the " Tabere" were amused rather than enraged, ^line host produced 
him of his best, and at length even Skelton's thirst was quenched. Yet this nuul- 
cap was a man of genius. Erasmus spoke of him to Henry VIII. as " Brihomicuntm 
Utrrarum deem ct lumen'''' \ and if you can endure the obsolete and (one must add) the 
coarse expressions, you will find in "The Tunnyng of Elynour Running'' the most 
remarkable picture in existence of low life in late medieval England. 

]5ut let us return to the Eden, which now enters the parish of Wethcral. Not 
far from Wetheral Bridge the riverside is precipitous. Here, cut in tlie face of the 
rock, forty feet above the water level, are three curious cells known as " Wetheral 
Safeguards." Tradition affirms that St. Constantine, ycnuiger son of an early 
Scots king, having excavated them AN-ith his own hands, lived therein the jjious 
life of a liermit. To him was dedicated Wetheral Priory, whereof a mouldering 
gateway alone survives the havoc of well-nigh a thousand years. The choicest of 
Eden scenery is in this There is C'otehill, with its sweet i)astoral aspect; 
Cotehill Lsland, fringed with trees, whose low-lying branches continually sway to 
and fro '\\\ the stream; and lirackcMiljank, Avherefrom you licst catch tlu' prominent 
features <»f the surrounding c(nmtry. We think the pencil gives the aspect of such 
places better than the ])en, .so we refer to our illustrations, and move ou to Corby 

The Petteril] COBBY CASTLE. 307 

Castle in the same parish, which tops a precipitous clifS overhanging the river. 
From it you see far along the richly wooded banks. Do you wonder that it "has 
been a gentleman's seat since the Conquest " ? And yet, not to be disdained of the 
most fastidious modern, for " the front of Corby House is of considerable length 
and consists of a suite of genteel apartments." And those delightful walks through 
the woods I There among the trees by the edge of the stream is the Long Walk, 
best of all. The reflection of the moon in the water on a calm summer evenino- 
is nnicli admired by amorous couples, who cainiot understand, however, why the 
Walk is called Long. If those same couples go up the winding stairway cut in the 
rock, they will be chagrined to find that, despite its wildly picturesque appearance, 
it leads to nothing more romantic than a boathouse ! Years ago some ino-enious 
wit carved choice quotations from the poets on the rocks and trees, and the name 
of the river suggested many passages from j\Iilton's account of Eden in " Paradise 
Lost"; but the quotations were not appreciated by the rustics, who joyed in defacin<>- 
them. Edward 11. gave the place to the Salkeld family, but it has long been in 
the possession of the Howards. In ^Yetheral Church, among many other monu- 
ments, is a touching one to the lady of the house, commemorated b)- Wordsworth 
in the perfect lines beginning — 

" Stretclied on the dyina; mother's lap lies dead 
Her iiew-bor)i balje; dire ending of bright liope ! " 

We hare now followed the Eden's course to Carlisle ; there it is joined by 
two tributaries, the Caldew and the Petteril, each of some importance. The Caldew 
rises on the eastern slope of Skiddaw. Both it and its affluent, the Caldbeck, flow 
through the romantic scenery of the Fells, and dash at quite a headlong pace 
down steep declines, whereof Howk Fall is the most renowned. At Holt Close 
Bridge the Caldew deserts the light of day altogether, but after four miles of 
subterranean Avindings it "comes up smiling" (as one might say) at Spout's Dub. 
The Petteril comes from two headstreams in Greystoke Park and by Pen- 
i-uddock, and has a course of some twenty miles through pleasant woodland and 
meadoAV scenery. Near the Westmorland border, on a steej) eminence by its first 
headwater, stands Greystoke Ca.stle. The old castle was, during the Civil Wars 
in 1648, taken by Lambert for the Parliament, and bm-ned to the ground. The 
remains of the battery he threw up are still call " Cromwell's Holes." This place 
has long been in the possession of the Howards. Tlie castle was Avidely 
famed for its collection of curiosities, more or less authentic. Thus, there Avere " a 
large white hat," said to have covered no less a head than Thomas Becket's; and 
a picture of silk embroidery representing the Crucifixion, Avorked by the royal 
hands of Mary Queen of Scots. A fire in 1868 played sad havoc among these 
oddities ; but you may still admii-e the great park with its deer and its ponds, and the 
cliarming prospects of the Lake mountains Avdiich you have from the castle windows. 

And noAV we are in Carlisle tOAvn — to-day a thriving, Avell-built, but, after all, 



[The EnEX. 

not very remarkable place. Here as elsewhere, romance lias fled, and prosaic 
comfort takes its place. "' Merrie Carlisle" the ballads call it. Do vou wonder 
why y It was in the very centre nf border warfare : some eiirht miles n<irtli lav the 


{p. 306). 

Debatable Land — for 
centuries a bone of con- 
tention between .Scots 
and English. In fre- 
(juent incm-sions the 
Xortliman wasted the countrv far and 
near, and the Avarder. as he lof)ked from 
the Scots Gate— so they termed the northern ])ort of 
the citadel — could see robber bands movino: here and 
there, and note the country round dotted with fire 
and smoke ; but against t]u> .stron<r walls of Carlisle 
Ca.stle they dashed themselves in vain. Here was a secure haven of refuge — hei'e 
at least was peace and comfort, Avhatever red ruin wasted either border ; nav, the 
town throve on the ver\' disorder ; an the bullocks and horses were cheap and good, 
what need to incjuire too curioasly whence tliey <ame ? Far better to get and 
jiart with theiu quickly and (juietly and jirofitably. Even if the seller was a Scot, 
come there in time of truce, .so nnicli more reason to make a ])rofit out of him. 
And then the mercliants had everything to sell, from .strong waters to trinkets; .so 
it was strantjf if tlio gentlcmau took much away with him. A "merrie" 


The Ede.v.] 



town, in truth I In flowinu' line 
place and its historv : — 

Lvdia Si""()iiniov lias admirahlv touched ofp the 

" Ho^v fair amid the rlepth of suniiner green 

Spread forth thy walls, Carlisle ! Thj- castled heights 

Ahrupt and lofty ; thy cathedral dome 

iVIajestic and alone ; thy beauteous bridge 
t^paiining the EJen. 

" Old Time hath hung upon tliy 

misty walls 
Legends of festal and of warlike 

deeds, — 
King Arthur's wassail-cup : the 

Of the wild Danish sea-kings ; 

the fierce beak 
Of Rome's victorious eagle : 

Pictish spear 
And Scottish claymore in con- 
fusion mixed 
With England's clothyard ar 


Some of these legends are hut 
half told or half simg. One 
scarcelv coherent, yet weii'd 
and powerful, ballad suggest* 
an ancient, and but for it 
forgotten, tragedy : — 

" She's howket a grave by the 

light o' the moon. 
The sun shines fair on Carlisle 

wa' ; 
And there she's buried her 

sweet babe in, 
And the lyon shall be lord 

of a' ! " 

"We turn to the authentic, 
but scarce less tragic or 
romantic, history to present 
three pictures from Carlisle's 
past. Edward I. in his 
last Scots expedition halted 

here. The country on whose conquest he had lavished blood and treasure for twenty 
years, which he had gromid under his heel again and again, had revolted yet again 
with a purpose as fell as his own. When knighting the Prince of Wales, he had 
given a great banquet, wherein two swans were iiitroducedj "richly adorned with 



gold network." On these he had made liis son swear thot fantastic yet terrible vow 
to God and the swans (in accordance with the etiquette of ehivalrv), that if he 
died leaving Scotland unconquered. his son would boil his flesh from liis bones 
and carry tliese with him to war against the rebels. The king, tliough stricken 
with mortal sickness, was carried north as far as Carlisle in a horsi'litter. Here 
he pretended himself recovered, hung his litter in the cathedral as an offering, 
and, vdtXi terrible resolve, mounting his horse, moved onwards for a few miles. 
Near where the Eden loses itself in the sands of the Solway, at the little village 
of Burgh-on-the .Sands, his strengtli comj)letely gave way. His dyiiiu" eyes looked 
across the waters of the Solway on the land wliicli lie liad coikjuciciI so often in 
vain, and here the fierce old man made liis son renew liis solemn oath, and soon all 
was over. 

The new monarch was a man of softer mould. Turning witli a shudder from 
the, he hurried back to the pleasures of London. (to to-day to Westminster 
Abbey, and read the inscription on the old king's touib : '^ Ediiardus Primus Scofontiu 
viallcus hie est 1308 pactum scrvaP Dean Stanley thinks tlie last two words merely 
a moral maxim ; others have more reasonably taken it as a reminder to the son to 
keeji his promise. ^Moreover, it was provided that " once every two years the tomb 
was to be opened, and the wax of the king's cerecloth renewed " ; as if Edward 
even in death had .some work to do. The son, no doubt, meant some day or other 
to fulfil his promise ; but the day never dawned, and the voice from the grave spoke 
in vain. 

Our next jncture is from tlie davs of Good Queen Bess. In tlio year l.JUO 
there was jjeace between England and Scotland, but that diil not jJicvcnt a Utile 
private nuirauding on the Borders. It was custonuiry for tlie warilcns on either 
side to hold com-ts, and there settle their differences. William Armstrong, of Kin- 
mont — to be known to all time as " Kiimioiit Willie" — a famous Scots freebooter, was 
present at one of these courts. When it was over he rode away with some friends 
along the north bank of the Liddel, scornfully heedless of the angry looks of certain 
Englishmen, who had (you guess) lately suffered from his depredations. By Bcuder 
law there was truce till the next sunrise ; but the sight of Kinmont so sh'iiderly 
guarded was too much for his southern foes. A troop of two hundred jiursued and 
caught him after a h^iig chase, and so our bold freebooter was laid safely by the 
heels in a strong diuigeon in Carlisle Castle. The feelings with which Scott of 
Bucdeuch, keeper of Liddesdale, received news of this are vii;drously described 
ill the old ballad: — 

"He liii.s taVn the tiible, \vi' liis liaiid 
He giirr'fl tlie red wine spring on hie ; 
' Now, Christ's curse on my head,' he s.aid, 
' ]jut avenged of Lord Scrope I'll be.'" 

Ihicdeuch, having urged the of Kinmont Willie in vain, determined to 
free him by force. At Morton Tower, in the Debatable Latul, he collected one 


evening before sunset a chosen band of followers witli sealing ladders and pickaxes. 

Through the darkness of a misty and stormy night they forded in succession the 

Esk and the Eden, and halted under the wall of Carlisle two hours before daybreak. 

Bursting in the postern, and overpowering the sentinels, tliev made such a ferocious din 

with tongue and trumpet tliat the garrison, thinking all the wild men of the Border 

had got into the town, prudently shut themselves up in the Keep, and then — 

" Wi' cnulters, and witli foreliaminers, 
^^'e garr'd the bars bang nierrilie, 
Until we came to tlie inner prison, 
M'lit're Willie o' Kinmont he did lie." 

The prisoner was soon rescued ; and there being no time to knock off his irons, 
he was mounted on the shoulders of '' Red Rowan," described as "the starkest man 
in Teviotdale.'' Some attempt was made to prevent the escape ; but the night con- 
tinuing dark, the bold band got away, and a Avild gallop brought them safe to the 
Scots Ijorder two hours after daybreak. Kinmont humoroush' complaining of his 
steed and his spurs, as he playfully termed his irons, the company halted at a 
smith's cottage in their own country, and demanded his services. The smith seemed 
loth to rise so early, whereupon Buccleuch, playfully thrusting his lance through 
the window, speedily had him wide awake. This stroke of humour was highly 
appreciated on the Border — was considered quite side-splitting, in fact — but history' 
has failed to record the smith's observations on the incident. The " bauld 
Buccleuch " himself never did a Ijolder deed, but Elizabeth was furious. In October, 
1597, he Avas sent to the English court to make what excuse he might to the 
Queen, who, in one of her Tudor tempers, angrily demanded "how he dared to 
undertake an enterprise so desperate and presumptuous." " What is there that a 
man dares not do ? " was the answer, surely in fit keeping with the tradition of 
boldness. Elizabeth turned to her courtiers: "With ten thousand such men our 
brother of Scotland might shake the firmest throne in Europe ! " and so Buccleuch 
departed in peace. 

Our last picture is from the days after the Jacobite rising of 1745. A great 
many of the trials of the Scots rebels took place at Carlisle, and, as one can imder- 
stand, the accused had but short shrift. " We shall not be tried by a Cumberland 
jury in the next world ! " was the comforting reflection of one of the jM'isoners. A 
long series of executions, with all the terrible rites practised on traitors, took place 
on Gallows Hill, and the heads of these poor Jacobites were planted over Carlisle 
gates as a warning. A ballad of deepest pathos tells the fate of one unfortunate : — 

" White was the rose in his gay bonnet, 

As he faulded me in his brooched plaidie ; 
His hand, which clasped the truth o' luve, 
Oh, it was aye in battle readie ! 

"His lang, lang hair in yellow hanks 

AVaved o'er his cheeks sae sweet and ruddie, 
But now they wave o'er Carlisle yetts, 
In dripping ringlets, clotting bloodie." 



[Thf. Sauk. 

lliola: Frith <t Co., IkhjuU. 


Not all inorrie are the vecord.s of Carlisle I And to-dav vou will iiud the castle 
lias suffered change. You enter through an ancient gateway, and there is still the 
portcullis adorned with a sadlv hattered ])ic'ce of scidpture. Unsightly barracks. 
and so forth, cumber the outer ward. The half-moon battery is dismantled, 
and the great keep is now used as an annourv. You turn to the cathedral, and 
there, spite of many alterations and more or less judicious restoration, there is 
much to admu-e. We can but mention the splendid central window at the east end 
of the choir, the graceful arcades below the windows of the side aisles, and the 
carved oakwork of the stalls. 

At the head of the Solway Firth the Sark, a small river, or rather "burn," 
which in a dry smnmer well-nigh vanishes, divides the two kingdoms. On the 
Scots side the iirst village on the road is Gretna (ireen, famed for just over a 
century of its irregular marriages. Here we might take leave of England 
were it not that our next two river.s, the Esk and the Liddcl, Scots for most of 
their course and rising at very different points, finally meet and pass into 
Cumberland, whence they tlmv into the Solway Firth ; the Esk havinii' niade a 
complete circuit round the Sark. The Debatable Land already nuMitioned was the 
piece of gi-ouml between the Solway ami the junction of the two streams, of each 
of which we mast now speak. 

The Liddel.I 



The LiDDKL rises in a oTeat morass in Roxljurg'hslure called Deadwater. For 
some ten miles it is a wild mountain stream, flowing dark and sullen through a 
rocky glen, hut as it reaches lower ground the glen widens and softens into 
a beautiful valley with trees and tine pasture land, whilst lower still are fertile 
fields. The Liddel has many tributaries, whereof we will only mention Hermitage 
Water, near the source. It is a wild mountain stream, and at its wildest part, 
amidst morasses and bare desolate mountains, stand the ruins of grim old Hermitage 
Castle, with its thick towers and walls and rare narrow windows. See it on some 
gloomy Xovember day, Avhen the storm spirit is abroad, and it stands the very 
abomination of desolation I Turn to its history, and the gloom grows ever darker; 
for 'tis little but a record of cruel deeds. Tliis is one of the oldest baronial 
buildings in Scotland. Sir William Douglas, the "Knight of Liddesdale " and 
" Flower of Chivalry," took the place in 1338 from the English. You wonder at 
his name I Four years later he woimded and seized at Hawick Sii' Alexander 
Eamsav, Sheriff of Teviotdale, of whose appointment he was jealous, and, throw- 
ing hini into a deep dungeon at Hermitage, left him to starve. A few chance 
droppings from the granary protracted his miserable existence through seventeen 
awful davs. His captors, hearing his gi'oans, at length took him out and gave him 
— not bread, but a priest, in whose arms Ramsay expired ! The '" Flower of 
Chivalry "' was finally slain Ijy the Earl of Douglas, head of his house, whilst 



limiting in Ettrick Forest. It was whispered the Earl had discovered tliat his 
Countess entertained a guilty passion for the murdered man. A rude old ballad 
represents her as coming out of her bower when .she heard of the crime, and pro- 
claiming ]ior own shame — 

" And loudly there she did ca'. 

It is for the Loixl of Liddesdale 
That I let all these tears doune fa'." 

Ill October, 1566, Botlnvcll liad gone to tlio JJorders as Warden of the 
Slarshes, to jirepare for a court wliich 'Slary Queen of Scots was about to hold at 
Jedburgh for the trial of freebooters. He was Avoundcd by Elliott of the Park, 
known as " Little Jock Elliott,'' and lay dangerously ill at Hermitage. The 
infatuated ^lary, scantily attended, dashed over from Jedbm-gh tlirough the wildest 
and most dangerous territory (what a prize for a freebooter !), spent two hours by 
Bothwell's bedside " to his great pleasure and content," and then dashed as madly 
back again. Who shall dare to guess the secret of that meeting"? Seven months 
earlier was Rizzio's murder, four montlis later was Darnley's — the great tragedy of 
Clary's life. The question of her guilt is still oj^en, but no one doubts Botliwells. 
Some dark hint of his perhaps caused the torture of mind Avhich men noted in her 
after the visit. She was immediately stricken down witli a fever of ten davs' 
duration, and for some time her life was despaired of. But let us awav from this 
sad old ruin among those far-off gloomy mountains. 

The Liddel is, after all, but a tributary <if tlie Ksic. Tliore are several rivers 
of that name in Britain, Avhich fact will imt surprise ynu wlion vou remember that 
Esk is Celtic for " water." Its scenery has the characteristic features of all these 
Border streams : wild hills, liare save for a fringe of heatlier at tlie source : then 
richly wooded meadows, witli fertile tields in the lower reaches. The Esk and 
its tributaries are much ^'^''^i'^^^ of anglers; nowhere will you tind better 
salmon-fishing. Three miles below Langholm, on the left bank, tlie Tairas falls 
into the Esk. Its narrow channel is broken by huge ma.sses of rock over wliich 
the water foams and swirls in wild fury. A strange old rhyme ever rings in uur 
ears when we think of its passionate rush — 

" Was necr ane drowned in Tan-as, nor yet in doubt, 
For e'er the he;ul can win doun tlie harns are out," — • 

which means that Tarras never drowned anybody who fell in, for the excellent 
reason that liefore his head touched the bottom, the current and the rocks, between 
them, knocked out his brains I Is there not a tragic power about this snarling 
couplet? Indeed, those pithy iiojuilar rhymes will well icjiav attention. Xow]ien> 
else is so much .said in so few words; each is, in truth, the distillcil essence^ 
<»f a poem. 

The Tarras divides Langhohii from ( 'anonljie parisli, wherein once stood, in a 

The Esk.] 



position of great natural strength, washed on three sides by the Esk, Gihiockie 
Tower. Johnnie Armstrong, the famous Border freebooter, took his title from this 
place, whereof not a stone remains. A little higher np the river is Hollows Tower, 
also a nest of this bird of prey. Johnnie was siunmoned to appear before James V. 
when that monarch made a Border tour in 1539 to administer justice. Getting 
himself up in the most magniiicent ap^^arel, and with an easy mind and a clear 
conscience, he, accompanied by many of his name, whereof " 111 Will Armstrong" is 
specially noted, set forth to meet the king. On Langholm Holm, according to the 
Chronicle, ''they ran their horse and brak their spears when the ladies lookit fx'ae 
theii" lofty windows, saying, ' God send our men well back again.' " The fair 
dames' anxieties were well founded, for Johnnie's reception was scarce as cordial as 
he expected. " What wants yon knave that a king should have?" exclaimed James 
in angry amazement, as he ordered off Gilnockie and his companions to instant 
execution. The culprit's petition for grace was sternly refused. '' Had I known, 
I'd have lived npon tire Borders in spite of King Harry and you both," said Johnnie 
as they led him away. The trees whereon he and his followers were strung up 
are still shown at Carlenrig, and tradition still identifies their graves in that lonely 
churchyard. The ballads praise his honesty and lament the treachery which led to 
his end. James's was the violent act of a weak man ; it had an unroyal touch of 
trickery ; and no good results followed. 

Of another romantic character it is written that he " swam the Esk river where 
ford there was none" — that, of course, was young Lochinvar, who ''came out of the 
west" to ran off ^itli a fair daughter of Nethcrb}; Hall. The " west" in this case 
is a lake in Dairy parish, in Kirkcudbrightshire, containing an island which still has 
remains of the castle of the Gordons, knights of Lochinvar, one of whom was the 
hero of Lady Heron's song in " ]\Iarmion." Netherby is away by the Debatable Land, 
and Canobie Lee (perhaps) in the Dumfriesshii-e parish of Canonbie ; but how idle 
to localise the incidents of 
the splendid ballad ' Scott 
himself never toucned the 
romantic note vriih truer 
hand or to better purpose — 

" And now am I come, witli 
this lost love of mine, 
To lead but one measure, drink 
one cup of wine." 

And then we know how the 

" . . looked down to blush 
and looked up to sigh, 
With a smile on her lips, and 
a tear in her eye." 





And lu»\v tlioy danced a nieasiu'e, and how the cliar<ior stood near l)y tlie hall door^ 
and "twas Init tho -work of an instant to swing the lady on its back, and so light lo 
the saddle before her he sprung: — 

" '■ She is won ! We are gone over bank, busb, and scaur ; 
They'll have fleet steeds that follow,' said young Lochinvar." 

And the delightful couple auain fade away into the '' rieh heart of the west." 

There is no end to tliose btdlads and traditions I 'Flic very streams in theLr 


How .seem to murmur of tlicin. I!ut few can find place here; yet how can we pass 
from Eskdale and leave untouclu'd its sweetest spot, its most tragic stor\-, its most 
jKitlictic song? Kirtle Water, after a short course of a little over sixteen niilcvs, viius 
into the Solway at Kirtle Foot, near tlie head of the Firth. In tln^ ])ari.sli of 
Kirkpati-ick-Fleminj>- it passes through " fair Kirkconnel Lee," where, in the church- 
yard of Kiikcoiinc], >1(()) tlie ashes of Helen and her lover. According to the 
well-known tradition, she was loved by Fleming of Kedhall and Hell of Hlacki-t. 
The latter was not the favoured one, and Ijasely tried to .slav Fleming. Helen 
flirew herself in the path of the murderer's bullet, and perished to save her fri(Mul. 
Fleming did sj)eedy justice on his ci-uel Ibe, wandered in lar lands ibr man\- years, 

The Axnmx Watkr.] 



and retm-ned to die and ho luu'iod in the same fjravc with the love of his yotith. 
(Jf the ancestral ti:)wer of the Heniino-s not a fragment is left ; and Dryasdust still 
dully debates the exact measure of historic truth in the story. Some great but 
uukno"mi poet long ago moulded the joassionate complaint of Fleming into imperish- 
able verse, ^ith its mournful refrain : — 

" T wish I were where Helen lies, 
Night and day on me she cries ; 
O that I were where Helen lies, 
On fair Kirkconnel Lee ! " 

Annandale is tlie second division of Dumfries. An\a\ means in Celtic " quiet 
water''; perhaps that river was called so in fear, ti> propitiate the water-sprite, as 


malignant fairies were dubbed "the good people" to ward off their anger. Allan 
Cunningham lauds it as the " Silver Annan," but none the less he has some hard 
words for it : — ■ 

" The cushat, hark, a tale of woe 
Is to its true love telling ; 
And Annan stream in drowning wrath 
Is through the gi'eenwood swelling." 

318 nrvEus nr gueat britatx. [annan- wateu. 

And the old ballad of '•Aunaii Water" calls it a " drumlic river," and tells a most 
nielancholious tale of a lover and his steed drowned whilst attempting to cross it to 
keep trvst with his love, Annie, who, we are assm-ed, was ''wondrous l)onnv/' The 
last vei-se warns the river that a bridge will jDrescntly be thrown over, that " ve 
nae mair true love may sever '' : the prosaic pm-poses of transit to kirk or market 
being, of course, quite unworthy of a minstrel's menticm. Wt>ll I Annan has its 
moods — quiet and gentle in the pleasant summer days, given to \iolent outbursts in 
time of spate. 

Annandale was the home of Bruce, and the great Robert is sujiposed to 
have been born at Lochmaben, which, situated on seven lochs, is a sort of 
Caledonian Venice. Bruce, not unmindful of the place of his nativity, is famed 
to have created it a royal burgh soon after his sword won him the crown. Tliis 
did not prevent the citizens from treating through many generations his anc(\stral 
castle as a common quarry, and nothing is now left but a shapeless mass of stones. 
According to old Bellenden, in his translation of Boace (loGG), the people of former 
times Avere a terrible lot; the women worst of all! ''The wyvis usit to slay tliair 
husbandis, quhen they wer found cowartis, or discomfit be thair ennymes, to give 
occasi(in to otherls to be more bald and hardy quhen danger occurrit." " To learn 
them for their tricks," as Bums might hav(> remarked. AniuiiRlale's most famous 
modern son was Thonuis Carlyle, who, as everybody knows, was born at Ecclefechan 
in 179.5, and was buried there at the end of his long career on a " cloudv, sleotv 
day" early in 1881. Ecclefechan is on the Main Water, a tril)utarv of the Annan: 
you will find it deseri))ed in ''Sartor Rcsartus" as Kntepfulil. ^lanv s])()ts aiound 
arc connected with his lite or woi-ks. IToddam Kii'k, his jiarisli cliurcli, lie jioiiited 
out to Emersdu in a remarkable talk as an illustration of tlie euiiiiectiou of 
histftrical events. Ilis once bosom friend, Edward Irving, was born in the town of 
Annan, ol" which Carlyle had his own memories, for here he went to school, first 
to learn, afterwards to teach. Craigeiqjuttock, Avlierc he lived for six vears, is in 
Xithsdale, the third division of Dumfries, to which we now turn. 

The Xrrii, its name-river, in its com'se of .some .seventy miles, rising in 
Ayrshire, passes through the Queen of the South, as its citizens jn-oudiv designate 
Dumfries, and, during the last ten miles of its existence, is ratlur an estuar\- 
than a river. It has many important tributaries — the Carron, with its almost 
Aljunc gorge, known as tlie ^^'allpat]l ; the l\nterkin, with its famed I'jiterkin pass, 
of old time tiic bridle-path ivom Clydesdale to Nithsdale, noted for the famous 
rescue in 1684 of a band of Covenanting pri.scmers who were lieing conveved to 
Edinburgh: the .Minniek Watei-, with its many traditions of the Hill I'olk : and 
" many mo'." 

Every variety of scenerv diversifies the banks of iliose streams, and tli(>re is 
a great ma,ss of legendary lore as to the famous men who dwelt ])y their waters; 
but one name, swallows up all the rest. How to follow the windings of the 


Nith, or tread the High Street of Dumfries, without thinking of Robert Burns? 
He sang of the streams of Nith in his choicest verse. " Flow gently, sweet Afton, 
among thy green braes " is linked with one tributary, and the song he litted to 
" Ca' the yowes to the kuowes" — most musical fragment of old Scots poetry — 
reminds of another. Among the beautiful ruins of Lincluden Abbey, surrounded 
by the defaced monuments of the great house of Douglas, he saw that ''Vision" 
which he has commemorated in so remarkable a poem. Not far off is Friars' 
Carse, where the bacchanalian contest related in "The Whistle" took place. In 
Dumfries, as an exciseman, he spent the last five years of his life. Let us find 
place for one incident of his closing days. He had gone to the little village of 
Brow, on the Solway, to try the effect of the seaside. During a visit to tlie manse, 
one of the family remarked the sun shining in his eyes and made some effort to 
adjust the blind. Burns noted it; "Thank you, my dear, for your kind atten- 
tion — but ah, let him shine! He will not shine long for me." Tliis was the end 
of June, 1796; on the twenty -first of July he was dead. "Who will be our poet 
now ? " was the quaint inquiry of an honest Dumfries burgher. Who, indeed ! 
His remains Avere buried in the churchyard of St. Michael's. " They were 
originally interred in the north corner, upon which spot a simple table-stone was 
raised to his memory ; but in 1815 his ashes were removed to a vault beneath an 
elegant mausoleum, which was erected l:)y subscription, as a tribute to his genius, 
at a cost of £1,450. This monument contains a handsome piece of marble sculp- 
ture, executed by Turnerclli, representing the genius of Scotland finding the poet 
at the plough, and throwing ' her inspiring mantle ' over him." Well meant, and 
yet — I We remember standing in the cemetery at Montmartre by the plain stone 
that bears the name, and nothing but the name, of Heine. It had a simple, a 
pathetic, dignity beyond the reach of the most cunningly carved monument. One 
thought of the "elegant mausoleum" at Dumfries, and sighed for the "simple table- 
stone" which humble but pious hands had placed as the and, still after a 
century the best, monument to Robert Burns. Do you doubt which himself had 
chosen ? 

Of the antiquities of Dumfries Ave Avill only mention its famous medieval 
bridge over the Nith, built by Devorgilla, mother of John Baliol. A remarkable 
old dame this Devorgilla! Balliol College, Oxford, Avas endowed by her liberality; 
and we shall come across another of her foundations presently. The Queen of 
the South has a long history ; its most important event is connected Avith the 
house rival to Baliol. On the 4th of February, 1306, Robert the Bruce disputing 
with the Red Cumyn in the Greyfriars' Monastery, struck and Avoundod him 
with his dagger. He burst out remorseful, exclaiming, "I fear I have slain the 
Red CuniAai." " I mak siccar," Avas the grimly pithful remark of Kirkpatrick 
of Closeburn as he rushed in, and— exit the Red Cumyn! 

Even in Scotland this district is remarkable for old castles and abbeys. Of 
these one first notes Drumlanrig Castle, in Durisdeer parish, on a drum, or long 



[Tnr XiTK. 

ridge of lull, on the right bank of the Xith. It is a huge and splendid building, 
finislied in 1(JS!) after ten years' labour, by the first Duke of Quecnsberiy, who 
spent but one night -uithin its Avails. It had splendid woods, which ohl •' (^," 
that ])icturesque rascal of the Georgian period, shamelessly depleted, for which 
he was righteously castigated by Wordsworth; his descendants have repain-d the 

rtfijuiii, Jaratu'jf'-'ii, imtixjncs. 

I.IM l.l IIKN AllllLV (y/. ol'.i). 

damage, and ]»oets and forest nymphs are at length appeased and consoled. 
The Highlanders, jiassing by here in the '4o, ainiiscd tlienisclvcs by staliliing 
the ])ortrait f>f William 111. witli thcii- clax mores. Again, there is ( "aerlaverock 
('astlc, the Kllangowan of Scott's "(luy M;innering,'' situateil (,ii the left Itank nl' the 
Xith, ju>t where it becomes part of the Solw.iy l-'irl!i. A wiM I'dinaiitii- spot ! 'Tlio 
lioiliiig tides of the .Solway and the Nith a])proach its walls; and of old time it was 
.sii hemmed by lake and as to deserve th(> name of the "Island of ( "aerlav<'roek." 
It has a long romantic history, in keepin:;- with its eiivironmeiil. it has been in 
po.s.sessif)n of the Maxwells since the l)eginning dl' the tliirleenlh eeiiturw and voii 
can still spell out their motto, "I bid yi- fair," oii Its mouldering walls. They took 
— a.s wa.s but scendy in so ancient a familv the Stuart side i)i the rising of ITlo; 
and the title of liaron Ilerries, held sinc(> 14S!), was destroyed by attaint in ITKi. 
It wa.s revived, however, in favour of W lUlam Constable Maxwell b\ various 

The Cairn.] 



Parliamontarv proceedings ending in 1858 ; then high revel was held in the long 
deserted courts of Caerlaverock, and little imagination was needed to recall the 
incidents of a long-vanished feudal day. 

It is hard to leave the Xith, so mucli is to be said on each of its tributaries. 
There is the Cairn, for instance, with its luemories of the noble family of 

J. lii.tUrjo.J, Ja.dcvj. 


Glencairn. Also it flows by Maxwellt(jn, still the seat of the Lauries, a fair scion 
of whose ancient house is celebrated in the pleasing old ditt\- known to everybody 
as '' Annie Laurie," though the song that rises in vour mind when Glencairn is 
mentioned is liurns's noble tribute to the memory of the fourteenth earl, 
ending — 

" Tlie mother may forget the babe 

That smiles sae sweetly on her knee, 
But I'll remember thee, Glencairn, 

And a' that thou liast done for nie ! " 

Even when we leave Dumfries and pass into Galloway (which consi-sts of the 
stewartry of Kirkcudbright and shire of Wigtown) we are not quite away from the 

322 Rivr:ns of great buitain. [Thk dee. 

Nith. On the right liank, nearly opposite CaeHuverock, the small stream of New 
Abbey I'ow runs into the estuaiy. Follow this a little -way up, and you come on 
the scanty but beautiful ruins of Sweetheart Al)l)i'y. The origin was as romantic as 
the name: it was founded in memory of hur husband by the Devorgilla already 
mt'ntioui'd. IIi' died in I'^GO at Barnard Castle, and was l)uried there, all save his 
heart, which his s]touse had enclosed in a ''coffyiu' of evorie," and ever at meal- 
tinu's the " coff vne " was carried in and placed beside her, and she "dyd reverens " 
to it as if it had been lier liviiii:- lord. Tlitis she existi'd for Iwentv vears, and tlu'ii 
was s2)lendidlv interred l)efore the high altar of Dulce (or, or Sweetheart Abbey, so 
called because the heart of her dead sjiousc was laid on hers. Verily, love is 
stronger than death ! 

The Dkk, chii'f river of Kirkcudbrightshire, rises in desolate Loch Dee, among 
heather-clad hills with impressive names — Laniachen, Cairngarnock, Craiglee, and so 
forth. How those Celtic words suggest of themselves a remote and desolate wilder- 
ness I Dee means "dark river," and in the early part of its iiow so sullen is its 
appearance that, with impressive tautology, it is called the "black water of Dec.' 
Some twentv miles from its source its colour is lightened by its confluence with 
the Water of Ken, and, like other Border streams, the scenery on its banks gradually 
becomes softer and richer. We have sehM-ted for illustration (p. o",*<)) a beautiful spot 
on the Dee at Douglas Tongueland. within two or three miles of the bm-gh of 
Kirkcudbright. Here the river still retains some of its early wildness, for it rushes 
foamiuLT f)ver masses of rock, but the .sceiu'ry on its banks is sweetly rural rather 
than wild and mountainous. 

Tlie most famous place on the Dee is Threave Castle, standing on an islet 
fornieil l)v the river not far from Castle Douglas. It was built by Archibald, 
called the (irim, third Earl of Douglas, and was tlie scene of one of the terril>le crimes 
which Itrought about tlie ruin of that proud house. ^^ illiani. the eiglith earl, had 
imprisoned there Maclellan, tutor (or guardian) of ISoniliit", wiio>.;e relative. Sir Patrick 
Grey, having procured an order for his release from James II., therewitli repaired 
to the ca.stle. Douglas, knowing very well what he canu> about, with jireteuded 
courtesy refused to receive any message till the guest had dined. ^^ liilst (irey 
was eating with what appetite he might, the prisoner was k'd forth and beheaded 
in the courtvard. Dinner over, fJrey produced the royal warrant, which Douglas 
read with mock ropect and consternation. Taking his guest l)y the hand ;ind 
leading him to the window overlooking the courtvard, lie showed liiiii tlie hleediiii:- "There lies y<mr sister's son," (pioih lie, "lie lacks tlie head, hiii the Imdy 
is at your service." (iicy (lissend)led his rage and grii'f till he was in tli(^ saddle, 
when, turning'" on the mockinir earl, he soleniiiK' \owed his heart's blood should 
pay for that da\'s work." "To lior>e I to liorsel" cried the enraged t\rant. The 
pursuers followed 'Iny for many a long league, nor did thev draw bridle till the 
Ca.stle-Kock of Kdinburgh loomed on the horizon. A few months after, the king 

TueCree.] "MONS MEOr 323 

stabbed Douglas at a conference at Stirling-, and Grev avenged Maclellan by killing 
the wounded man with a pole-axe. In 1455 King James besieged Threave Castle, 
which held out under James, the brother of the nnn-dered noljle. It seemed 
impossible to batter down the stronghold till an ingenious blacksmith, M'Kim of 
Mollance, constructed the enormous gun which lies to-day on the Argyle battery at 
Edinburgh Castle, and is known far and wide as " Mons Meg'' — the "Mons" being a 
corruption of Mollance, whilst Meg was M' Kim's wife. He named the gun 
after her in ironical compliment, her voice being, he said, as the cannon's, neither 
soft nor low. However, this piece was dragged with enormous labour to an eminence 
commanding Threave Castle. The charge, it is said, consisted of a peck of powder, 
and a granite ball the weight of a Carsphairn cow. The Coimtess of Douglas, 
the Fair ]\Iaid of Galloway, who had married in succession the two brothers, sat 
at table in the banqueting hall when the gun was shot off ; the ball crashing into 
the room, carried away her right hand, wherewith she was in the act of raising a 
goblet of wine to her lips. The place at once surrendered. Eooifess, but still grim 
and massive, the castle frowns amidst the peaceful surroundings of to-day. They 
" still show you the gallows knob," " a large block of granite projecting from the 
front wall immediately over the main gateway ; from here the meaner victims of 
the Earhs vengeance were suspended." Rarely did the knob want the ornament of 
a "tassel," as, with ghastly pleasantr}-, its human Inn-den was termed — nay, it is said 
that the Douglas was so averse to see the "knob" out of use, and his power of 
life and death rusting unexercised, that, did the supply of malefactors run short, he 
would string up on any en- no j^i'etext some unoffending peasant— /Jo«r encourac/cr Ics 
(lit f res, no douljt ! 

U'c now j)ass to the Cree river, which forms the boundary between 
Kirkcudljright and Wigtown, the two divisions of Galloway. It is endeared to the 
2)oets, who name it "the crystal Crec"; either the alliterative effect fascinated the 
tuneful ear, or they contrasted it with the Dee, that other Galloway river whose 
dark waters have already been described. Burns also, whose verse is linked 
Avith so much of the scenery of his native land, has not forgotten this stream. 
In pleasing numbers he sings its beauties : — 

'• Here is the glen, ajid here the bower, 
All underneath the birchen shade ; 
Tlie village-bell has told the hour, 

O, what can stay the lovely maid ? " 

The song goes on to describe the emotions of the rustic youth, who mistakes 
the whisper of the evening wind and the "warbler's dying fall" for the voice of 
tlie beloved. Weill the lady is a little late, but she keeps her appointment, after all: — 

" And art thou come ! and art thou true ! 
O welcome, dear, to love and me ! 
And let us all our vows renew, 
Along the tlowcry banks of Cree." 

The Bladexoch.i THE WIGTOWN 3IARTYRS. 325 

In truth the rivev lias inauy beautiful ])rospocts, -whereof the finest are in 
the vicinitv of Newton Stewart, the most considerable town on its banks. Wc 
have selected the river at the bridge for our illustration. The bridge is lauded 
in the "New Statistical Acconnt" as "elegant and substantial, built of granite, 
with a freestone pai'apet"; and another authority assures us that it was built 
in 1813, and cost £6,000 — all which, no doubt, you are prepared to take 
on trust, as you can scarce be expected to go to Xewtou Stewart to verify 
the facts ! 

One must not leave the river without mention of the famous " Cruives of Crce," 
to wit, " salmon-traps in the stone-cauls or dam-dykes, which, serving the country- 
folk for bridges, came to be well known landmarks." They were situate near 
Penninghame House, in the parish of Penninghame, and are commemorated in an 
ancient rhyme celebrating the power of the Kennedys : — 

" 'Twixt Wigtown and the town o' Ayr, 
Poi'tpatrick and tlie Cruives o' Cree, 
You shall not get a lodging there 
Except ye court a Kennedy." 

One more river and we have done. The Bladknocii is a small stream wliicli 
passes by the town of Wigtown, and falls into Wigtown Bay, the broad estuary 
of the Cree river. In 1085 it was the scene of the greatest of the Covenanting 
tragedies, known in history as the death of the Wigtown martyrs. Woodrow, in 
his " History of the Sufferings of the Church of Scotland," tells the story. In the 
year noted there lived in the parish of Penninghame a substantial farmer named 
Gilbert Wilson, a law-al)iding person who submitted to all the orders of the 
Government. He had three children : Gilbert sixteen, Margaret eighteen, and 
Agnes thirteen years of age. These, unlike their parents, would "by no means 
conform or hear the Episcopalian incumbent, but fled to the hills, bogs, and 
caves." The son went abroad, fought as a soldier in the Low Countries, and 
returned long after the Revolution. The daughters had come to Wigtown, where 
they were living Avith an old woman of the name of Margaret McLachlin. All 
three, being apprehended, were tried at Wigtown on various charges of noncon- 
formity, the chief being their presence at twenty field conventicles. The facts 
were patent, the law clear, and it was adjudged that " all the three should be 
tied to stakes fixed within the floodmark in the water of Elednoch, near 
Wigtown, where the sea flows at high water, there to be drowned." 
(Drowning, one ought to explain, w\as the ordinary method of execution for 
women.) Gilbert Wilson hastened to Edinburgh, and procured, probably bought, 
a pardon for his younger daughter; then Margaret McLachlin was persuaded to 
sign a petition in which she promised to conform and besought the Lords of 
Privy Council to have mercy on her. But the passionate words of field preaching 
heard in lonely glens had sunk deep into Margaret Wilson's mind; she refused, 



[The Rladf.xoch. 

as .she Avould liavc said, " t«> bow the knee to liaal."' She wrote a letter from 

l>ris(.ii to her iVieuds "full of a det'p and affecting sense of God's love to her 

soul, and in entire resig-nati.-n to the Lord's disposal. She likewise kidded a 

vindi.-:iti..n of her refusin-i' to .sive lier life by taking the abjuration and cniiaging 

conforniity: against liotli >]\v gave ariiunients with a solidity and judgment far 
above one (d' her years iuid eilueation.'' 

Jhit the brave child's constancy found adnnrers, and her respite was pro- 
cured : it was drawn up in a .somewhat form, and .sent off to Wigtown. 
Either it did not arrive in time, or (more likely) those in autliority diteimined 
to ignore it ; at any rate, tlie sentence was carried out. Tlie iliiel actors 
were Gricr.son (.f Lag, the central figure of •• Winidering Willie's Tale" in 
" I{edgauntlet " ; and David Graham, Ijrother to Dundee. (In tlie fated eleventli of 
May the two wcanen, Iteing brought from prison, were tied to stakes on the 
Solway sjiore. A hoiTor-stnick nudtitude lined the banks, but a force of sojdierv 
rendered any chance of resciu' im})ossil»le. 'The women .sang p.salms; then the 
fierce tich- ru.shed in. and Margaret .M( Laclilin's suHerings were over. ]\largaret 
^^■ilson had been placed close to the bank of .set purpose, und liefoic the Sol- 
way had done its fell work there ensued the most moving incidi'ut in the 
martyndogy of the Covenant. " Whili' at prayer the water coviTe.l her; but 

The Bladenoch.] 



before she was quite dead, t\\v\ pulled lier up, and held her out of the water 
till .she was recovered and able to speak ; and then, by Major Windram's orders, 
she was asked if she would pray for the k\u<x. She answered that she wished 
the salvation of all men and the damnation of none. One deeply affected with 
the death of the other and her case, said, ' Dear Margaret, say " God save the 
king!" sav "God save the king!"' She answered with the greatest steadiness 
and composure, ' God save him if He will, for it is his salvation I desire.' Where- 
upon some of her relations near by, desirous to have her life spared if possible, 
called out to ^[ajor Windram, * Sir, she hath said it; she hath said it.' 
"Whereupon the ^lajor came near and offered her the alijuration, charging her 
instantly to swear it or else return to the Avater. ^lost deliberately she refused, and 
said, 'I Avill not: I am one of Christ's cluldren ; let me go!" L pon which she 
was thrust di)wu again into the water, Avliere she finished her com'se with joy."' 

And so we bid the Solway farewell ! 

Fkaxcis Watt. 

THE ClttE Al NLWION .^TEWAIil [p. o23J. 



'^J^ Poetic Associations — llcailstroams of Iho Ayrshire Uivers— •' The Liiml of liiiriis" — The Ayr iiiiil llir 
Doon — Soni — Oatrinc — Balljchmylc — Mossgiel — Mauchline — Hai-sUiiiiming-Coilsfield House ami 
tile I'ail Water — Tlie Covl— Auehnicruive — Craii;ie — Avr— The Doon. 

HI! rivrs of Avi'sliirc liave a coriKT 1)V tliciiisclvcs in the 

'il'Vl-. \\v\\\\ dl' the Scut, and in tlic in(Mn(>i'\- of llic wmld. 

•' l)()nni(_' Doon" and " auld licimit A\i" arc licttcr known 

and moix' extolled on the lianks of the St. Lawrence ami 

of the Gan<ros than nearer streams incomparably jireater in 

jHwr ^ r:\ length and volume. Why this sjionld lie so, the Philistine 

^ (W ^ V -who takes no account of the mau'ical jiower of ])oetry may lind it 

i^\ hard to understand. Those waters of Kyle, ("arrick, and ( "inniin^ham are 

\ short of course and lacking' in featui-es of scenery that are in any marked 

dejri'f(3 impressive or sulilime. 'I'lieir beauty, such as it is, they owe as much to 

Art as to Xatiiro. None of ihem can be said to be in any c.-enuin(> sense navipdile. 

It is true that some amouL;- them are centres and outlets of important industries. 

liut even in the sordid affairs of (i-ade their val!c\ s hardly take a first rank anion^- 

Scfjttish streams. Commercialh', and almost <;cot;iai)liically, they mi^lit be di'.seribed 

aH mere triiiutaries of the wealthy ('lyde. 

The headspi-iii<rs of tliese Ayrshire waters arc nowhere more than twenty or 
thirty miles distant from the shores of the Firth, and their sources as well as their 

Aykshire Eiveks.] 



mouths come within tlio raniic of view of travellers l)y that broad highway to the 
Broomielaw. They rise for the most part in hig-h and featureless moorlands, where 
the county of Ayr borders with Galloway, Lanark, and Renfrew, and disappear in 
the folds of a lower country in which one ap2)raiser of the picturesque has discovered 
a general character of " insipidity '' — a character which every true-born son ot 
Ayrshire will vehemently deny as belonging to the landscapes of his county, point- 
ing, as his witnesses, to man}- a '' flowery brae," bold crag, and richly-wooded dell 
watered by tlie clear currents of his native streams. Some of these slip quietly to 
the sea behind hills of bent and sand, lonelv except for the golfer, the salmon- 
fisher, and the sea-foAvl. Others have at their mouths ancient liurghs, busy seaports 
or pleasant Clyde watering-places flanked by breezy links or steep cliff and head- 
land, that look out across sand and wave to the purple peaks of Arran, to the 
huge columnar stack of Ailsa 
Craig, to Bute, and the Cuni- 
braes, and the otlier wonders 
of those \Yestern seas. 

l^he county might be 
likened in shape to a boom- 
erang, or to a crescent moon, 
with horns tapering to a 
point towards the north and 
south, the shore-lino from 
Wemyss Bay to Loch Ryan 
representing the concave 
inner edge, and the land 
frontier, roughly approxima- 
ting to the boundary of the 
river-ba.sins, standing for the 
outer surface. To the north 
the Ijrown moorlands come 
near to the sea ; the streams 
are correspondingly short, 
and the strip of fertile coast - 
territory narrows to nothing. 
But from the basin of Gar- 
nock to that of Doon there 
extends a diversified }ilain 
country, intersected bv limad 
ridges, veined in all direc- 
tions bv roads and railwaA' 
lines, full of thriving towns 
and villages, and amply 


.0«N {p. 




oiulowed witli tlio (.Iku-his of wood, water, rock, and liill, as well as with coalfields, 
pastures, and coriilaiuls. This is the heart of Ayrshire — tlie classic ground where 
the Ayr and the Doon are the chief anioiiij a host of streams wliose currents flow 
to the music of the choicest of Scotland's lyric soni;s. South of Doon lies the 
broken .sea of hills known as Carrick, a country with a ]ioorer surface and a wilder 
and higher background of green or heathy mountains, yet witli many beautiful and 
some sj)acious and famous river-valleys opening between its l)arer u])lands, wliicli 
run downi to the coast in bold promontories, crowned with ancient castles, or 
front it with walls of cliff ])ierced with caves in wliich has found refuge manv a 
legend of the Killing or the Snuiggling times. 

Not. however, by its memorials and traditions of old strifes— or not 1)\- tliese 
chiefly — are the hearts and the feet of strangers drawn to Ayrshire. It is tlie 
"Land of Burns."' The spirit of the song of the I'loughnKUi-Hard lias takt'u 
j)Ossession of the banks of its streams, and has silenced all older and harsher 
strains. Those who wander bv them think less about Bruce and Wallace, the grim 
deeds of the Earls of Cassilis and Lairds of Auchendrane, and the dour faces and 
I)athetic deaths of the martyrs of the Covenant, than of Tani o' Shanter glowering 
in at the " winnock-bunker" of Alloway's auld haunted kirk, of the "Jolly 1 )cggars " 
feasting and singing roimd Poosie Nancy's fireside at Maucbline, and of all the 
rustic Nells and Jeans, and Nannies and Bessies, and Marys, with whose praises 
Burns has made the Avaters of .\\ r vocal for all time. But chietlv the nnisic of 
their cm-rents seem.s to l)e a lunning accompaniment to his own stormv life. It 
reminds us of his youthful saunterings " adoun .some trottin' l)urn's mi'ander" while 
the voice of poetry in him was yet only struggling for uttei'ance; of his later 
hours of rapture or of anguish in meetings with his '' lionnie Jean " in the woods 
of Catrine or Barskinnning or liallochmyle, or in his ])aiting with Highland I^Fary 
where the Fail steals b\- leafy coverts uast the t'astle o' ]\Iontgomeri(> t(» meet the 

Ayr; and all tlie other episodes of 
passionate or pawk\- love wliicli he 
turned to .song as naturallv and 
spontaneou.sly as do the birds. 

From his earliest yeai-s, as he 
has told us. the amliition fired him 
to " g;ir our streams and biirnies 
sliine up wi tlie liest. " lie laniented 
that while^ 

" Y:iriow iiml 'r«('oiI to iiiony a tunc 
» >wre Scolliuul rings ; 
'I'lic Irwin, Luffar, Ayr, an' Doon 
Xacltody sings." 

rJloriouslv has the wish been fullilled 
and the want retrieved. The very 



names of these rivers have l)econie instinct Avith the spirit of lyric jioetrj. To 
some he returned again and auain, and decked them with tlie freshest and sweetest 
garlands of his verse. Who has not heard of " bonnie Doon," of ''winding Ayr," of 
" crvstal Afton," and the "moors and mosses mony" of stately Lugar? Others, some- 
what more removed from the centre of his enchantments, liave been immortalised 
in a line or two of exquisite characterisation. Cessnock and Stinchar, " Girvan's 
fairy -haunted stream"; where "well-fed Irwine stately thuds"; where the Greenock 
"winds his moorland course," and "haunted Garpal draws his feeble source," are 
all parts of "the dear, the native ground" of this master of the notes of rivers and 
of human hearts. 

The Ayk and the Doon, in particular, Burns has painted for us in all moods 
of the mind and i)f the Aveather. They murmur and rave with him in hi^' 
despondency, and lilt gaily in sym^^athy with the brighter hours he spent beside 
them. He finds them fresh at dawn, when the dew is hanging clear on the scented 
birks, and they are " sweet in gloaming." He traces them from their first rise on 
the heathery hillside, through hazelly sliaw and hanging wood down to the sea — 
from " Glenbuck to the Katton Quay." He is familiar Avith their aspect in brown 
autumn and bleak winter, not less than when spring has set their choirs singing-, or 
when summer is in prime. Often must he have stood and watched the effects of 
spate and storm in his beloved valleys, when, brown and turljid with the rains, or 
with "snowy wreathes upchoked," "the Ijurns came down and roared from bank to 
brae," and " auld Ayr" itself became "one lengthened tumbling sea." Nor, after 
seeing it through the poet's eyes, can we forget the moonlight scene of frost and 
glamour in the " Twa Brigs," wherein, by a marvellous blending of the real and 
the imaginary, the river spirits foot it featly over the thin platform of the ice as 
it " creeps, gently-crusting, o'er the glittering stream." 

The description in "Hallowe'en" of the burn where "three lairds' lands met," 
although Doon might claim it as applied especially to some s^oot not far from 
where "fairies light on Cassilis Downans dance," might be drawn as well from 
scores of nooks by the Ayr and its feeders : — 

" Whyles owre a linn the biirnie plays, 
As thro' the glen it wimpl't ; 
Whyles round a rocky scaur it strays, 

Whyles in a wiel it dimpl't ; 
Whyles glitter'd in the nightly rays, 

Wi' bickerin', dancin' dazzle ; 
Whyles cookit underneath the braes, 
Below the spreading hazel, 

Unseen that nicht." 

Many such might be discovered hidden even in the bare bleak moorlands, bordering 
upon Clydesdale, where the Ayr has its source. Their brown undulations, nowhere 
taking any boldness of form, and only in certain lights any beauty of colouring, 



[The Atk. 

rise on one hand to tlic crown of Cairntable. and on the other to Priosthill and its 
noijrhlioiir lieights. Stern and niovinir dramas have been enacted on tliese bleak 
hillsides. Priestliill was the lionie of tlie "Christian carrier/' Jnliu IJiowu. shot 

beside his own dour by (.'laverhouse's dragoons; and on Airds ]\ross. tlu> licatlicrv ridge 
I»c-tween Ayr and Lugar's mossy fountains, fell Kidiard ( anicroii. the ■ Lion of 
the (.'(n-eiiant."' If desolate, the district is no longer lonely, for coalpits smoke at 
tlie taproots of the Ayr beside the reservoirs that su])j)ly water to \hc mills and 
factories of Catrine; and .Muirkirk — the '' Muir Kirk of Kyle"— is a consi(l(Ta])le 
villa;:e, with iron and chemical works. 

Throiijrh a cold moorish coimtrv llir A\r wanders to Sorn. a jilace not eas\- to 
reach even now, when coimnunication has inijtroved so nmch since the times when 
a .Seitttish king testily dechired that if he wanted to give "the devil a job " he 

The Ath.] 



would send liim on a Journey in winter to Sorn. Here tbe face of the valley 
changes. It runs betwixt high and wooded l>anks, often rising precii)itouslv in great 
red cliffs, patched with lichen and fern, and \^-itli Itirch and oak coppice growing 


in their crannies, below which the strong dark current rushes tumultuously over its 
shoals or eddies, and sleeps in its deep '' ^^-iels," or curves majestically round the 
green margins of level "holms'' or haughs. ^Yiel and holm, crag and hanging 
wood, continue indeed to be characteristics of the valley landscapes from this point- 
almost to the sea ; and, for its short length of com'se, few streams, either of the 
Lowlands or Highlands, or none, can compete with "winding Ayr" in the rich 
beauty and romantic interest of its scenery. 

These featui'es are blended in wonderful and pictm'esque variety where, at the 
junction of the Cleuch burn, Sorn Castle looks down from its rock upon the Ayr, 
with the parish chm-cli and the village in close proximity. Here we come upon 


the footsteps of Pedeii the Covenanter, who was born in this parish, and had his 
''cave'" in the dell. Memories of Burns, however, thrust those of the fierce with- 
stander of the '' Godless " into the backgi-ound even in his native parish. Cati-ine 
House. beautifuUv placed among its woods on the left bank, is lower down; and 
there the poet, as guest of Professor Dugald Stewart and his father, first ' ' dinnered 
\vith a lord" — had his glimpse into that polite and lettered society which, as 
many think, did as much harm as good to the man and his genius. Cati'ine village, 
a model home of industry ever since Da\-id Dale planted his spinning factories here 
more than a century ago, is on the opposite side of the river ; and adjoining it, 
and skirting the stream, are the " braes of Ballochmyle," whose picturesque beauties 
are worthv of their .'jinger. And Ballochmyle, the seat in Burns's time and om* 
owni of the Alexanders, brings us to the environs of Mauchline, which, next to Ayr 
and Allowav and Dumfries, may of being the locality closely associated 
with the poet and his muse. Mossgiel, where he farmed the stifP and thankless soil 
<if the " ridge of Kvle," is three miles behind the town, on high ground forming 
the water.shed between the Cessnock and the Ayr. Tliere, as Wordsworth sings, the 
pilgrim niav find " the very field where Burns ploughed up the daisy," and look 
far and wide over the undulating plain furrowed by many a tuneful stream to Avhere, 
" descried above sea-clouds, the jjcaks of Arran rise." On the road leading down to 
the clean and thriving little town below. Burns foregathered with Fun and her glum 
companions on their wav to ^Mauchline " Holy Fair." In the kirkvard one may find 
the graves of " Daddy Auld " and of " Nance Tinnock." Close by, on the site of 
the ancient priory that had Melrose as its mother house. Bums wrote some of his 
best known lyrics ; while opj^o.^ite still stands the change-house of " Poosie Nancy," 
whose fame has Ijeen made immortal by the "Jolly Beggars." Jean Armour was 
the daughter of a local ma.son; and otlier '"Mauchline Belles," besides his "Bonnie 
Jean," attracted his fickle fancy, and si)urred his Muse to song. Tlie best and the 
woi-st memories of Robert Bums cling about 3Iaucliliiie. 

A mile from the to^^^l — a mile aLso below the railway viaduct that bestrides the 
river — Ayr is joined by Lugar, and the united streams flow in dark swirls under 
the picturesque arches of Barskimmtng Bridge and along the margin of the pretty 
holm in which Bums is said to have composed his " Man was ^lade to Mourn." 
The stretcli of three or four miles from this point down to Failford is perhaps the beautiful and romantic on the Ajr. The current alternately hurries and 
paases in its winding course, now between lofty crags of nld red sandstone or 
steep banks clad with hawthorn and bramble, now through umbrageous woods of 
oak and beech coming down to the water's edge, or past the skirts of flat green 

Barskimming, a square red man.sion of lasc century, occuj)ies a noble 
and conmianding position on a rock overlooking some of the deepest jjools of A}t. 
Jiosido it, the river is spanned, high above its darkling eddies, by an elegant 
buluijtratcd bridge grey with age and grctn with mosses. A mile below, the river 

The Ate.] " HIGH LAND MARY:' 335 

path drawn athwart the steep brae-sides phmges by a tunnel throuo-h a great 
barrier of red rock that rises sheer from the right bank, and openino-s in the cliff 
face give glimpses of the rushing sti-eam, and of the trees climbing the crags opposite 
to where they are croi^Tied by a mimic porticoed temple. 

Hard by, on the Water of Fail, is the Castle o' Montgomerie, otherwise 
known as Coilsfield House, where, according to some authorities, Mary Campbell — 
"Highland Mary" — was dairymaid when Burns was farming at Lochlea, behind 
the village of Tarljolton, whose " mote hill," high-standing parish church, and lono- 
A-illage street, in which thatched cottages still alternate with m(jre modern dwellinp-g, 
are only half an hour's walk away. These "banks and braes and streams" will 
be associated with this brief and somewhat obscure episode in the poet's career 
until song itseK is forgotten : — 

" Time but the impression stronger makes, 
As streams their channels deeper wear.'' 

If we may trust his verse on the point, the last meeting of the lovers was 
some trysting-place by the Ayr: — 

" Ayr, gurgling, kiss'd his pebbled shore, 

O'erhung with wild woods, thick'ning green ; 
The fragrant birch and hawthorn hoar 
Twin'd amVous round the raptur'd scene." 

There are scores of spots near the inflow of the Fail to which the description, in 
" My Mary in Heaven," of the place of meeting might apply. But tradition 
and the poet himself point to the lovely wooded glen of the Fail as the scene 
of parting ; and the very spot, beside a rustic bridge, is shown. 

With many a sweeping curve and abrupt elbow, the Ayr continues to pursue 
its course by rock and wood and level meadow and factory chimney to the sea; 
past Coilsholm and the " Dead Man's Holm," a name that may preserve the 
memory of some otherwise forgotten battle; past Stair village and Stair House, 
now neglected and forlorn, whence the noble and gifted familv of Dalr^-mple have 
taken their title; past Dalmore and Enterkin, that early seat of the Cunninghames, 
and Annbank, where the scene of Burns's " Fete Champetre'' is now obscm-ed by 
colliery smoke ; by Gadsgirth also, whose mansion, standing on a coign of the 
southern bank, was long- the home of the old family of Chalmers ; and on to where 
the river is joined by the Coyle, whose " winding vale," were we to trace it up, 
woiJd lead us to the bold cliffs and cascades of Sun drum, to Coylton and the "King's 
Steps," which, too, preserve traditions of " Coil, king of the Britons," said to have 
been defeated on the neighbouring uplands by " Fergus, king of the Picts and 
Scots"; and so to the Craigs of Kyle, where, among "the bonnie blooming heather," 
one can look down upon the Doon. 

The same scenery — the alternation of pool and shallow, of wood and crag and 
meadow — continues along the great double curve which the main stream makes past 



The Ave.] 



the grounds of AuclH'iicniivo. Eacli -\viel and lidliii lias its own name and 
story; and the woods of Auclienevuive, of Laighm, and of Craigic are full of legends 
of "William Wallace, who here st>ught shelter when hiding from his English foes, 

or meditating his attack ou the 
" Barns of Ayr.'' Auchencruive, so 
named from the natm-al trap dyke 
which here crosses the river, has a 
Wallace - Seat "' and "Cave." Tt is 


\YIl {p. 338). 

said to have been a possession of a branch of the family of the " Knight of 
Elderslie,'' but passed from them and from their successors, the Cath carts. 

"Sundrum sliall sink, and Auchencruive sliall fa', 
And the name o' Cathcart shall soon wear awa'." 

From Burns's day to our own it has been held by the Oswalds, (/raigie, too, was 
for centuries a seat of the Wallaces ; and it also has its cave and its well, dedicated 
to the hero— the mark of his heel is still pointed out on the platform of rock on 
which he jumped doAvn, and whence rushed, and still rushes, a pure spring of water. 
Aiid among the trees of Laiglan, Burns tells us that he spent a summer-day tracnig 


]nvj:ns or cheat i:i:it.\i.\. 

the footsteps <»f llie ]);itriot. and in vision s;nv him " tn-andisli munil tlio doop-dvod 
steel in sturdy hlows." 

From the smnniit of these liiirli hanks deh'jiilitful ii'linipses are had, tln-oiioh the 
trees, of the aneient huri;h of Ayr. "Low in a sandv vallev spread": with spires, 
owers and factory stalks risinir ahove the uTeenerv and tlie masses of liouses; its 


liroa<l and rushinir river in the midst <if it. crossed hv hridges old and new; 
Itehind these tlu' sweep of tlie Bay of Ayr. ami. a- hackuround towards tlie south. 
the dark nd<re of Urown Carriek Hill emlinu' seawanl in tlic Ixild fnnit uf the Ihnids 
of Ayr— tlie town .sjiows hravely from a distance. Nor does a nearir view destroy 
the impression which it makes, esjjecially as .seen from the leafv nuirgin of the 
stream, across the still expanse of the Dam. or from the Kailway Hridjic. Lower 
down are the historic arches of tlu' " Twa Hri^s " thai unite the orii-inal Ayr with 
its northern sulmrl)s of Newtown and ^\'alhl(•etown. 'l'l:c jioet's pni|ihcc\ . as the 
citizens noted with ill-conceah-d deUulit. has heen. at least in ])art. lullilh'd. The 
Aulil Hr'v^, '• thi' very wrinkh's Gothic in its face." still >tands. althoui:h resci'Ved 
for foot-jtassenirers alone: its youniicr ri\al. L:i\inu wa\ prematurcK to the assaults 
of time and flood. lias jiad to he reliuilt : 

"III 1h- u lull,' wlicri yi-'ii' u s1i;i]h'1iss t-aini." 

Near the approach<-s lA the .\ulil ihii,'- are eoiii;rc;iatt'd what remains of the old 

Thi: Ayi!.] " AULD AYR." 339 

Ayr liousos — a dinunisliinii- conipaii)-, as toAvn iiiipvovcmcnts break in and sweep 
away iiarrdw closes and ^rim dwellings with hig-h-pitelied roofs and crow-stepped 
o-abk's ; below it are the harbour and the shipphig. Of what was memorable and 
historic in Old Ayr — its monasteries of the Black and the Grey Friars ; its castle, 
where kings and jiarliaments sat in council; its ancient church, dedicated to St. 
John the Baptist, wherein great Kirk controversies have been held, and Knox and 
otlier Ixefonners have preached— all have disappeared except the tower of St. John, 
and even it was reft of its gables last century "to give it a more modern ap- 
pearance." (/romwell, to make room for his fort, cleared away church and castle; 
and the fort itself has followed in its turn. 

Tlie high places of Ayr are of more modern date; and chief among them, 
peiliaps, are the Wallace Tower, the imposing front of the Joint Railway 
Station, and the Hospital and the Poorhouse, heirs and successoi's of the 
Lepei's' Ilonu^, endowed by The Bruce in gratitude for the ease yielded to him bv 
the waters of St. Helen's Well at " King's-ease.'' The handsome Town Hall 
was destnjyed by fire in 1807. Round the margin of the town, especially in the 
direction of the Uoon, are streets of handsome villas and open spaces shaded by 
trees; and the place grows and thrives steadilv if slowlv. But, more than of its 
architecture, A3"r is ])roud of its sons and daughters : — 

'■ Auld Ayr, wliara ne'er a toon snr|iasses, 
For honest men and Ijonnie lasses." 

The " aidd clay biggin'" where, in wild January weather, Burns tirst saw 
the light, is two or three miles outside the burgh, close to the Doon and to the 
haunted Kirk of Alloway. Within the thatched and whitewashed cottage — the 
shrine of crowds of pilgrims, wliose mmJjers grow with the years — is a little 
museum of Burns mementoes and curiosities; and the beautifid monument of the 
poet, a temple raised on lofty fluted columns, overlooks the scene. The road 
thither leads past the racecourse on the way to ]\Iaybole, and crosses the romantic 
wooded dell through which flows the Water of Doon, by the Auld Brig, the 
senior Ijy some years of the Brig of Ayr itself. Across its keystone young 
Robin often trudged on his way to school, after the family had removed to 
]\Iount Oliphant, two miles off on the Carrick side. In the churchyard his father, 
whose portrait is so grandly painted in "The Cotter's Saturday Night," is buried. 
The "cairn above the well," the " wiimock-bunker in the east," and other places 
HU'utioned in the tale of Tam o' Shanter's ride, are still pointed out in or near 
the roofless and ivy-clad kirk. The neighbourhood is haunted by the strong- and 
familiar spirit of Robert Burns. 

Having lingered so long on the Ayr, we can only spare time to glance up 
"Bonnie Doon," although its charms are scarce less many and celebrated than 
tliosc of its twin river. Like the Avr, the chamiel of its lower course is carved 
boldl\- :iud deeply into the land. It flows, in pool or shallow, under impending 



[The Doox. 

craofs and steej) baiik.s cluthoil with cuppice and urcomvood , or past tlic mar<nu 
of fertile liauizlis. It has its ruined castles and veneralile mansion liouses. its 
picturesipie old kirks and bridtres and mills, and its rich dowrv of tradition 

TIIR 1I.IIIN : TriK M;\V AMI Till; All.Il IIUKi 

and son^^ Kikr its nci-hlioin-. too, thr Doon draws its strcn^lh from waste and 
solitary places; only, its cradle Is in l)arer an<l wilder scenes, and is haunted l.\- 
wilder le;ren<ls, fhan are to he found alxmt the licadsprin-rs <if Avr. Its windings 
would hrinir us to AiH-hendranc. the home of .lames .Mnir. ■'The (Jrev Man."" as nrue- a villain as ever fi-ured in history <.r romance; to the woods and dilfs and 
walls of Cassilis, the seat of the iiead of the Kennedys tlios.^ most unruly of the 

The Doon.] 



unruly men of Carrick — whence Johnnie Faa, the Gipsy, stole away the lady, and 
where he and his men afterwards dangled from the " Dool Ti-ee"; to many a spot 
beside, famous in sung- and legend, until, through long bare moorlands on which 
mineral works and vdllages have intruded, we come, past Dalmellington, to the solitary 
shores of Loch Doon, its tunnelled outlet, its islands and old castle of the Baliols ; and 
be3'ond it, to the liigh green hills of Galloway now rising over against the dark 
heathery slopes of the Carrick fells. And so we reach the sources of the stream 
under the Ijrow of Merrick in the desolate wilderness of granite and peat-moss 
that surrounds Loch Enocli and the " Wolf's .Slock," a region the wildest in tlic 
Soutli of Scotland, Avhere Mr. Crockett has found the scenery of his "Raiders"" 
and liis '■ ^len of the Moss Hags." John Geddie. 




ClyJesdnle and its Waters — "The Hill of Firp"— Douglnstlalo— '• Oastle Dan-jerous " — Bonning^on Linn — Corra Linn and 
" Walloce's Tuwir "—Lanark— Thf Mouse Water— StonebjTes Linn— The Xethan ami '■ Tillietudloni "— '' The Urchai-d 
uf Sctilland "— Uaniilton and its Talaee— Oidzow Castle and its Assoeiations— Bothwdl Briij and ("astle— BLint\Te— 
Cnmhiisling— Uiitherglen— GLisgow: The City and its History— The (inays. Porks, and Shiidmilding Yards -The Work 
of the Clyde Navigation Trust— IKnim and Tarliek— The AVhite Cart— Diiniltirton Rock and Castli — The Leven Valley 
— Ben and Ixxh Lomond — Gn^enoek- Gourtiek— The Firth at Eventide. 

L.\S(;()W CITY lias, as its t-hiof armorial drvicc. a tree of nia^ssive 

trunk and wiilc-siircadini;' hram-lies. The minor svmbols, of 

l>ird and l)ell and tisli, have lost their old .siiinificance. The 

salmon no lon<rer ventures so far up the labour-stained waters 

W/^-j%^ "f ^''^' Clyde as Glasgow Green. Xo more the nionki.sli bell 

^ P^k*^a\^9^' soinids to matins and vesjiers on tlic lianks of the .Abilcmlinar 

,W^ j^L.'i .-^ Ijurn. now turned by man's im])rovini:- hand into a main 

sewer. The sooty street-sparrow, almost alone anioiiir the 

feathered tril)e, is at home under the jzreat eity's ]ki11 of 


Hut more than ever the statelv and riouri.shing tree is 
an apt similitude, not only r)f the little cathedral town that has grown to ])e, as 
its inhabitants jn-oudly boast, the '' Second City of the Empire," but also of the 
stream that has nurtured it to <rrcatness. Tlie Clyde, if it is not the loiiiifst of 
course or the larjrest of volume of .stn^nns, is bevonil all comparison the 
most important from the point of view of industry and commerce. Within its basin 
are contained .something like one-third of the jxipulatioii and half of the wealth 
and tratHc of the Xorthern Kingdom. Hetween Dumbarton Kock and the sourct^s of 
till' infant Clyde we are carried from tlic busiest hives of laliour and marts of 
trade to g-reen or heathy solitudes, whose silence is only broken bv the l)leat of 
the .sheep and the cry of the muirfowl. 

Harking back to the iigure of the tree of goodlv stem and s])read of lind), 
one has to <»)»serve that it is not by any means upon the largest of the 
branches that iiinnemorial u.sage has fixed the name of tiie Clyde. According- 
to the popular saving — 

" Twewl, Aiiiiaii, aii<l Clydf, 
A' in ju; Lillside." 

r>ut tiiis descrijilion of the source ap])li(^s only to the "Clyde's l^urn," 
valley the main line of the Caledonian Kailway a.scends. on its wav by Heatfock 
Sinnmit into .\nnan(lale. Wiicn the Clyde's Hum has run it-; halt-do/.cn niil.'s :md 

met, nl»ove Klvanfoot. the I >aer Water, < ling from a height of over '.'.(KM) feet, 

on the slopes of the (Jaiia and ilarnciaig Hills. th<- latter has alreatU llowed 

The Clviie.] 

.1 ,^^^4 OF 11 ILLS." 


a more than twirc the leiinth ; iiiul tlun-e are other ti'il)utarios — tlio Powtrail 
tiiul tlic Elvaii, for instance, ih-ainini;- the eastern slopes of the wihl liills, vemcd 
with lead-ore, that on tlie other side connnand the valley of the Nitli— which 


might successfully compete, as the source of the Cl}'de, with the modest little 
runlet, issuing from the shoulder of Clyde's Law, that overlooks Tweed's Well. 

A " sea of hills," green or heather clad, is tlie whole of this region of 
Clydesdale, forming the tlistricts of Crawford, Crawfordjohn, and adjoining 
parishes. It is rolled into great weaves — not, however, as Sir Archibald Geikie 
remarks, steep and im2)ending like those that darken the Highland glens, but 



[The Clyde. 

nuimlod and smooth like tlic swell of tlie ocean subsiding after a storm. On 
either hand .>itreams imumierable have hollowed out their channels — "hopes'' and 
" jnlls '" and "eleuchs" — in the heart of the hills; and the clear or brown 
waters tumble merrilv over rock and shingle, or skirt the etlges of peat-moss or 
j)asture land on their wav to reinforce the Clyde. Bare and l)]eak arc these 
landscapes, as a rule. But there are not wanting fairvlike nooks and glailes, as 
well as scenes of sterner beauty. The watersides are often fringed with a natural 
growth of birch and oak and alder; and on tlic hillsides are thriving i)lantations 
or gi'oups of ash and rowan, sheltering tlie infrequent fannliouse or slie})herd's 
cottage. Only at the headstreams of the Glengonnar Water, under the 
" Gri'cn Lowther," have smokv industries broken in ujjon these pastoral and 
moorish solitudes of the Upper Ward: for at Leadliills, as at the neighbouring 
village of Wanlockhead, across tlie watershed, lead - ore is still worked and 
smelted in considerable quantity, although the gold mines of this anil other parts 
of Crawford ^loor, (»nce the objects of kingly quest and solicitude, have long 
been abandoned. 

Bv the sites of old camps and mote-hills, by grey peels and kirkyards, 
and clachans and mansion-houses, past Tower Lindsay, looking across from its 
moinid and its grove of lichened plane and oak trees to the tiny barony 
burgh of Ci'awford ; past the desolate little God's acre of St. Constantine, or 
Kirkton, where lies the dust of Jane ^^'elsh Carhde's mother, of tlic gii)sy kin, 
of the Baillies ; 
past the woods 
and lawns and 
pretty red handet 
of Abington, runs 
the Water of 
Clyde until, be- 
side the fragment 
of Lamington 
Tower — the heri- 
tage, if tradition 
may l)c crcditeil, 
of the wife of 
William Wallace 
— it brings us fairl}' 

This "Hill <.f Fire" spreads its skirts 
through four parishes, wliose boundaries meet 
at the huge cairn of stones on its crest — the 
site of old lieacon fires, perha])s of Druid 
altars. It is the sentinel height of Ipptr 

Thl Clyde.1 



Clytlosdale. Few hills in Sdutherii »Scollaiul are so isolated or command so wide 
and glorious a ])ros])ect. Its porphyritic mass seems to be set in the very jaws 
of the Up2)(n- Vale; and between Lamington and the mouth of the Douglas Water — 
little more than six miles as the crow flies — the Clyde meanders through low- 
lying h.aughs and holmlands, by Covington and Carstairs and Ilyndford Bridge, 
for a distance oF twenty miles and more round the base of Tinto and its subject 
hills. From the summit, on a clear da\-, one can descry the Bass Rock and 



Goat Fell, and even the hills of Cumberland and Ireland, besides portions of 
nearly a score of .Scottish counties. 

Over against it to the eastward rises Cutler Fell and, divided from the latter 
by the rich plain of Biggar, the heights of Bizzyberry and Quothquan, scenes of 
the exploits of William Wallace. Its northern slopes all drain into the Douglas 
Water. The moorland pastures that enclose Douglasdale sj^read away towards 
Cairn Table and the Ayrshire border ; and from the nearer buttresses of Tinto glimpses 
are had, in the valley below, of the smoke from its coalfield and of the woods 
that surround the "Castle Dangerous" of history and romance. 

The story of the House of Douglas may be read on the walls and on the floor 
of the church of St. Bride of Douglas, of which there remains only the spire and 
the choir, lately restored by the latest heir and representative of the Douglas line, 
Lord Dunglass, the eldest son of the Earl of Home. In its precincts, on Palm 
Sunday, 1307, took place that memorable struggle between the "good Sir James" 
of Douglas and his adherents, and the English garrison of Sir John de Walton, 

The Clyde] THE FALLS OF CLYDE. 347 

who undertook, for the winning of hi.s lovesuit, the jierlloiis cmpvise of lioldina: 
the castle of the Douglases against its rightful master. Here, enclosed in what wo 
are told is a silver casket, placed under glass in the floor of the church above the 
Douglas vault, is the heart of the great warrior and patriot himself, brought home 
after he had lost his life among the Paynim hosts of Spain while seeking to carry 
the Bruce's heart to the Holy Land. His recumbent cross-legged effigy is one 
of the most ancient of the monuments to his kin who lie in the church of St. 
Bride; among these being ''Archibald Bell the Cat," and Archibald the second and 
James the third Dukes of Touraine, the sons of " Earl Tineman." Hither came Sir 
Walter Scott, with Lockhart in his company, on his last sad pilgrimage of romance, 
when the shadows of the grave had ah-eadv Ijcgun to gather about himself and his 
right hand was already losing its cunning. 

Along the waterside for miles below Douglas extend the magniticeut woods 
and gardens and ''policies" of Lord Home's estate, enclosing the grand castellated 
mansion of Douglas Castle — although this is but a fi'action of the vast edifice begun 
bv the last Duke of Douglas; the vestiges of the old "Tower Perilous "; the three 
artificial lakes, and spots that speak so plainly of the wars of old and of the rough 
deeds of the Douglases as the " Bloody Sykes," the " Bottomless Mire," and the 
artificial moimd of the " Boncastle." 

Just where it meets the Douglas Water, the Clyde makes a sharp and 
momentous turn. It reaches the romantic crisis in its career, and tumbles head- 
long over the Falls of Clyde. It leaves its youth behind it as it passes the turning- 
point, and makes its plunge over Bounington Linn. Hitherto its flow has been 
jJacid or rippling ; it has been the clear-flowing Clyde Water of song and ballad, 
winding among lone places of the hills, washing the bases of Roman camps or 
feudal peels, or skix-ting leisurely the edges of fertile meadows or rough pastures, 
browsed by sheep and cattle. The sound and stir of labour have not greatly dis- 
turbed it ; there have been no busy seats of industry near its banks. But from its 
great ordeal it comes forth a stream with a changed character and destiny ; not less 
attractive in itself and its surroundings — for a time, indeed, it gains in beauty — 
but with tlie .sober pace and growing biu'den of middle life upon it, gathering, as 
it moves seaward, more and more of the stains and defilements of human toil — the 
black trickles from the Lanarkshire coalfield, and the sewage of busy towns and 
villages — until it becomes a muddy and ill-smelling current, flowing between ranks 
of tenements and ranges of factory chimneys. 

In the three miles and three-quarters of its com-se beginning at IJonnington. 
the Clyde descends a depth of 260 feet, leaping again and again, and yet again, 
over sheer walls of rock, boiling in pools and pot-holes, and brawling over boulder 
and shingle bed, between mm-al cliffs of old red sandstone or high lianks clothed 
with wood or diversified by parks and orchards. In the remaining forty or fifty miles 
of its journey, before it becomes finally merged in the salt water, its fall is only 
170 feet. 



[The Clyde. 

Clyile's first pliuifrc at tlio Boniunut<in. or IJoiiitou. I.inn. is the least deep and 
impressive of the tliree : and by comparison with the scenes below, the surroundino-s 
of the spot where the river takes its leap are oi)en and Itare. The water falls 
sheer over a precipice into a deep cauldron 30 feet below, and is broken in its 
descent only by a projecting- rock in the middle. Thence it churns and eddies 

Photo : A. Brown i Co., La 


and boils between tlic lofty walls f)f sandstone overhung- ])\- wood, and ihapcnl 
wherever tliere is hold for root and librr b\- trees ;iiid undergiowth, to meet a 
f,'rcatcr cata.strophe at Corra Linn. At this tlic uTandcst of Scotland's waterfalls — 
"Clyde's majestic (laii<rliter '" — the stream flings itself down from a height of 
84 feet, in a tumultuous white mass of foam, the falling body of water being 

The Clyde.] 



broken and torn in its descent Ijy many sharp ledg-es and points of rock. In time of 
spate, especially when the sun shines and wreathes rainbows in the smoke of mist 
and spray that rises from the fall, the scene is indescribably f^rand. The deafening- 
roar of the angry waters, the loveliness of the rock and sylvan scenery in which 
they are set, deepen beyond measure tlie impression which these Falls of Clyde 
mak(! on the mind and imagination. The wealtli of foliage — bracken, broom, sloe, 

I'lwto: A. Brou-ii it Co., Lanark. 

UOM.IX lliailGE XE.VIl LAX.VKK ^//. 

anci wild flowers of many kinds, as well as tall forest trees — -drapes what would 

otherwise be the savage nakedness of the spot with hues and forms of beauty ; and 

there is no lack of the shady ''ell-wide walks" which Wordsworth so much 

appreciated, winding- from one to another coign of vantage on the riverside. Nor 

is there wanting the charm of romantic and historical association : — 

" The deeds 
Of Wallace, like a family of ghosts, 
People the steep rocks and the river banks, 
Her natural sanctuarie.s, with a local soul 
■ Of independence and stern liberty." 

350 nrrEES of great britaix. [thf. clyde. 

''Wallace's Tower" helped to inspiiv tlio j)oet of tlic " Kxcursioii " at siylit of 

CoiTa Linn : — 

" L<ird of tlie vale ! astounding Flood ! 
The dullest leaf in this thick wood 
Quakes — conscious of thy power ; 
The caves reply with hollow moan ; 
And vibrates to its central stone 
Yon time-cemented Tower." 

There Is also a '•Wallace Chaii'"" l>elow ("ona Linn: and in Bonnington House, 
■whoso beautiful jri'ounds, to which the public have access, occupy the right bank of 
the river opposite both of these upper falls, there are relics of the hero who made 
Lanark and the Linns of Clyde one of liis chief haunts. 

Quite other memories — those of David Dale, '' herd-boy, hawker, manufacturer, 
turkev-red dyer, Itanker, and evangelist," and of his partner and son-in-law, Robert 
Owen — liuirer about the wheels and chimney-stacks of New Lanark, those celel»rated 
cotton mills which wci'e established, in days before steam had robbed water-power 
of great part of its workaday fimctions, for tlic jiurpose of carrying nut a noble 
experiment in industrv and philanthropy. And lii-axfield, still lower down the 
sti-eam, recalls to us the name and rural tastes — surely, not -vrithout a redeeming 
touch of grace and romance — of that Hanging Judge, the Jeffreys of the Scottish 
bench, whom Roljert Louis Stevenson has innnortalised as the Lord Justice Clerk in 
" Weir of Hermiston." 

But the ( "astle Hill and streets of the " ancient burgh of Lanark '' — now close 
bv. on the table-land above the river — bring back our thoughts to "Wallace wight'' 
and to lawless and troublous times. The site of tlie old Royal Castle, wliicli had 
harlxiured kings and .stood sieges, is now occupied liy a bowling green. Lanark 
Moor, where armies have mustered in the cause of the Douglases or the Stuarts, of 
King or Covenant, is in peaceful possession of golf and horse-racing. Li the Castle- 
gait is the site of the house where, according to a cherished tradition over which 
the dnl1i>r Muse of History shakes the head, lived Clarion Bradfute, that heiress of 
Lamington whom Wallace took to wife, and whom he so terribly avenged when 
Ilazelrig, the shcriif and lioveriioi' of Lanark Castle, liad slain her for gi\"ing har- 
bourage to the hero. 

The valley below i>anark gradually ojiens up into the fruitful " Trough of the 
Clyde," and becomes beautifully diversified by fertile fields, by woods and lawns, 
and by cottages sun'ounded by orchard ti-ees, that in spring are overspread with the 
tinted and jH-rfumed snow of the apple-blo.'<.som. From tin- right the Mouse Water 
flows into Clyde through the .savage chasm of the Cartland Crags — opposing walls 
and pinna«-les of rock, crowned and .seamed with wood, that have apj)arently been 
riven apart to allow scant ])a.s.sage for the turbid little moorland .stream tliat lirawls 
over the .^and-stone reefs and ledges in the green obscurity below. Still llu' glmNt 
of Wallace flits licfore us, for in the jaws of the Cartland defile, v\osc to Telt'oi'd's 
liaiidtHJiiie bridge over the Mouse, is the champion's Cave, and perched on the 


summit of tlic clilt's is the " C'ustle of the Quaw," associated in len-end with liis 
deeds. Another arch spanning- the Mouse — the IJinnan Bridg-e at Cloghorn — has 
associations much more ancient ; it marks the spot where Watling Street, which 
traversed Clydesdale and crossed Lanark Moor on its way from Carlisle to Antoninc's 
Wall, passed the brawling little stream. 

Stonebyres Linn, the last of the three great leaps of Clyde, is somewhat more 
than a mile below Lanark Bridge, and close to the road that holds down the left 
bank of the stream to Crossford, Dalserf, and Hamilton. It has not the romantic 
surroundings of Corra Linn. But the fall of water descending headlong over rocky 
ledges in a dizzy plunge into the "Salmon Pool" — the ''thus far and no farther " of 
the lordly fish that once swarmed in the Clyde — has by many been adjudged more 
graceful, if less majestic, than the upper linn. Two miles further on comes in the 
Nethan, winding through its w^ooded strath under the base of Craignethan ( 'astle. 
It is the Tillietudlem of " Old Mortality," the name being j^robably borrowed by 
Scott from " Gullictudlem," a ravine adjacent to Corra Linn. It was a stronghold of 
the Hamiltons ; and, with its strong position on a steep pcninsulated bluff between 
the Nethan and a tributary burn, its moat, and its massive walls and towers of hewn 
stone, of which a goodly portion . yet keep its place, it nuist when tirst built have 
been Avell-nigh impregnable, The traditional tale is that the Scottish monarch of 
the time, taking alarm at the portentous and threatening strength, rewarded the 
builder and owner — the "Bastard of Arran" — by hanging him betimes as a suspected 
rebel. The chief incident in its annals is the sta}- made at Craignethan by Mary 
Stuart before fortune went finally against her at Langside. More vividly do the 
frowning keep, the crumbling vaults, the ivy-clad garden walls, and the steep copse- 
clad dells and braes, I'ecall to our minds Lady IMargaret Bellenden sitting downi to 
" disjeune " in the chamber of dais, Jenny Dennison scalding the too-adventurous 
Cuddie Headrigg with the porridge, Henry Morton before the Council, and Ikirley 
lurking like a wounded wolf in his cave. 

From this point downward the stream of Clyde, as it winds towards Glasgow 
through the centre of the great coal and iron field that has fed the wealth of 
the city and the commerce of the river, becomes moi'e and more closely beset 
l)y the great armies of industry. For a time they still keep at a respectful 
distance ; their camp fires — pillars of flame ))y night and of cloud by day — rising 
from furnace chimney and pit head on the high ground enclosing the " Trough of 
the Clyde." Up there, in an intricate network of railway lines, are busy and 
growing towns and villages sending forth their smoke to overshadow the valley, and 
pouring down into it, liy a score of tributary streams, the lees and pollutions of 
labour and of crowded ru-ban life. But for a wliile the sheltered haughs and 
sloping banks of tlie C^lydc still deserve the name of the " Orchard of Scotland." 
The drundie gills and burns, that higher up have drained moss hags and skirted 
mounds of slag and mean rows of miners' cottages, break into the central valley 
through bosky and craggy dells, and tlirough acres of fruit trees and the woods 

The Clyde.] 


and laAvn.s of stately mansion liouscs, or past vencn-ablo parisli clmrches or 
fraii-nicnits of old castles, to join the Tlvde. There arc such line sweeps of 
rivi'r as those, for instance, that skirt the uroiinds of Mauldslie Castle, and 
wind round Dalserf, liefore the now broad and full stream takes a straigliter 
course under Dalserf Bridge, past Candnisuethan, towards 1 )alziel and 

All these names invite the down-stream wayfarer to pause and survey tlie 
beauties of Clydesdale. IJut the spot of really connnanding interest is Hamilton, 
the centre for four or live centuries of the jxiwer of the great family of 
Hamilton, that succeeded to so much of the dominion and influence owned l)y 
the Douglases in the valle\- of the Clyde. The haughlands here spread out to 
a truh' noble width; and (he lawns and parks that surround the chief seat of 
the Dukes of Hamilton, and stretch down to the right bank of the river and 
extend along its windings from Hamilton Bridge down to Both well Bridge, have 
space enough to give an air of grandeur and seclusion to the scene, spite of the 
crowding around it of a modern workada}- world. For the town of Hamilton is 
at the verv gate of the i)alace ; and over against the low parks aiul the 
racecourse b^- the riverside rise ■ sheaves of chimney-stacks, crownetl with smoke, 
that proclaim the neighbourhood of ^lotherwell and other grimy haunts of the 
Lanarkshire coal and iron industries. 

From the plain white baronial house of "The Orchard," Iniilt in 1501 and 
set among its pleasant fruit trees, Hamilton Palace has S2)read and risen into one 
of the princeliest piles in the land. Its long and lofty facade, adorned with 
Corinthian columns, ovt'rlooks its })arterres and flower gardens; the grand mausoleum 
of the Hamiltons, built— at a cost, it is said, of £1.30, 000— in the style of the 
castle of San Angelo at Bome ; and the spacious parks, dotted with trees, that 
.slope gently towards the nun-gin of Clyde. 

The soul of Hamilton Palace has departed since the sale in 1S81 of the 
unri\alled collection of pictures, books, and rare works of art, brought together 
by the taste and wealth of Beckford, the author of " Vathek," and of succes.sive 
dukes. With this removal the centre of interest seems once more to have shifted 
to the further side of the busy burgh, where, in the High Parks adjohiing the 
original seat of the Hannlton family, the " crundjled halls" of Cadzow Castle, are 
to lie found the vet more venerable remains of the Caledonian Forest — huge 
gnarled and decayed boles of ancient oaks, sadly thinned by latter-day gales— 
and the sur^•ivors of what are supi)osed to be the native bri-ed of wild white 

When Queen jMary escaped from Lochleven, she fled for .shelter and aid to 
her kinsfolk at Cadzow. A few years later, as Scott's ballad rehearses, another 
refugee spurred thither— Hamilton of Bothwellhaugh, after assas.sinating the Regent 
Moray in the street of Linlithgow. The i\Iagician waves his wand and restores 
the scene, by Avon side, as it was more than three centuries ago: — 


354 i;iyi:i;s of auKAT uuitms. [the clvi.e 

" WIh'iv, with the rock's wood-coviT'il side 
Were Mended hite the ruins green, turrets in fantastic pride, 

.Vnd feudal banners flaunt between. 

" Wliiiv tlie rude torienl's ))rasvllnj; course 
\\'as shajiged with tliorn and tangleil sloe. 
The ashlar liuttress liraves its force. 
And nuuparts frown in battled row." 

A Imiidrcd yours latiT. wlicii ('adznw was alroadv abandoned and in dt-cav, 
llif vii-tmions ( "ovt'iiantiiiir forct' wliicli had di-ffatt'd tlie dragoons nf ( lavrrliouse 
at I>nun(Ii>o\ on tlio droarv moorland slopes near the sources oi the Avon, 
marched down this watei-side — the Mvandale of "Old Mortality "^on their Avay 
to make their l)okl but luckless atteniiit on Glasgow. Soon after tliev wi're back 
again in tiiis neighbourhood in force, ])reparing to, witli what di.sastrous 
results is well known, tlie jiassage of Monmoiuh's lioxalist tioops across ISolliwcll 

" Wliere Both well Bridge connects the margin steep, 

And Clyde Iwlow runs silent, strong, and deep. 

The hardy peasant, l>_v oppression driven 

'J"o Ijattle, deemed his cause the cause of Heaven ; 

Unskilled in arms, with useless courage stood. 

While gentle Monmouth grieved to shed his Mood." 

So writes tin- author of "The Clyde": and in spite of the beauty of the scene. 
the old associations of l>othw(>ll Brij^- and its vicinity ar(> with broil and wrong 
and liloodshed. Below the scene of Monmouth's vi(lor\- aie sylvan lianks coiisi'crated 
to the memory of forsaken love — "0 Bothwell bank, thou bloomest fair!" And 
lower down, facing each otliei- from vantage i:round on opposite sides of the 
stream, are the grand ruins of ojil liotlnviH ( 'aslle and the remains of Hlant\i'e 

iJetween these two sentinels of the i)ast -the (•rinnl)lini;' but still massive ieudal 
towers of the Douglases on their iiold green bank, and the meagre fragment of tiie 
monu.stic i)eiclied on its red .sandstone cliff — runs the smo(tth dee]) current o| 
the Clyde, inspiring, as Woi-dsworth has .said, "thoughts more in harmoin- with 
the sober and stately images of former times, than if it had roared over a roik\ 
chann«'l, and forced its somid upon the ear." The castle, both from the mass and 
hei;rht of its huge walls and round towers and tuirets, and from its situation, is 
still magniliceiit in its decay. It has had many masters, anion.-;- them that A\iiier 
de Valence who held Clydesdale bir the kjiiilish and planned the capture of Wallace. 
Kdward I. and IMward III. have .sojourned in it. Hut its best rememlH>red owners 
are the I'dack 1 (oujrhise.s. Tliey swore indifferently by '■ St. Bride of Bothwell" and 
by "St. Bride of Douglas." In the beautiful choir of tlu' old collegiate church, now 
forming part of the church of tin- paii>li, rejioses the dust of chiefs of the name; 

The Clyde.] 



I'lwlu: !■: W. Iknjinuii, llaiiiiWiii. 


and descendants of tlic did race still hold the lands and -woods around IJothwcll 
Castle. In 8t. Bride's too, in 1400, a couple of years after its erection, took place 
in an " unhapi)y hour'' the fateful niarria(>e between David, Duke of Kothesay, and 
Marjory, the daughter of '' Archibald the Grim," Earl of Douglas. A nuire pleasant 
association with Bothwell Church is the birth, in the manse here, of Joanna Baillie, 
the poetess, Avho has preserv^ed in her verse fond remembrances of the " bonnie 
braes" and "sunny shallows'' of the Clyde, where she spent her childhood. 

The left, or Hlantyre, bank of Clyde also has its " stately imag-es of the past." 
The baron}-, which had belonged to Randolph and to " Black Agnes of Dunbar," 
fell, with the Priory lands, to Walter Stewart, the tirst Baron Blantyre, James VI. 's 
old classfellow and favourite, whose descendant still bears the title. Jilantyre Priory 
had in its day sheltered Wallace. They will show you the rock, one of numy, from 
which, in legend, the patriot leajjed to escape his enemies. It was a daughter-house 
of the Abbey of Jedburgh, which, like other great Tweedside monasteries, had a 
retreat in the Clyde, when invading armies crossed the Border. Now the riHed and 
wasted monk's nest is itself besieged by the clamorous army of labour. In a nook 
by the waterside, between it and Bothwell Bridge, David Dale and John IMontcith 
planted their calico-jjrinting and turkey-red works— those IJlantyre mills which 
hav(> since thriven so mightilv, and under whose shadow David Livingstone was 
born. Hlunt^rc village grows to ;i town on the Ijank above, and behind are 

The Clvde.] 



the pit shafts of High Blaiityro, reminding us of one of tlio saddest of colliery 

Escaping from the shadow of BothwelFs braes, our river flows smoothly on 
between widening hauglis and opening prospects within sight of Uddington, where 
Glasgow has planted a colony of villas, l)y a long serpentine sweep past the parks 
and trees of Dalbowie, and so under the steep wooded bluff of Kenmuir, long 
renowned for its wild Howers aiul its " Wedding "Well," to Carmyle, a handet that 


still, in spite of the close neighbourhood of the great city, retains something of 
rural quaintness and simplicity in its rushing mill-dams and its clindjing garden 
ph^ts. Cambuslang is only a mile below, but on the other or southern bank, along 
a reach of river beautifully fiinged by trees — Cambuslang, Avith its high-placed 
church tower, its Kirkton burn bickering down its ravine past the golf-course 
and the ampliitheatre where Whitfield uplifted his voice in the great " Revival 
Wark" of 1742; and with Roscbank, the home of David Dale, on the river front, 
shouldered by dye works and neighboured by the fine new railway bridge over the 

The high ground behind " Cam's'lang," as those name it who know it, is a 
convenient coign from whence to survey the myriad spires and chinnieys of Glasgow; 
for the river makes only a few more great swcejjs through a plain where pleasure- 

358 T!Tl'En>^ OF GHEAT IlHrTMX. [i„e Clm.e 

jrr'»unas altornato with j)iiltli(-- works, before reaching- Kutliergleii— the senior and 
once the rival of Ghisgow — and the Green itself, and disapijearing into St. Mungo"s 
wildeiness of houses and canopy of smoke. 

I'assinf strange it is to one who gazes down from Doclnnont Hill or from the 
Cathkin liraes upon the Clyde losing itself in the murky depths of the great 
citv, whose fog and reek and densely packed masses of dwellings seem to fill the 
vallev, to reflect that the spot was orighiallv chosen as a place suitahle for seclusion 
and calm meditation: that so late as the period of the lieforniatimi (ilasgow was 
a coinitrv town of three or four thousand people. How much nf tlie legendary 
storv of St. Kentigern is founded on fact, none can positively say. lint we can 
certainlv lielieve that he came here and preached to the heathen Britons of Stratli- 
dvde, whose capital, Dumbarton, Avas not far off, and "high jilaces " were 
on the neighljouring hills; that he gathered disciples al)out him, and founded a 
niona.'^terv, after the old ( olumban rule, on the .slopes beside the clear Molendinar 
Burn, something more than a mile above its confluence with the waters of Clyde. 
His .shrine is still the centre of the " Laigh Kirk,'' or crypt of the Cathedral, and 
is. indeed, the nucleus around which have grown not only the ancient and bea\itiful 
church, but also the vast modern citv that bears the name of ]\Iungo " the 
lieloved." It is the seed out of which Glasgow has grown. 

A nui}) of Glasgow in the early part of the seventeenth century shows it to 
have then consisted of little more than two streets cro.>;.sing each other— one running 
at right angles to and the other parallel with the course of the Clyde — together with 
a few tributary vennels and closes, and with ''kailyards" rendering upon tlie open 
fields. The former thoroughfare, as the Saltiiiurkct and llii;'li Strci't. cliuibcd the 
slope to the Metropolitan Church and the Bishop's Castle ; the other diverged to 
right anil left as the Gallowgait and the Trongait, which latter extended as far 
as the jnecincts of the cliurch, croft, and well of St. Tenu- — transmogrified by time 
and wear into St. Knoch's — in the line of the present Argyll Street. At the 
intersection were the ^lercat Cross and the Tolbooth, prison and council chamber 
in one. The was, accordinglv, the centre of the conmierce and of the 
municipal authority of Old (Jlasgow. Tln' vt'iierablc Tolbooth and Cross Steeples 
still look down upon a busy scene. Still arc tlic\- redolent of tlu' nieniori(>s of the 
citizens and the burgh life of former tiuii's: spite of change, they continue to be 
hamited by the spirit of IJailie Xicol .larvie picking his way along the street, 
accomitanied by his lass and lantern, to visit Francis ( )sbaldistone bclilnd prison 
walls, and of (Japtain Paton's Xcll\' bringing an ingredient of that hero s )iun(h 
from the West Tort W'cU. 

Halfway between the and the Cathedral, on the west .side of a thorough- 
fare which three hundred years ago was accounted spacious and even stately, weii' 
the ol<l College Ihiildings, where the Uiiiver.sity. founded in 1 I'lii, was boused until, 
a (piarter of a century ago, the intrusion of the railway and otiiir consiileiations 
nuule it Hit to more .spkndid and .salubiious ipiarters at Gilmorehill. 



111 tliis oldest core of Old fllasgow, there arc but few relies left of its buildings 
and iiioiiuiiiei.its of early times. The Cathedral is the chief; and, happily, the 
gT(>y shape of this grand old Gothic pile remains t(j put to shame evxn the 
finest of the modern edifices of which Glasgow is so 2)roud. It is, like most 
other minsters, of many dates ; but there is great harmony as well as dignity Ijoth 
in its exterior and interior aspect, its style being mainly that of the First Pointed, 
or Early Decorated, period. Only a fragment, in the crvpt or lower church, is suj)- 
posed to remain of the building with which Bishop Joscelin T'lO years ago rejjlaced 
the previous edifice of wood. Within, the solemn grandeur of the lofty groined 
roof, and the long receding array of arches of the nave, chancel, and choir of the 
High Kirk, with the perspective closed by the magnificunt east window, awe all 
beholders. But still more impi'essive are the wonderful clusters of jiillars, the low- 
browed arches, and the dim and obscure "religious light" of the crypt underneath. 
" There are finer minsters in the kingdom than Glasgow,'' says Dr. Marshall Lang, 
the present minister of the Barony Parish, " Ijut tliere is none with a finer crypt." 
In the centre of the darkling maze is the shrine of St. Mungo, the position of 
which, in the sloping- ground falling eastward towards the Molendiiiar, is the key 
to the constvuction of the churcli. After the Reformation, the cryjit became tlie 
Laigh Bai'ony Church bef(n'e there was set up, in the Cathedral green without, 
what Dr. Norman Macleod, one of its later incumbents, called " the Temple of 
Ugliness," which lias in its turn given place to the handsome structure that is 
the parish churcli of the old r)isliop's Barony. The famous Dr. Zachary iioyd 
■ — he who, in the Higli ("hurcli above, railed at Cromwell to his face — was 
minister for nearly thirty years in the Laigh Barony ; and from behind its pillars 
Rob Roy spoke his warning word into the ear;^ of the English stranger. 

While Time and reforming zeal — aided by the voices and pikes of the citizens 
of the day — have spared to us St. Mungo's Church, the fortress-like Bishop's 
Palace and the " Manses " of the thirty preliends and other ecclesiastics have 
been swept away, along with memorials of earlier and later date; St. Roche's 
Chapel, in the fields to the 
north, now flaunts a smoky 
jjennon as St. Rollox ; 
the high ground of the 
" Craigs," or the "Fir 
Park," across the once 
limpid fronting burn — wliere 
St. Columba is fabled to 
have met St. Kentigei'n — 
is covered with the thicket 
of headstones and obelisks 
of the Necropolis, grouped 
about Knox's monument. 


nirnns of great nurriry. 

[TnK Ci.YiiK 

ncK [^p. abS). 

iiiid li(.l(U tlic (lust of sonic (»i' llic l)est and most distin-uishrd oi' ( ilas-ow's sons; 
tlio .Mok'iidiiiar itself lias liecn liuiicd IVoni sidit and smell n<inc too soon. 

liftiirning' to tlio lower end of what was once the main tliorou^lifare of the 
(Jlasiiow of old, the J}riggait — once a busy centre of the citN^s connneicc — led to 
tiio riverside and what was long the solo bridge connecting the north and south 
banks of the Clyde. Stockwcll Street also gave aceess to it from the Trongait. 
Only in the early "fifties was the ancient stont" stnicturc, which had stood for live 
centuries and whii-h ligures ])romineiitly in old views of (ilasi^dw from Uu" Clvde, 
reiilaced by the prest^nt ^'ictoria ]hid--e. .Nine other briilges. including two 
susj)ension bri(l;:cs tor foot-i)a.ssengers and three tinat railwav viaducts, now span 
the stream within the city bounds. All of them have spiimg up within the last 
fifty years; and the traflic iK'tween baidc and bank has re(|uired. besides, the 
burnjwing under the river-bed of sid)ways and midergnnuid lines, and the con- 
nection of liank and bank by steam and other ferries. Chief among tlu'se biidges, 
as channels of connnci'ce and intercourse - what London liridiic is to the 
.Mi'trojjolis— is the "roaring lane" of the Jamaica Street llridge. 'i"he line 
structure inuuediately lielow it, cairies the Caledonian liiu" across from the 
)'.ridge Street to the Cenlial Station, marks the limits of navigation for all luit 
the .smaller kind of river-craft; bn- heic Chde ma\ be saiil to nieruc into 



Glasgow Harbour, and a now and almost last ehaj^tcr in its career opens at the 

There was a time when Kutlierglen reckoned itself a seaport, and when 
fishermen drew shoals of salmon from the clear-flowing Clyde, and spread their 
nets on Glasgow Green. Such sights have long ceased to he witnessed; and the 
Camlachie Burn no longer wimples in the face of day between alder-covered 
banks tlirough the flat riverside meadow to join the Molendinar and the Glvde. 
But "the Green'' renuiins tlie most famous and most prized of the city's ojjen 
spaces: it is the central ''lung" of Glasgow. If not in fashionable surround- 
ings, in its functi<in as a safety valve for popular enthusiasm and excitement it 
is the Hyde I'ark of the Second City of the Empire. In it great political and 
religious gatherings have been and still are held ; here do the East-enders throng 
and l^ask in holiday time, and here have been seen also riot and rejoicing, and 
events of note in the history of the municipalitv, the kingdom, and even of the 
world. To mention the greatest of all, did not the epoch-making idea of the 
steam-engine flash through the brain of James Watt as he took a Sunday 
ramble, thouglitful and solitar^", on the Green, near the Humane Societv's qiuirters, 
where afterwards Lamljort, "hero and niartvr," achieved his wonderful rescues 
from drownino-y Did not the Regent Morav's arnn' liere cross the Clvde to 

1■AI^[.LY {//. .j(J6 



[The Cltde. 

intercept and disporso Marv Stuart's adluM-ents at Lan<rsido? And did not Prince 
Cliarlio— an un\volct)nic iruest in Wliiggish — review his Higldanders in the 
Flesher's IIau<rh ? 

At the time oi the Pretender's visit, the era of Glasgow's eonnnereial 
prosperity — the reigii of the "tobacco dons" and tlie " suyar dons," who 
preceded the "cotton hmls " and tlie present reijinin<r dvnastv (if the "iron 
kings " — was only opening. Tlie cui-rent of the city's business life had already 
begun to turn aside from the channel of the High Street, in order to run 
jiai-allel with the river, along the line of the Trongait and Argyll Street, to 
aljsorb little suburl»an villages, to overflow the neiglibouring fields, and by-and-by 
to swallow up, one by one, the mansions of its merchant ])rinces. l!ut when the 
present century opened, the town could boast of nuly some 80,0()l) inhaltitants. 
The Saracen's Head in the Gallowgate was still the cliief place of entertainment; 
there Dr. Johnson housed on his return from his Hebridean tour, and Ihuus 
was also among its guests. Queen Street a hundred years ago had not so 
long ceased to be the Cow Loan through which tlie citizens drove out tlieir 
COW.S tr) pasture; and George Square, when the century was young, was a retired 
park, with trees and turf and shrubberies, surrttunded by the piivate dwellings of 
a few city magnates. 

To this once rural spot the centre of interi-st and autliority of Modern 

III >II1AI1T0N IKHK ( p. SCiG). 

The Clyde] "GREATER GLASGOW." 303 

Glasgow has now flitted ; and here the city has set up its Valhalla. In the 
heart of the Square a statue of Sir Walter Scott towers on its high pedestal ; 
and surrounding it are ranks of other monuments — equestrian statues, and figures 
erect and seated : among them those of Sir John Moore and Lord Clyde, both 
of them "Glasgow callants '' who won for their native city war laurels to 
place beside its trophies of peaceful industry; and of Thomas Canqjbell, the poet, 
wlio was born in the High Street, within a stonecast of the old College 
Buildings. Chief of the public edifices that face the Square are the new 
Municipal Buildings, in which, after several shiftings from the venerable Tolbooth, 
the City Fathers have set up theii' gods. The foundation stone of this nu^gnificent 
pile was laid in October, 1883, and it has cost the town nearly £000,000. 
Here would be a convenient standpoint whence to survev the more recent spread 
and growth of the city, were this a description of Glasgow instead of a glance 
down the course of the Clyde. From George Square as a centre, a radius of fully 
two and a half miles would now be required in order to draw a circle embracing 
the whole area of the city. In that space, and included within the municipal 
boundaries, is a population which in 1891 numbered 65(3,000. But the circle 
would enclose also the police liurghs of Govan, Partick, and Kinning Park, 
which, although partially surrounded by Glasgow, and essentially a part of the 
same urban community, have separate municipal organisations. Adding these and 
the suburban villages and populous areas attached to, but outside the cir- 
cumference of, the city, and making allowance for the growth of five rears, we 
have a greater ''geographical Glasgow" which Sir James Bell and Mr. Paton, 
in their recent work, estimate to contain no fewer than 900,000 souls. So tliat 
since the beginning of the century the increase has been something like tenfold in 
population ; while in wealth, in trade, and in tlie nudtiplication of the resources 
of civilisation, its progress has been, perha^JS, still more marked. 

The classic but now much-befouled Kelvin is at its mouth the boundary 
between the city and the adjoining burgh of Partick; and when it passes this 
point the Clvde leaves Glasgow territory behind it, without, however, escaping 
from tlie s])here of its administrative authority. Very different is this straight, 
broad highway of commerce — lined by quay walls and wet and graving docks, 
bv shipbuilding yards and boiler-sheds, by factories, timljcr depots, and railway 
sidings, Ijurdened with craft innumerable, and overlumg by the shapes of great 
iron vessels (the pride of Glasgow and the Clyde) in every stage of construc- 
tion — from the stream that winds and gleams like a serpent between its green 
banks only a few miles above. The ojjposing shores send up a perpetual din 
of ii'on smiting upon iron : the deafening and yet, to the understanding ear, 
inspiriting sound of the Clyde's most famous industry — that of shipbuilding. The 
broad tide of waters is churned by paddles and propellers innumerable. It is 
nniddv and evil-smelling, for Glasgow has not repaid its debt to the Clyde with 
gratitude, and still makes its river the receptacle of its sewage and garbage. All 

3U4 nrrEiiS of gee at buttatn. [The cltm. 

this, liowever. is tn Itc fli;iiii::o(l : already the cxpenmont of scwacrt^ purification 
lias been for some years in ojieration at l>alniarnoc'k, and sliortlv a sclienie 
intended to embrace the whole north side of Glaspow will be at work on 
p-ound purchased by the Corporation at Dalmuir. some miles down the river. 
So that in time trout may venture back to Kelvin, and the " statclv sahnon" 
it.self be seen<;- in the sandbanks opjjosite the Broomielaw, or stennnin<;- the 
'^ amber-coluurcd Clyde,"' once more ])ure and sweet as well as "beneficent and 

(,)ften the channel itself is iliokcd with mist and overhung with smoke ; and 
vessels and houses loom vaguely through the haze, or stand out in staitling relief 
against their dim background when the sun nu;nages to send his shafts through 
the mist and to light up river and shipping. Nowhere are there such sunsets to 
be seen as in this nun-ky and rainy and dinsomc clime of Glasgow Harbour. 

To embark on l)oard one of the river-steamers at the Broomit'law is a con- 
venient mode of surveying what remains to be .seen of the river and its sur- 
roundings. Steei'ing down-stream by the broad and deep channel between the 
lines and thickets of masts and funnels of the craft nu)ored to either bank, or 
assembled in the great dock basins, there is i)lenty of time to reflect on the 
changes that have come over the .scene, even since Campbell dejjlored that 
Nature's face was banished and estranged from the "once romantic shore of his 
native Clyde," and the face of Heaven was no more reflected in its soot- 
begrimed waters — 

" Tliat for the daisied greensward, down thy stream 
Unsightly brick-lanes smoke and clanking engines gleam." 

The days wlien the river could be forded at high-water opposite Govan 
I'oint, and when a voyage up or down stream was a series of bumjiings from 
.shoal to .shoal, .seem almost as far removed from our own as the date of 
the canoes of our remote ancestors that have l)een found embedded in the 
ooze of the channel in the course of dredging operations. Yet they belong to 
the i)re.sent century : and even after Henry Bell's Conicf inaugurated steam 
navigation by making her runs between Greenock and (ilasgow, the better part 
of a day has Ijcen known to be .spent on the trip. In the of a century 
and half .some .sixteen millions have been .spent on widening, deepening, and 
straightening the channel and improving the har1)our acconnnodation of Gla.sgow ; 
and the revenue of the Clyde Navigation Trust now reaches about £400,000 
annually. As the fruit of all this exi)enditure. the Trust can jxiint to the long 
lines of (piay walls and the magnificent Queen's and Govan Docks, and to a bnnul 
and .straight waterway which, from Gla.sgow Bridge to i'ort (Jla.sgow. has a 
unifonn deptli of -JS feet at hiyh tide. 

Even fifty years ag(t l)r. .Macdonald coidd write of Govan as "a still rural- 
lofiking villag<'," to which the denizens of St. Mungo resorted on Sundays, after 
the skailing of the kirk.s, to "snulf the caller air" by the waterside; and of 

The Clyde.] 



Pavtiok, on the ()])posite bank, us an '• old-fasliioned town witli a pleasant half- 
rural aspect,'' also in repute as a holida3--re.sort on account of the " salubrity of 
its air." Now, these adjuncts of (rlasgow. with the adjoininu' Whiteinch, are; Aiidicii; luuii'j, L,u„l 

LOCH LOMOND (p. 367) 

world-famous as the headquarters of Clyde shipbuilding. From the Govan, Fair- 
field, and Linthouse yards, on the south side, and from the Finnieston, Point- 
house, Meadowbank, and Whiteinch slips, on the north bank, have been launched 
some of the largest and finest vessels — mercantile craft and ships of war — that 
have ever put to sea. Dwelling-houses and public works have spread over the 
ground behind, so that little is left of the "rural" or " lialf-rural " villages of 
the 'fifties. Yet Govan has its spacious breathing-space in the Klder Park, and 


elms still sliadc the ancient Celtic crosses and nioninnents in its parish kirkvard; 
Partick still Ixirders on Kelvin Grove: and Wliiteincli lioasts, in its \'ictoriii 
Park, of a "Fossil Grove"' of more hoar anti(iuil\ than Runic crosses, or the 
pre) list one canoes of Govan. 

Clyde, as it moves majestically away from the stir and clantidur of tlie water 
fronts of Govan and Partick, bejiins slowly to open what Wilson, the descriptive 
poet of the stream, calls an '' amjder mirror" to the skv and tlic ohjects on the 
hanks. Its shores resume something; of their old romance and rusticity as we come 
al)reast of the woods and lawns of Klderslie and of Blvtlieswood. Behind them is 
the ancient huriili of Kenfrew — once a fishiiiL; ])ort and the rival of (Jlasiiow — which, 
as ])art of the earliest heritage of the High .Stewards, gives the title of Baron of 
IJenfrew to the lleir Ai)parent. Further liack is the romantic valhn' of the White 
Cart, that flows under GlenifPer Braes and through the liusy town ol' Paisley — birth- 
place of poets, bm-ial-place of kings, and metropolis of thread niainifactures — to 
meet the Black ( 'art at Inchinnan, and entir the Clyde at tlu" '• Water Xelj." 

Opposite, on the busier right hank of the river, are the factories and building- 
yards of Yoker and Clydebank; below these, Dahnuir and its ])urification works; and 
lower down, beyond Erskine Ferry, the houses of old Kilpatrick and of Bowling — 
its little harbour filled with craft, new and ancient — facing the fine lawns and 
woods that surround Lord Blantyre's beautiful mansion of Erskine House. Here, 
where under the rough and furrowed spurs of tla^ Kilpatrick Hills the Highlands 
meet the Lowlands; where the I'^orth and Clyde ('anal joins tlie tide-water, and the 
line of ''Grime's Dyke" (the Konian wall of Anlonine) lound its westiTU term; 
here where, according to legend, Patrick, the a]iostle of Ireland, was born and spent 
his childhood — we might lay down the limits of Kiver and Firth. ( h- passing the 
ancient castle of Dunglass and the ford inider the Hill of Dumbnck. which was 
the great obstacle to Clyde navigation, it might be found in that grandest of 
landmarks, the Kock and Castle of Dmnbarton, 91 miles from th(> source of the 
Clydes Burn, and loil miles from the taproot of the Daer. 

'i'he lofty isolated double-headed crag sentinels alike the channel of the Clvde 
and the valley of the Leven, and mounts guard over the ancient and still thriving 
Ijurgh at its, once the capital of the Britons of Strathclydc and for a thousand 
years the refuge and defence of kings. On the crown or at the basi' of the Kock 
many .strange scenes in Scottish history have been enacted. From Dumbarton 
fjueen Mary, a child of six, .set sail for France to w(>d the Dauphin; and to the 
friendly .shelter of its castle .she was hastening when — 

" Fnmi till' toj) (if :ill liiT trust 
i"\Iisfortuiii' laid her in the dust." 

The town ha.s still its great shipbuilding industry, its shi|)ping trade, and its 
foundries and turkey-red and other manufactories. Some of the ojil hoiiso n'main, 
along with a fragment of its collegiate church. Other bold hills beside the Castle 

Tiir. Clyde.] 



Ivock overlook it, and tlie broad and smooth Leven — liarbonr and river — divides it 
into two parts. The view northwards from the Kock carries the eye thron<ih the 
wide and beautifully-wooded vista of the Leven valley into the heart of the Highlands. 

The pyramid of Ben Lomond, buttressed by Ptarmigan Hill, is the presiding 
shape. But a score of other peaks are huddled behind and around it. Below can 
be traced the folds of the hills that sheltered Rob Roy, and over against it the 
glens of the Colquhoun country tliat witnessed the prowess and revenge of the 
Wild Macgregors. Loch Lomond, the queen of our northern lakes, with its lovely 
archipelago of islands, is spread between. Loch Lomond, too, is tributary to the C'lyde, 
and all the waters that tumble through its glens, from Ardlui to Balloch Pier, 
including the fine stream of the Endrick, which drains the heart of the Lennox, 
and flows past Buchanan House, the seat of the great famih" of jMontrose, are 
poured by the Leven past Smollett's old home of Bonhill, and past tlic busy 
manufacturing towns of Alexandria and Renton, to the foot of Dumbart(in Rock. 

The prospect commanded by the southern side of the Rock is hardly less grand, 
and has infinitely more of movement and space and variety. AVinding into view 
from out of its coverts of smoke, and under its shadowing heights, comes the great 
river which in its westward course here opens up into the dimensions of a firth ; 
and beyond it the fertile plains and valleys, the busj^ towns and villages, and the 
bare enclosing hills of Renfrew, are spread out like a map. The deep-Avater channel 
of the Clvde is marked not alone by the line of red buoys and beacons, but by the 
craft of all nations ami all sizes, from the dredger to the huge floating palace of 
the ocean-going passenger steamer, that are continually plying up or down on it. 

As the eve travels westward the shores expand and grow dim. But the houses, 
shipping, and shipbuilding yards of Port Glasgow, and the long line of timber lying 
off its sea front, are well in view, and beyond them the thicker pall of smoke and 
the more densely packed masses of dwellings, chimney stalks, and masts that pro- 
claim tlie whereabouts of Cartsdvke and' Greenock. 



[TllK Clviie. 

One has to embark and pass this ding:y and crowded side of the birthplace of 
James Watt — the harbour, the docks, and the sliij)buiUlin^f yards, tlu' custuiii liouse, 
the steamboat quavs, the handsome classic fa(,'ade and tower of its Miinicii)al 
IJuilding-s. and the bnlk of the many spires and steeples that rise anionu' the masses 
of houses which climl) the hillside — before seeing the fairer and more ojjcn face 
which (irecnock presents to those approachin;^' it from the west. rx-yond I'ri)ic(>'s 

I'icr stretch wide esplanades, lined with trees, lashed with saltwater, and blown 
upon bv salt breezes; and Iiehind and above these are Ijroad and Iiandsonie stre(>ts and 
lioidevards, asr-endin;r in tlie sleeper sidi's of llie ( 'raii:' and llie \\liin Hill, un whose 
airy heights the town has plante<l ils cemetery, golf course, pulilic p;irk. niid water 
works. Hevond Fort Matilda is the semii-ircular sweej) of (ioiiinck llin, tlironged 
with vaclits and lineil with villa residences, wliieb siretcli on under the base and 
rouml tlie corner of llie headland, crowned b\ a frauiueiit of (iourock ('astle, 
towards the ( 'Incji l,iL;lil. the lieaeon mI tlii' inner waters of the I'irth. 

In mifl-lirtli, ojipositt; Prince's I'ier, is the "Tail t>\' the Mank" the station oT 
the gnard.ship, the anehorage of vessels preparing to ascend the river ny put oiit to 
»ea. Opposite, the dark-wocdeil heaillainl ul' Ardniore projects inti> the estuar\-. and 
lower down the l»caiitiful glades and tree-clad slnpes surioinidlng the (Jrecian front 
of the Duke of Argyll's niansictii rise genth Ironi the water to the bare ridge of 

The Clyde.] 



the peuinsvila of Eoseneath. Between these opens tlie Gare Loch — perhaps tlie 
most charming nook in all the windinp- waters of the ('Ivde— with CVaigendoran 
Pier and Helensbm'gh on its lip. How in its narrow throat, and Shandon and a 
string of other seaside retreats in its inner recesses. Behind this tlie peaks that 
momit watch over Loch Lomond, Loch Long, and waters yet more distant — Ben 
Lomond, Ben Vorlioh, The Cobbler, the rugged mass of " Argyll's Bowling Green,'' 
and far Ben Cruachan among them — stand up in the evening light in purple and 
gold. Nearer at hand are lower heights that surround the Holy Loch and guard 
the entrance to the inner Firth ; at their feet are rank upon rank of fine seaside 
residences and favourite watering-places, to which the crowds in populous city pent 
rush for fresh air and recreation. All these and other scenes lying beyond, in the 
outer vestibule of the Firth — the Shores of Cowal and Ayrshu-e; the Cumbraes ; 
Rothesay, and the windings of the Kyles of Ihite ; and, well seen from the neighbour 
island, the rugged peaks and corries of Arran — are fringes of Greater Glasgow, and 
creatures of the Clyde. John Geddie. 


Abbot'n Worthr. 15 

A'- ; Mi 

Al- r.- -,. I.. !:■• 

Al«r>»twiih : DfvilK Britlgr^ Castle, «nil Univcr- 

►iiv Collciie, IIH), 192 
Abini:t«n, 3U The, 10. II 
Afon, Thr, 155 
Af.m Cydi. Til.-, 1S7 
AiU> Cr^s. 331 
Ainis Jloss aiiil tlic ileatli of Ricliard Canicmii, 

AliixandFre. The. S>-»t of. 334 

Al(r-\ 111- (;:...t .III tlictuiplism otGilllirilln, IVS; 
•111- Danes, 6S, CO: at,.\ llie 
i -le .if Atheluey, 70 ; liis Beet 

a; ■r IheSlour, S 

Ambleside, -i^l 

Ali-'l.- .. "l-T "' 

1 at Roscneath of, 3(S.S 

'lictiiie iniiii- 
- of Jaiiiea 

I'.iin, 15iJ ; Kni|;hts 

. . .1 ; MerlinVGnilto,, U>5 ; ajwociatiun with 

niiitoii, 75 ; Bath, it..'; history, abbey, and 
views of the river and bridged, 76-78 ; Brist*d, 
liirthplaee of Cabot, Southev. and Cliattcrton. 
St. Mary RedclilTe. 78; Bristol Cathedral, 
" The Chasm,"' Clifton Suspension Bridge, 71* ; 
the lower reaches, site of the Roman station 
AUma, 73, SO ; Avoumontli, 81 

Avon. The Upper or WarM-icksliire: Sonrce, Nase- 
by, 107; Kunbv, the Swift. Lutterworth and 
Wiulif, Covcntrv. Stoneleigli Abbev, Kcnil- 
wortll. Uaiilingt'.n, 10s ; Warwick Cistle 
and Chui-ch, Ho; stratforvl- and Shakespeare. 
IIO-IH; Eve.shani and its ablx-v, death of 
Simon de Montf.irt. 114. 116 : I'ersbore Church. 
11.1 ; Tewkesburv rhur.h, 11.'., 117; battle of 
Tewke.<bun-, 117. lis 

Avonniouth. 81 

Axe, The Devonshire, 27 

Axe, The Somersetshire, 71 

Aymer de Valence, and the defence of Clydesdale, 

Ayr. The, 330 ; in the poetry of Bums, 331 ; 
Priesthill and Muirkirk, 332 ; scenerv at Soni, 
333; Sorn Castle, 333; Catriiie House and 
village, Ballochmyle, Mossgiel, Muuchline, 
Uarvkimming Brid,;e and House, 334 ; the 
Castle o' Mont;;omerie and "Highland Mar>','' 
Stair, Enterkin, Gad.sgirth, Coylton, 33.'. ; 
Auchoncmive and Craigie, 337 ; l..aiglan, 337, 
3:iS ; A}T tomi, 338. 339 

A.vr towni: Viewed from Laiglan. S3S ; the two 
bridgt-s. 338 ; remnant of undent buildings, 
mi>lern buildings, andsnburbs, 33t> 

Ayrsbin;'. Tin* rivers and scenery of, General 
features of, 32S-331 

74, 76 ; Priory uf 

Bacon, Francis, and LiveriKKil, 2l>7 

liad:;worthy Water, The, 35 

Baillie, .l.iaiina, Birthplace of, 355 

Bala Liike. 230 

Hal.lwiii, Archbishop, at Rbaddlan, 22(i 

Baliol. .iohn, 31'.> 

Baliols, The, Oistleof. 340 

Rilliol College, Oxford, and the mother of John 
lialiol, 3i:i 

BalliKhmyle, 334 

Uampton. Su 

Ikingor-on Uci?, 230 

Barle, The, 29 

Bannouth, 2U2, 203 

Barnstaple, 30, 4«>, 47 

Barniw, 2S8 

Barrow, BisI 


Barton a.iunlnct and locks, 254 

Basiligwerk Al.tny, 240 

Bass K.ick, :t4.> 

Bath : Names given to it. 74 ; b«in*^y of a]>proach 
from the cast, Beau Xash, growth, bridges over 
Uie Avon. 75 ; the Skew Bridge. Abbey Church, 
71! ; Twerton an.l Kiel.ling, 7ii, 77; Kelstnn 
Hound Hill, views of the Avon, 77 

llalhenn, The, 30 

Battle, 7 

BcJicns, Tlle, 150. 152, 150-1(11 

Uc^aulleu AbU'V, 20 

IJeatilleli river,' The, 20 

Be.'kford fH.llection at Hamilton Palace, 353 

|t,.|.l,,r..|..rt. 'WM 

lt..i..,i..„,,„. ,. 

liirthplaee ..f. 01 

.puot, and the c^iptnrc of Slire 

IN of. 207, 20S 

hblahoi', an.l Truio Cathedral, 04 

Berkeley Castle. 122. 123 

Berthon lionts. 10, 20 

Berwvn hills, 232 

Bethe.sda, 208, 200 

Bettws-v-Coed. 212, 213 

Beult, The. 3 

Bewillev, 102 

Biekleigh Bridge, 31 

Biekleigh Vale, 50 

Bideford, its antiquitv, bridge, and U\f^ Grei 
48, 40 

Biggar, Plain of 845 

Birchinfrton 6 

" Bird Koek " on the Dyssnmi, 107 

Birkenhead : Rjiilway to Liverpool. 2<»ri ; 1: 
stages and Docks, 207 ; shipbuilding 
I» during the century. ]ioi*nIatioi 
liamentary reiiresciitation, tramways. 

Bishops Sutton. 14 
Bishops Tawton. 4fi 
Bish.»psl>ourne Cliure! 
Biss. Thi - 


nd Bishop Hooker, 

.berry. 345 

Black M.>untains, The, and the rise of the Usk, 149 
Bl.ack Prince and Rhnddlan Castle, 220 
Black Rock, «5 

Bl;u'kstone.e<lge Reservoirs, 244 
Bladenoch, The : Wigtown martyrs, 325, 326 




r Sclnxil of, 30 

h.ifren, 84 
Blantvre Priorv, S54, 355 
Blantvre Town, 3.'>5 
Bleas.'lale Moor, 270 
Blundell, Peter, Gran 
Boiiinnoc Ferry, (.2 
BoltondeSands, 281} 
l!.>ldnll, 3tl7 
Btnnington House, 3.50 
Boniiington Linn, 347, 348 
Bothwell. visiteil by .Mary Queen of Scots at 

Il.rmitage Castle. 314 
Bothwell Bridge, 353, :154 
H..thwell Castle, 354 
I H..Vfy, The, 30 

B.iw.ller. Dr. Thomas. Bnriali.lacc of, 17i". 
H.iwland Forest, 274, 270 
Bowling, 3(lt', 

Boxbnx.k, Tlic, 75 
Bi.yd. Dr. Zaehar>-,s 

BraekenKink. 3(11". 

id the I-aigh Baiv.ny Chureh, 

nl»r. 11 
I. The. 17S 

IklilluU, .. 
Ueutball Edge, Mi 

I an.l its associati(.ns, 204 

llrathav. The, 201 

Braxliul.l, 3.'<l 

Brav. The, 20 

BreckiMiek Beacons, 150. 1.52, UO-lfil 

Urccon : Picturesque situation and t-'hurchvanl'il 
vers(«, 1.50 ; history of the castle, birlliphice 
of Mrs. Siddons, Church of St. John, 151 

Brede, The, 7 

Bn.idden Hills, The, 87 

Bn.ndon Water. The, 35 

llri.lgmirth, 00, 100 

llri.lgwater: Manufacture of luith brick, 70, 71 ; 
Admiral Blake, St. Mans Church, 71 

Bright. .n. II 

Bristol : Birihplace ofCalKrt, Soulhev, and Chal- 
lert..M. c.minierce, first bridge over the Avon, 
Ht Mary He.lcliire, 7.S; Chattert. ill's foiveries 
and moliiuiienl, 7.s. 70 ; Castle. Cnlh«lral, and 
busts of .l..«e].li llutler. .Siuthey. and Mary 
t'ar|ienter, ll.>aling harlNinr. "The Chaain," 
Clirton Sns|iensioli Bridge, 711 

Broadstaim, 6 

Bnwclcy, 00 



Broiighton Gifionl Virook, 74 

KlsSm Hall a„.l the seal of the Commou- 

BrTO"'R''.lS-t, ami Ann.a.Klale, 318 ; his dispute 

with tlie Red Cmii\n, 319 
Brae, The, Tl 
Brydges, Sir Egerton, 6 
Buchanan House, 367 
Buckfastleigh, 41, 42 
Buckland Abbey, 46 
Buildwas Abbey, OS, 9i> 
Builth, 130 

Burgh-nu-the-Sands, 310 
Buniliam, 71 
BS?ns?Robtrt, at Dumfries, 319; and Lincluden 


',„"i il,<. i.lriiriini 1 niiilv. ■■■Jl ; and the nvers 
•Jli.l 'rriirvy nl A>r~liM>. i-M, 331, 334, 335, 

Bute.'MavquesVof, and the C;u-diff Docks, 100 

ilfSSthe'mannfacture of the first oannon.lO 

Cabot, Sebastian. Biithplaee o 

Cadbury Castle, 31 

Cade. Jaek, 3 

Cader Idris. 197, 200, io:! 

Cadzow Castle, 3.M, 3o4 

Caerlaverock Castle and thi 

Chippenham, 73 
Chirk Castle, 234, 235 

aScImclK Saln.on-fishing, chinxh, and Shel- 
ley n;eni(>rial, 22 

Chnr'hv'nL n,.. , t. on the situation of Brecon^ 

i-,u- nil thr \'.i\i- of Clwyd, 223; and \alie 
Ou.'i^ M.i"v ■';■:;; on the waters of the Dee, 
■>r; ■ ■m'\ iMI,.'s lu'ke, 235 

Clnv>-niu, lb.-, 130 

Cilhcpsle I'-all, The, ITO 

Claerwen. Tlie, 127 

"Clam" Bridge over the Wall.-ibro,ik, 3S 

Cl.apdale Ravine, 2S2 

Clare, Richard, Earl of, Murder of, lo3 

Cleghorn, Roma 
Cietvvrs. The tw. 

Maxwell family, 

, 321 

Caerleou,' its splendour in Roman times, A 
tSan legends, university and bishopric, lo 

Caersws fortress in Roman times, 86 | 

Cain, The, 202 

Cairntable, 332 

Calder, Tlie (Lancashire), 2i9 

Caldew, The, 307 

Cale. The, 23 „ . , ,., 

Caledonian Forest, Remaius of, 3o3 

Calstock, 513 

Cambiislang, 357 

Cambusnethan, 353 

Camel, The, 54 

Camlan, The, 202 

Camlan, Farmhouse of, 195 

Canford Hall, 23 

Canonbie, 314, 315 

Canterbury and its associations, J, 4 

Capcl Curig, 210 

Cardil?'; Wa?4r^supply, 162; Castle, ma-fon of 
U,e Marquis of Bute, 166; docks, streets, and 
exhibition, 166, 167 

^^"Bampfylde Moore, the "King of the 
Be""ars." 31 . , . i 

Carew" CasVli', its hi^toricil associations and 

C.-iip l.i'iii^\- '^'^;,|j,^;';,„., ,,y y,e Xorthmen, the 
■"^ ,>.:'■„:■ \,u.-< by Mrs. Sigourn 
I I I 1 I I lie oath enjoined 

|, ,, I w - :j19, 310; " Kinmont Willie ■ 
,1 1 ,, :;ii), 311; execution of Jacob 

'. " -V' ■ . .;li''dral, 312 

;, Birthplace of, 319 


, Tho 

Carlylt . 

Carmarthen^ 79, SO 

Can;ar™n,^Toivn and Castle of, 206, 219 

Carnforth, 285 

Carrick Road estuary, Oo 

Carron, The, 318 

Carstairs, 345 

Cartland Crags, 350 

Cartmel Peninsula, 2!)& 

Cartsdyke, 367 

Cassilis and the Kennedys, 340 

Castell Coch, 164 

Ctstle Head (or A terpite Castle), 288 

Cistler?-- Top, View of Lakeland from, 299 

r'-iton The Vale of. The poet Gray on 2S2 

fiatrtae 332, 334 1 and the visit of Burns to 

Dugald Stewart, 334 
Cefn Carnedd, British earthwork, So 

Ceiriog, The, 234 

Cenarth, 187 

Cessnock, The, 334 

Ceunant Mawr, 205, 20b 

Chagford, 38 

Chariecote and Sir Thomas Lucy, 111 

Chartists, Attack on Newport of, lob 

Chatterton, his birthplace, forgeries, and monu- 
ment, 78, 79 

Chepstow, 146, 147 

cheriton. Defeat of the Royalists at, 15 

Chfster: Anthiuity, "Rows," walls, Cathedrals 

Chettam! Humphrey, and Chetham College, 251 
ChiUingham cattle, 2,4 

bridge at, 351 
, 1S7 

.1 Kiis.amond, 132, 133 
I .i.Mieto, 289 

V Khuddlan, 223-226; junction 

■,',;i'.rtaiir,>. thi' j,n;, Illation and 

11 bi^iii ni'l \;ni<tv of scenes 

"... .' „,;,, ,11,1 <;,nie of its 

', ;■ :,';- ,i„. ■ -,:, .it hills" or 

Conibrook, The, 240 

Corra Linn. 348, 349 „, ^ 

Corwen and associations of Owen Glendower, 

230, 231 
Coteliele House, 58 
Cotehill, 306 
Cothi, 179 
Ci.initi^s ■\ ?.\ 
riiiiill, M Hi'l IbiirvV., 13S 
Cn iii.i-i i;mI„ii '.lilest son of the Conqueror, 

tiiiiiliiii i.l"iHi-ster Cathedral, 122 
Coventry, los 
Covington, 345 

S^^osSul Madame Patti, 1,7, 1-8 
Craige'ndoraii, 369 
rraigenpnttoek, 318 
Craigie. 337 
Ciai-ni-than Castle, 351 

!i;'lak.s'The,'*'29'3; and Coniston Water, Brantwood 

and (ierald Massey, 294 
(Vuiuli i' ii'id his palare at Bcke.sbourne, 6 

CiaiiiiMP r-'l. :■-. 41,45 

,,,!■' 11, i:' Scenery near Newton Sjewait and 
1,; 1,1 .,. 323 ; the "Cruives of Cree," 323, 324 

I'lrnlv, liie, 31 

Ciewkeriie, 67 

Crickhowell, 153 of,,,.;,.., i,v 

Crockett, Mr., Scenes of some of the stouts uj, 

"ill Oliver, and the siege of Pembroke 
,si 1, ' 1^ ; <tatiie at Manchester, 250 ; Grey- 

i,,l,r riisih :-;o7; at Ayr, 339 
luill Mr ilii hard, and Neath Abbey, li2 


most majestic daiighte: . 
the Douglas Water, 347 ; 
and " Wallace Chair." sr.u 

I I ,1 !•. -hail 

I rl,.|,;lli| nf 

; Hamilton 
II. 353; Cad- 
.if the Cale- 
11.-. :;:.4. 355; 

'.,«,.■, Car- 
!. 358, 

r,i-tle, 234 
, ,.k Water, 299, 300 

< ■ i'l. 10 , ■» u 1 „.. 1 

In, ,11- The: Alfristou and its church ami 

i..-s 9 ; Lullingtou Church, 10 
!,>,, i'l'ie Red, and Robert Brnce in the Grey- 

,1,1, Mom-istery, 319 

iiiiimliain, Allan, his allusions to the Annan, 

I's.'y Beck and Bsthwaite Water 292 
Cutler Fidl, 345 _ 
§™i;:h™The/Hhe'M,atterliorii of Wales," 204, .1 ' 

361; I'l '-- "•■ ^ ■ ■ ■ " ;• -- 

the early d.'.i- ■-•' »'.•■'■"' ' ' ' , ", 

and deepenhig the cl,ii 

Whiteinch, Govan, shi],'' 

the opening of an ■•.,:, r ' ' ■ ■ ' 

tnn « 1 II ' 'Me of Du 

', II |, i . : Dumbarton 

barton Rock, 367 ; On , i i t , u. roii, 

Matilda, Whin Hi 1. i i ' 

"Tail of the Bank." An I" I ''■■""i 

the Duke of AivvlU , ' ■ t.are 

Loch, 368, 3';','; ' ■'■ ■■;"' ' ' 

biirgh, Bow. :'"'' •' , 

peaks of Beii 1 ,. ■■ , i rp,, 

Gobbler. "Ai-gyll.^ l;:,,..ii, ■ .i ■ : ""1 Ben 

Cruachan, 369 ; seaside residcii, 

ing-places, 369 
Clydebank, 366 
CU ]. ,.),!,, Til.- hills of, 343 

, ■ , 1 , ,' 1 li,', 369 
i,,..i,,i l;,,,,.,,,l ; Statue at Stockport, 245 
CiHciuin Ki, man station of, 278 
Cocker The; Crummock Water, scenery, cata- 
racts Vale of Lorton, Cockermouth, Working- 
ton, 299, 300 
Coik.-rmnuth, 299, 300 
C.idale Tarn._2SS 
CoUsS 'Siuse (Castle o' Montgomerie) and 

" Highland Mai7," 335 
Cold well Rocks, 138, 140, 141 
Coleridge, Birthplace of, 27 
Ciih-rid°e, Hartley, Burialplace of, 289 
r,,,,.i,'vr'. •"■■ 

!,:,^ ii„ 'iJettws and Llaiirwst, 217, 218; 
(iwvun Ca-.tle, Llanbedr and aucient British 
post Trefriw, 218; Castle, 219, 220 ; Conway 
town, 220 ; Deganwy, pearWishery and Castle, 
"21, 222 ; Llandudno, 222 

Conway Castle, 219, 220 

Corby Castle, 307 

Daer Water, The. 322 

|l'l'"'p!o'idflnd his mills at New Lanark, 360, 

l)alt"Tl.e'^ Mingling of waters of East and West 
Dart, 40; features of the upper waters. Buck- 
luid Bi-a.oii. and Holne, 41; Buckfastleigh 

4aMc I.-"r--".dHerri.-k.Stiive,..o,,an, 



Sandrid',' li'msc iind John D.ui-^. l,i' 
and Sir° Humphrey Gilbert, «; '^'"i 
Dartmouth and its associations, 44, 45 
,avtin'.:tou H.ill. 42 

:' , Birthplace of, 91 
:,,tlii.larcnf. 44 

; Bala 

ml the 

It and Tel- 
i, Ceiriog, 

Mill's livke 

5-"''''- '■ ■ ■ ,. I, .,.:■■ ■■ ■>, 

^V4o'-"swin"^^o;«.0 l.i.'U . ll.,-:'"l-". 

Stle otFliuX' 239 ; CasUe ol M.istyiK ^ 
werk Abbey, Fountain of Holywell, ine 

"Lnery at Douglas Tonguelaiid, 322 ; Threavc 
Castle, 322, 323 
Dcerhurst, 119 




j>«'arl*llslicry «n'I »'r> 

I '• : at Xcalli Abbty. 173 : and Corby CastU-, 
'. King, nnd Minster 

Uif ibiizhur uf Alfivd the 

!i'« Kfiiinrts, 294 

IMS uf Hums. 331 : its 

n.lrane. S3!". S40 : Olssi- 

ii, Dnoii, Castlo of tlic 
> iailuway, 340 ; sourcen, 341 

"f, arid the siege of Thivnvo 

;t..r>'..f the, 34,'!, S47 
.i.ri. Kill of, and the innnler 
!• 1th. 323 

iiiiprisontiient nf Kir 
. ^lain by the Earl nt 

and source, 
■\'ldwy, Aran 

VJi ; Mtdi- 

risic, Oonnenlale, .S<ath\vaiti'. 
.illusions, «I4: the most 
"acli, likened to the Tlianies, 

: Rock and Ctstle of, .Sflfi, 
fr"!n till' Kiwk, 3«7 ; A»{>- 
■•■■ iinfai'tnries, :iCi) 

Uol«n Hums. 3I!i; 

Mi-'Uners Chnreliyanl, 

-s dispute with tlie 

...Iden Grove, 17» 

^ '■, Hcenery, Itiril Rock, manor- Llewelyn, I1I7 : inansioii nf 
'vyii, Tuwyii, ami 8t. Cadfan's 

•rith th.' 
•lit.' n-id 
•■ • 'nil, 

nl, 4l> 
1 . .^.^ Newydd, liK) 
i;^hi v.-.g K.wks, 232, 234 
Ei-Teniunl, »S 
Klien. The. 2;»S 
Elan. Tile, 127. 12S 
Eliialieth. Vneen, \nsit to Bristol. 7S ; and Buc- 

elouchs rescue of •• Kinnuint Willie," 311 
ElhsnuT.' Canal. Anueduet of, 234 
Elvan. Tlle. 343 

Elwy. The : Junction with the Clwyd. 23i) : St. 
As.iiOi, ncnbigh and its castle, 227. 228 ; 
Ituthin and its lastle. 223 
Ennenlale Water, 297, 29S 
Ent.rkin, SIS, 3:15 
Enue, Tlie. 4;i 
Krskine Uouse, Stii; 

Esk. The (Cumberland) : Source. 295 ; Scafell, 
Wastdale, I^ngdale, and Borrowdale, Esk 
Falls. Cam Si>out Cataract, Hardknott, Baker 
Fonw and Stanley Gill Waterfalls, 296 
Esk, The (Solway) : Scenery, angling, the Tarras 
tributary. 314 ; Gilnockie Tower, Uolluns 
Tower and Johnnie Armstrong, 310 ; the 
nMiiiinee of Loehinvar, 315, 316 
Eskdale, Upper, 295 
Estlnvaite Water, 292 
Ethellicrt, Muiiler of, 134 
Etherow, The. 243, 244 
Evesham, its Abbey ami the ^eatli uf Simon de 

Montfort, 114, 115 
Exbridge. 29 

Exe, The : Source and length. 28 ; characteristics, 
and conllueuee with the Barle, 29 ; Bampton, 
Tivert.7n, and Twy-foi>l-town, 30; Bicklcigh 
Briilge, Bickleigh Court and the Carews, 31 ; 
Cadbnry Castle, Dollniry Hill, and tlie seats of 
the Aclaiids and the Earls of Iddesleigh, 31 ; 
Exeter, 31-34 ; Countess Weir, canal to Top- 
sham. Puwderhani Castle, Starcross, Lympstoue, 
and fixmouth, 34 
Exeter: Situation. 31; mcining of name, 32; 
Castle of Kougemonl, 33 ; Cathedral, 33, S4 ; 
Guildhall, i;aual communication with the 
sea, 34 
Exmoor, 28, 27, 35. 37 
Exmottth. 34 

Fail, The, 335 

Fnilford, 334 

Fair Maid of Gallow.iy, The, 323 

Fairfax, General, his rout of the Royalist forces 

near Taunton, Uii ; and the river Parret, 71 
Fairliehl, 2S5 

Fal, The : Its rise in Tregoss Moor, Trcviscoe, 
length of course, Grampound, view about Tre- 
gothnan and Queen Victoria's visit, the Kenwyn 
and Allen. 03; Truro and its cathedral, 
scenery l)etwcen King Uarrv's Passage and 
Roseland, 04; grounds of Trclissick, view 
fmm Malpas Roail, Carrick Roail, Black Kock 
and the ilaim of Trum. (15 ; Falmouth and its 
harliour. B.'), liC ; the l/uils of Arwenack, the 
crwks of Falnirmth Harbour, CO 
Falls of Clyde. 347-349, 351 
Falls of the llepste, 170 
Falmouth and its harbour, 05, 00 ; and the I.onls 

of Arwenack, (Hi 
Fandiani, 12 
Foul, The, 180 
Fingle Briilge, 38 
Fishbnume Creek, 22 
Filzalan, William, Priory founded by, 95 
Fleelwoisl, 279, 280 
Fleming of Redliall and Helen, The romance of, 

31ii, 317 
Fletching Common, the burialplace of Gibbon, 10 
Flint, Town and Castle of, 239, 240 
Forilwlch, 4; its fonm'rnanie, and Izaak Walton's 

allu.<4ions, 5 
Forest of Brecon, 150 
i'onst .ifDcaii, 123, 13S 

Fowey, The : Its rise, also tilled the Dranes. 0(i ; 
St. Xeot, features of scenery, seat of i>ord 
Vivian, Lanhvdrock House, 01; Keslorliiel 
Casth', l.oslwithiel. Colonel Titus ami the 
silver oar, ilodinnoc Ferry, 02 ; Fowey Har- 
l«ur. 02, 03 : seat of the TretTrv family, ami 
French assault on Place House, 03 
lowey llrirlMmr, 02, 03 
lox. founder of the Society of Frienils, and 

Pendle Hill, 2711 
Framplon Court, 24 

Fiori.e, Tlie; Uranchi's, Dorchester, Franiiiton 
«' nil II.. Illaek Downs, Roman and British 
•' :. 11 Cnslh-. nnd Waivliain, 24 ; 
\von, 74, 75 

Gadsgirlh. 3:15 

tJ.ier, The. Roman camp, 150 
Gallowny. 321. 310 
Gaunel, The, .55 
Gare Loeh. 3l"c5, 309 
Gaunl's House, 23 

Gerahl de Wiudsor anil Cai-cw Castle, 182 
GiblsM]. Burialplace of, 10 
Giggleswick, 273 

Oilberl. Sir Humphrey. Birthplace nf, 41 
Giln.ickie Tower an.l Johnnie Armstrong, 315 
Gilpin. The. 2SS 

tiilpiu, Bernaixl, Biithplace of, '280 
Gishurne Hall, 274 

Gladst^me, Mr., and the swing railwav bridge 
over the Dee, 239 ; Haw,n-.leH Park, 239 ; his 
connection witli Liverpool, 207 
Glasgow: Its chief armorial devire, 342; ]mpula- 
tion at the jieri™! of the Reformaliiui, a'>8 ; 
legend of St. Kentigern, S5;l ; ils extent in the 
seventeenth century, :i5S ; the Cathedral, 
Cross, and other ancient buildings. S.'kS, 359 ; 
Laigh Baroiiv Church, 359; SI. Roche's 
Cliapel, 3,'.ft; stivets and briilges, 3C>0 ; the 
Gi-eeii. Sill ; piipiil.itinn at the beginning of 
the nilK-tei-ntli centliry, ;102 ; George Square 
ami the iii..iiurin-nts. :i02. 3t'.3; the Municipal 
buildings, an.l p..pulation in 1891,303; ship- 
building in.liistrv and ilrainage, 303, .304 ; sun- 
sets seen fi.un the harbour, docks, and .juays, 
304 ; ail.inining places, 304-300 
Glaslyn, The, 204 
Glenciirn familv. The, 321 
Glenderainakin,' The. '.".iS 

Glcndower, Owen, his stronghold on Plinliminon. 
125, 120 : at Hay, l.SO ; defeat at Usk, 165 ; 
and Al>ir.l..vey. 194; his Parliament at 
Machviill.-th. I'.k; ; Parliament House at Dol- 
gellev, -Juli; li-ln with Howell Sell!, 202; and 
Corw.-n Cluir.-hv:!!-.!, 231 
Gloucester: The Cathedral, 119-122; a Roman 
station, 119; mun.istcry, 119; during the 
Civil War, 120 
Goat Fell, 345 
Gol.len Grove, 179 
Golden Valley, The, 142 
Cmdrieh Castle, 13S 
(iourock Bay and Castle, 308 
Govau, :104. 305 
Govaii Point, 304 
Gowy, The. 25S 
Goyt, nie, 243, 244 
Grampound, 0:1 

Grasmerc : Wordsworth's cottage, the Cliurcli, 

graves of Wonlsworth, Hartley Coleridge, and 

memorial to Clough. 289 ; length of Lake and 

ils beautiful surroundings, 29i> 

Gray, The poet, on the Vale of Caloii, 282; on 

Grasmere, '290 
Graygartli, 2S2 
Great Gable Mountain, 297 
Greenock, 307, 30S 
(ireliville, Richanl. and Bidefoiil, 4S 
Greta, The: Source, 298; Keswiek, 298, 299; 

Crosthwaite, view (mn Casllerigg Top, 299 
Greta, The (Lancashire), '.'Si 
Gretna Green, 312 
(irey. Sir Patiick, and the Earl of Douglas, 322. 

Greystoke Castle. 30" 
Grougar Hill, 179 
Omvc Ferry, 5 

Guild of .St. George at Barmouth, 203 
(iiiild-Merchants' Festival at Pre-ston, 278, '279 
Gunnislake, 55 
(iwbeit-on-lhc-Sea. ISO 
Gweilderig, The, 178 
GwryiH'v, The, 153 
Gwydir i;astle, 218 
Gwvlledd, Dwen, 231 
Owyniie, Xell. Birthplai* of, 1.15 
Gyiiin, The 180 

namerton, Philip Gilbert, and the coiintry round 

Burnlev, 278 
Ilnmilton'aiid Hamilton Palace. .353 
Hamilton of llolhwellliaugli, 3.53 

Hi aze. The, 58, 59 

Hanlham. 11 

Ilariwoisl Forest, 19 

llarleeh. Castle of. 2o:l 

Harold Godwinson and Rlin.ldlan fortress, 220 

Hastings. S 

llaughi I Hill, 94, '. 

Ilavcrfonlwest. |)iihl ai 
Haverigg Point, 295 
Ilawiinhn Park. 2:i9 
llawes I'iirli. 2.S0 

llel. The, 
Uolcuaburgh, 309 

d present, 180 



Helliflelil, Peel-lioiise at, 273, 274 

Helm Crag, 2S9 

Helvellyn, iSa 

Heinans, Mrs, : Monument in ilie Catiiedml of 
St, A^ph, 227 ; crossing the Ulvci-stou sands, 

Henlield. 11 

Henry IV. and Hotspnr at tlie tattle of Shrews- 
bury, 01, !»5 

Henry VII. and Carew Castle, 1S3 ; at Milford 
Haven, 185 ; at Mathafani, 105 

Henry VIII. and his Welsll pedigree, 233 

Heiiwen, The, 149 

Hepste, The. 170 

Herbert ..f CMI.t i k. Sir Ri.-inr.l. }',*. 155 

Herb.'vt, ..l <■'■. l.'in. Tin', ^.", ^7 

Her.-f.rl: "'.- IMi.--, w.1m,\ r:iid, 133 : 
niiira. I .1 l/ tlir, the 
" .M:iii|.u .\luii.iJ. 134, l:i5; .\,-U liMVime, 135 

Herniit;ike Castle and its liistorical association-^, 
313, 314 

Heslock Towers, 2S0 

Hestliank, 286 

Heysham, 2Sf5 

High Blantyre, 357 

Higlibridge and the Gl.istnnbiirv Canal, 71 

Hobbes, BicthpLace of, 72 

Holker Hall, 2SS 

Hollows Tower and Johnnie Armstrong, 315 

Holme Island, 2Sli, 2SS 

Holne and Charles Kingsley, 41 

Holy Loch, 3U9 

Holywell, Fountain of, 240 

Home, Earl of. Estate of, 347 

Honddu, The, 142, 150 

Honiton, 27 

Hooker, Bishop, (i 

Hornby Castle, 2S2 

Horton Prioi-y, 3 

Horton-in-Ribblesdale, 272 

Howgill, Fairv ^lens at, 281 

Hvndfoi-d Brid-e, 345 

Hythe, 7 

Iddesleish, Earls of, Seat of, 31 ; statue to the 
tirst Earl, 33 

Idwal, The, 207 

111 Bell, 292 

Ingleborough Cave, 282 

Ingleboroiigh Heights, 272, 2S2 

Ingleton, 282 

Irk, The, 24(i 

Irlam, 245, 254, 255, 99 

Irt, The : Outlet of Wastwater, 29ci, 297 

Iryini-, Edward, Biitli place of, 318 

Irwell, The : Confluence with the Mersey, 24r, : 
rise, course, and tributary streants, 24*"' ; 
bridge.-*, 252, 254 

Isle, The, 68 

Isle of Oxney, S 

IsleofThanet, 3, 4, 6 

Isle of Wight : Lack of running water and wooils, 
22 ; the Medina, 22 

Itclien, The, 12 ; source, 13, 14 ; salmon-fishinu', 
14, 15 ; Alresford Pond, 14 ; tributaries, Cheri- 
ton and the defeat of the Royalists. Tichborne 
ami "the Claimant," 15; Xun's Walk, NVin- 
chester and Izaak Walton, lli ; Hospital of 
St. Cross, 17 ; St, Catherine's Hill, IS ; 
Southampton, its docks, piers, etc., 19 

Ithon, The, 128, 129 

Jacobites, Execution at Carlisle of, 311 
James V. and Johnnie Armstrong, 315 
Jedburgh, Abbey of, 355 
Jesuits, The, and Stonyhurst College, 274 
John, King, at Deganwy Castle, 222 ; and Liver- 
pool, 259, 261 
John of Gaunt and Lancaster Castle, 282-284 
Johnson. Dr., at Plymouth with Sir Joshua 
Reynolds, 53 

Kemsey, 104 

Kendal, 288-288 

Kenilworth Castle, 108 

Keumuir, 357 

Kennedys, The, Seat of, 340 

Kent, The: Kentmere village and Kentnur 
HaU, 286 ; Kendal, 280-288 

Kentmere, 2So 

Kenwyn, Tlie, 63 

Keswick, 298, 299 

Kidderminster, 102 

Kilgerran Castle, ISS 

Kilpeck Church, 142 

King's Road Estuary, 05 

Kings Worthy, 15 

Kingsley, Charles. Birthplace of, 41 ; his descrip- 
tion of the Dee estuary, 240 

Kingswear, 44. 45 

Kiunaston, "The Wonder" of, 1.35 

Kirkby Lonsdale, 281 

Kirkconnel and the romance of Helen and her 

lover, 316. 317 
Kirkgate, 300 
Kirtle Water and the romance of Helen and her 

lover. 310, 317 
Kit Hill. 58 
Kyrle, John, " The Man of Ross," 137, 138 

Laiglau, 337, 33S 
Laii-a Bridge, 51 
Lainl, Mr. John, 268 

I.annngton Tower, 344 

Lanark, 350 

Lancaster : rnriner prosperitv as a port, 282 ; 

:i-i«"i'iritiiiiis of ,I..lin <•( i;:rrit. 2S2-'2!;4 ; a 
^, and lirst 

-I : 


■-slaltlisliie-iits. in- : -Li.ii i.:i • i 1 1n- Pretender, 
■i->3; birtbpl.iee oi Wl.evie.l, (.Loiuiiar School, 

[.ancaster Bay. 286 

l^anding-stage at Liverpool, 265, 206 

Laudor, Walter Savage, and Llanthony, 142. 14" 

Langdale, Great and Little, 291 

l.angport, 68 

Lansdowue and the defeat of Sir William Walle , 

Latchford, 255, 256, 257 
Lauries, The, The Scat of, 321 
Leadhills, 344 
Leamington, 108 
Lee Priorv, 6 
Lemon, The, 39 
Leuham, The, 3 
Lerrin Creek, The, 62 
Leven, The, 293 
Lewes, Battle of, 10 

Liddel, The : Hermitage Castle and its associa- 
tions, 313, 314 
Lid, The, 46 
Lincluden Abbey, 319 

Lind, Jenny, and Manchester lulirmary, 252 
Liudfleld, 10 

Liuton the engraver and Brantwood, 294 
Listers, The, Family seat of, 274 
Littlebourne, fi 
Littli-lnniiit'.n, 11 

Livri. 1 I ■■ •■ ii:-'.'!'. LI. I v;ni;itiM,i-^ ill iirime, 

--,'.- . .:: - , I. , - i.-nv.i, ili<. M,.lineux 

:„i-l M nii. ■- I ,: i:l ■ -, ■:■": Km- .1 liii and 

loxtelll r.,lk. I'l: . ■ • ■.'■ !■ i'i 'L'-n 

261 ; during the i ; . W , - ■ : .: ' ■■ ■ '- 
Camden, .andpo|.i.. _ : ' ! 

entering the porl . J- , N . I-.,-..: m !._:,: 
house, 263; dock.-., Jt.u. -'4. l.ui.lai„-aU»^. , 
2'i'., 2i>t'' : electric overhead railway, 266; 
iiiilwav to Birkenhead, view of the city from 
liirkci'ihead, Lime Street Station, St. George's 
Hall, etc.. 206; Town Hall, Royal Exchange, 
University College, Intirmar>-, Sefton Park, 
water-supply, 88, 267 ; bishopric, euunent 
men, 267 
Livesey, Jo.seph, and the flret total abstinence 

pledge, 278 
Livingstone, David, Birthplace of, 355 
Liza, The and the Great Gable, 297, 298 
Llanbedrand its ancient fortilications, 218 
Llanberis, and the Pass, 205 
Llaudaff Cathedral, 165 ; village and Bishop's 

palace, 106 
Llandderfel, 2;f0 
Llunddewi Brett, 187 
Llandilo, 179 

Llandingat. Viear of. Story of the, 179 
Llandogo, 144 
Llandovery, 178, 179 
Llaudrindod and its wells, 129 
Llandudno, 222 
Llnucgwad, 179 
Llan-aa.'Ck. 179 
Llni-atloc Park, 153 
Llan-.>Uen, Vale of, 232 ; bridge of, 233 ; town of, 

and derivation of name, 234 
Llangurig, 126 
Llangwrvney, 153 
Llanidloes, 84, 85 
Ll:inrwst, 217. -JIS 



r1 Walter Savage 


l,l.-«v]\ii, l.a-i -i;ii[d and burialplace of, 1-28.129; 
ri.le 1.. IJiulili, 130 ; at Hereford, 133 ; and llic 
I).\ syuni, l;'7 ; birthplace of, 214 ; and Deganwy 
Castle. 222 ; at Rhuddlan. 220 

Llewelvn, David Llwyd ap, 195 

Lli.1, Tiie. b'.s, K.9 

Llu-Tvy. The : At Capel Cnrig, turbulent course 

and scencr\', 210 ; Swallow F.alls, 210, 211 ; 
Moel Siabod, 210, 211 ; Bettws-y-Coed, 211-213 

Llytlnant, The, 124 

Llvn-Gwyn Lake, The, 1-27 

Loch Boon, 340 

Loch Enoch, 341 

Loch Lomond, 307, S69 

Loch Long, 369 

Lochinvar, The romance of, 315, 316 

Loelimabeu the supposed birthplace of Robert 
Bruce, 318 

Lndnre, Falls of, 299 

" Logan " stone in Teign valley, 38 

Lonian, The, 30 

Long Mountain, The, 87 

Longridge Fell, 279 

Looe, The, .55 

Lostwithiel, 02 

Love, The. .55 

Loweswater, 299, 300 

Ludlow, its .-.astleand church. 104 

Lug, The, 135 

Lngar, The, 334 

Lnndy, 47 

Lune," The : Spencer's allusion, its rise, uplands, 
highlands, valleys, fairy glens, Howgill, Kirkby 
L^>ns<lale. 281 ; the Greta and the Wenning, 
Vale of Caton. Morecanibe Bay and Little 
F\lile, 212; Lanca.ster, 282-284; Drayton's 


Lutterworth and Wiclif, 108 

Lydney, 123 

Lyrcinge Chnrch, 3 

Lymington river, The, 20 

Lympstone, 34 

Lyn, The (also called the East Lyn) : Source, 
length, general features, places and scenes 
described in " Lorna Doone," 35 ; its beauty 
between Mabnsniead and Watersmeet, 35, 36 ; 
Lynton and Lvnmouth, 36 

Lynhcr, The, .59 ' 

Lynmouth. 3(i 

Lynton, 30, 47 

Machno, The : Scenery, Pandy Mill, Falls of the 

Conway, 215 ; Fairy Glen, 217 
Machynlleth, 195, 196 
Madoc, Prince, Tales of, 204, 2-20 
Madoc ap Gruffydd Maelor, 234 
Maiden Newton, 24 
Mallwyd Church, 195 
Malmesbury, ruins of the abbe.v, William of Mal- 

mesburv, and Hobbes, 72 
I AIal,»w F.nd ..^f,i:nv. (i:, 

• I • : I ■ , . VI ; . : ■;:.i-' .,i. 246; 

,: _ - .1 , ., I,. • , . -.,- ..., -■:-. f-hil^ -17. -1;, J'u. -■- 1, --■-; 'innii-lhe Civil 
Ware, Peterluo massacre, Parliamentary repre- 
sentation. Free Tl-ade Hall, incorporation, 250; 
Cathedral, 250, 251 ; Chetham College, Grammar 
School, Owens College. Victoria Universit.v, 
Free Libraries, 251 ; Albert Memorial, Town 
Hall. Intirmarv and other buildings, 252 ; the 
Irwell. 240, 252, 253 ; Salford docks, 254 

" Mappa Mundi," 134 

Mareiilield and the remains of iron-smelting in- 

. lust IV, 10 


Marias, Ihe, ISO 

Marian. The, 7:'. 

Martei;, The. 127 

Martyr's Woitliv, 15 

Mary Queeti of Si-ots, her laiuling at Worknigton, 

300; visit to liothwell, 314; at Craignethan 

Castle, 351 ; at Cadzow, 363 
Massey. Gerald, and Brantwood, 294 



".Vallery and the Castle of Hay, 131 
- , . I - : I . :i:.3 

::i, ii l:. 108; G.anllwvd Glen, 201; the 
1. I "' liania.uth and Wordsworth, 
,,„' M I \l,i.. ., . 1 >;, ^larv, 202; an- 

uit\ .1 I .1 , I i iiii.iuth, Guild of 

(;,, ;_ • _ \ .,«-, 203 

ell i.iiiiily, III'-, uii'l 1 '. 1. 1 laverock Castle, 
3:;o, 321 
Maxwelltown, 321 
Jleavv, The, 50 
M,.,lina river. The, 22 
Me.U.-ck. The, 246 
Melksham, 74 
.Mellte, The, 109-171 
Menai Strait. -206 
Meon\yare, 12 

Merlin's Grotto, 179 . 

Mersey, The : A modem river, 242 ; denvations 
of "name, 242, 243; origin, 243, 244; lilack- 
stoneedge reservoirs and the Manchester, 244; Stockport, 244, 246; 
Northenden, Stretford. 245 ; the Irwell, 245, 
246 ; Manchester and Salford, '246, -247, 250-2.52, 
254, 265, 257 ; the Ship-Canal, 247, 248, 250 ; 



! Liverpool, 2'">0 

f.«t of the Covenanters 

r.i.intviv mills. 3ro 
1 Uie' Herberts of Clicr- 
>1 iu monuments, f»7 
f » stftpent, 135 
-■S5, *ao 

- .. :. A 

o.\ Brecon CaxUe, 151 

r. «eml>l.-incc to the Wye, 140 

' ■.'40 

. SM, 351 

. OS 
i r- Grey Mill," S40 

.!..! Mrs. Ramleirs " Domestic 

Miu^wJ ibui'il .", Se.1t of Uie, SOS, ?XH 
Myddleton, Sir Ungh, ajiU Chirk Castle, 234 

- : tijc Stone of 
:i.-, ii»: the 

N'eith, the 
171 ; theCivm 
1 : Pont Nrtith 
-y, in-173 
- 173 
u.M, 179 

ii'i, Clmrt-h at Brcon founded 
dnckfi, and castle, 157 ; Church 

-*, course, and trihntatles, 31S : 

I)rTimIr.r,ri; r ,stle. 3111, 3J0 : 

■' * The Cairn, 3lax- 

NrirUieiMlm, 24» 

Iloniton, Ottery St. Stan", and 
. ...- .. rtrminiscences of his birthplace, 

Otteiy St. Mary, 27 

Onse. Tlic Sussex; Course, Fletehinp Common. 

Mnn-slleld and its reni.iins of iron-smelting 

industT>\ l«tlle of Lewes, 10 
Overton Cliurchyard, 236 
Owen. Sir Kichard, and Lancaster Grammar 

S.hool. 2S4 
Owen. Robert. Birthplace of, 86 ; his mills at N'cw 

Lanark. :i5u 
Owens. Jolin. and Owens College, 251 
Oxenbridge Ogre. The. 7 
Oxeuliams, The, Tradition relating to, 46 

Paisley, 3«V> 

Paley and the Grammar School at Gigpleswick, 273 

Parr'. C-itherine, Birtliplace of, 2S7 

Pam't, The : Source, and view at Crcwkeme, 67 ; 
Cliurch of St. Bartholomew, ruins of Muchelney 
Abbey, Langjiort. historical as.sociatiolis, the 
Tone and lannton, ("^ ; Athelncy Island and 
Alfred the Gnat, fli", 70; S»><lgemoor, 70; 
Bridgwater .ind its trade, Burnham, High- 
bridge, W.K.key Hole, 70, 71 

Partick. :f03, 305 

IVitrixUiume, 6 

Piitti. .Mailame, and Craig-y->"os, 177, 17S 

Faxton, .^ir Joseph, 2t>'> 

Pcarl-llshery at IJeganwv, 221 

Peden the Covenanter, 3S4 

Peel Castle, 280 

Pegwell liav. li 

Pembroke. Old and New, 1S3, 184 

Pembroke Castle, 1S3 

IVndle Hill. 276 

PeninaenmaWT, 209 

PenmaeniHKjl, 198, 202 

Penrhvn Castle, 209 

Pentiliie Castle, 58 

Perddyn, The, 171 

Peterloo nia-ssacre, 250 

Petteril, The. and Greystoke Cistle, 307 

Pillar -Mountain, 297 

Plinlimmon, source of five rivers, S2, 124 ; legend- 
ary associations, 125, 126 

Pl.vm,The: Rise and outlet, 49; Cjulaford Bridge, 
Shaugh Prior, the l>ewerstone, the MeAvy, 
Sheepstor, Bickleigh Vale, Plymptou Priory, 
50; Plymi'ton, Earl, and Sir Joshua Re>*nohls, 
I>aira Bridge, and Saltnim, 51 ; Plymouth, 
DevoniN.rt, and Stonehouse, 52, 53 




Plvmpton Earl and Sir Joshua Re\Tiolds, 51 

Plympton St. Marv, .10 Xeath Vaiighan, 171 

Pontvpridd and its bridge, 163. 104 

Portmadoc, 20:i. 204 

Portsmouth. Earl of. Seat of, 40 

P.istling and the southern branch of the Canter- 
bury- Stour. 3 

Potrail. The. .•143 

Poult-iule-Fylde, 280 

Powderhum Castle, 34 

IV.wys C.nstle. S7 

I*rchistoric animals. Remains of, 273 

Preston : Antifpiity, AngU>-Saxon remains, rout 
of the Royalists, buildings, 278; i»ort and 
docks, 279 

Preslonbury, ;w 

Prt^tenders," The. at Ijincaster, 283 

Priesthill and the shooting of John Brown, 332 

Prior Matthew, Binhidacc of, 23 

Pulhorough, 11 

•• Q.." Old. 320 

Vlnalfonl. 102 

yneenslicrry. First Duke of, and Drumlanrig 

Cnstle. 31!l 
Quickiuinds of Morecauitie Bay, 285, 286 
Quothf|UHn, 345 

Raglan Cistli- 
Ram.gntc. o 

I!. ! >;.,., •::< 

cl Manchc.tet 

a-Ti. ,-ind liiKtorical aMociathi 
. Hir and Carew Castle, 182 

RibWe. The : Source. 271 . 375 ; Settle, formation 
of the railway and diversion of the river, 
Horton-in-Ribbles«laIe, 272 ; lep»ndary giants, 
Gigglesw ick, cascades near Stainforth, whortle- 
b?rrv and nuishrooni pniluce. 273 ; peel-house 
at Hellilield, 273. 274 ; Gisbunie Hall, wild 
cattle, Bowland Forest, the H.idder, Wliite- 
wcll Cha|)el, Brownsliolm Hall, and the Seal 
of the Commonwealth. 274 : Stonvhurst College 
and the Sherburne familv. 274-270; the Cahbr. 
Bundcv, Pen.Me Hill, aiid a storv of Fox. 270 ; 
Towneley Hall and the niins ..f Whallev Al.Kv. 
276, 27.S ; allusions of PhilipGilbert Hamerton, 
S7S : Preston. 278. 279 

Richanl IL, landing at Milfonl Haven on his 
return fnuii Ireland. 1S5 : at Conwav Castle. 
220 ; a captive at Rhnddlan Castle" 22(i ; at 
Flint Castle. 239 

Richborough Ca.stle, C 

Bivington Pike. 279 

Robartes., Coniish home of, 01 

BoKrt-sbridge an.! the Cistereian Abhey, 8 

Roch, The, 240 

Romsey : Sitlmon-fishing, and the abbey, 19 

Ropley Dean, and the source of the Itclien, 14 

Roseneath, 3t;s 

Ross Town and the "Man of Ross." 136-1.38 

Rothay (or Rotha), The : Its feelers, Cmhile Tani, 
Easedale, 28S ; Helm Crag, Wordsworth s 
allusioi., Grasmere, the Church, .isieet of the 
country in fonner times, 2S9 ; Wordsworth's 
Cottage, -289, 290 ; hills and other scenerv 
round Grasmere, 2!iO ; Rvdal. Ryilal Water and 
Forest, -ioo, Jl'l ; Ambleside, junction with the 
Brath.-iv. fall into Windernieri-, 2:'l 

Bother, the Easleni. and limliani Castle, 7. 8 ; 
source. Roliertsbriilge and its abl*y, trihu- 
t.iries, scenery, Isle ofOxnev, and Winchelsea, 8 

Row, 309 

Ro.val Militarr Canal, 7 

Rugby, lOS 

Runcorn. 255 2.57. '258 

Rupert, Prince. an<l the siege of Liverpool, 202 

Ruskin, Mr. : Guild of St. George at Barmouth, 
203; allusion to scenery in the Vale of Llan- 
gollen. 232 ; and Brantwood, 291 

Rutherglen. 35S, 301 

Rvdal Water, 290, 291 

Bje, 7, S 

Saddlelack, 298 

St. Asaph and its eathetlral. 227 

St. .\ugustine. Arrival of, 4 ; and Littleboumc, C 

St. Austell, The, 55 

St. Bri'le of Druiglas, Church of, and the Douglas 

familv, 347 
St. Cadi« creek, Tlie, 62 
St. Constaniine, CliurclivanI of, 344 
St- FinlaiTus, lirst Bishop of Coik, Church dedi- 
cated to. tiA 
St. Giles's Park, 24 
St. John's Beck, The, 29S 
St. Kentigem. legendary stor>* of, 358 
St. I.ennards Forest, 10," 11 
.St, Michaels, Lancashire, 280 
St, Mung.>, 358 
St. Nent, 01 

St. Xieh..lasat-Wade. Foi-d at, 6 
St Patrick, Birtliplace of, S66 
St. Wilfrid and the South Saxons, 13 
Salfor.1, 246. 24S. 2,'.4. (.Sre o;*p .Manchester) 
.Salisburv and the Avon, 22 ; Cathedral, -23 
Saltash, 55. .'.!) 
Sallport. 2.58 
Sandwich, 0, 7 
Sark, Tlie, 312 
San'. 5, 6, 
Sawddy, The, 178 
Seafell. '295 

Scorhill Down and the "Clam" Briilge, 37, .■« 
Scott, Sir Walter, at Wonlsworth'a cottage when 

an Inn. 2!'0; his visit to the lliurch of St. 

Briilc of, 347 ; and "Old Mortality," 

S51. 354 
Seafonl. 8, 10 
Seal i>f the Cominonwc.illh. Tlic, at Brownsliolm 

Hall. 274 
Seatoii. The. 55 

Sole r. 70 

SeHon Park. '207 

S<iont, The : l>englh. Pass of LlanlOTia. 205 ; 

Dolln.l.iMi and Ccnnnnt Mnwr. 21).'.. '206 ; 

vicwofSo..«dMn.C.irTiarvon Castle, Carnarvon. 

Conwav. an-l the i>lc ..I Aiigl-s.-a. -Sk; 
Seri«nl of the Wjv. Th.-, I,.'g'ii'l of. 135 
Ntlle. -.'72 

"Seven Wonilers of Wahs." '2:12. 233. 23ft 
Severn. The : .Source. S2 ; length, 82 and note ; 

and the course of the I>ci<. K.1 ; seener)' mar 

source. k:i : it. amictit na «. ,si ; Llanidh«-«. 

M.S'.; Ilia. nhafMh. s4 ; < ', fii Cam.^l.l. s",. Sii ; 

Cn.r.n. r..rliv««. X..\v|..»n and U..1«ti Ow.n, 

86 ; >l..utg..mcn. Its castle and the Herbert* 



ofCherburv, S6, 87; Welshpool, Powys Castlo, 
Roman eiitrenclmielits, the Lou^ Mountain, 
the BieWden Hills, S7 ; Vyrnwy tribntory, 
Liveniool water-supvily, SS ; views from the 
hills, 87; Shvewsbiu-y, 90-94; Haughmond 
Hill, 04 95 ; An^nstinian Priovy, 95 ; Atcliani, 



"f Vt 

VfrA r, r. I'll I.I i: i M .1 li Wrnlnrk. lllllM- 

was \i.' . , - . ,, , n.iV-. Ir.iul.n.Ur, 

Brus,.l<-(, ■ iici.lhiul, :'.'. Uii.l.^aurtli, W, Iw, 
Quatl'or'j, Bewdley, Kiildcniiinster, Stuui-port 
and the canal, 102 ; Worcester, 102-104 ; the 
Teme, Ludlow Castle and Chmrh, 104 ; Keni- 

sey and Upton, 104: T.-vk-i.'ivv 1".;: r. 

hurst, 119; Glouc.|,t. : n- .iiviiii I 

historical associati<n.- i i_ i :: i - 

bridsi", H2; tidal w.. , , \1, , : : ;.. 

Wcstl'iirv, X-iviilnm. I:. ,l,i :. v , Lj .li..-i , .Sli;u i- 
liess r.i.i.i ■■ ■, 111. i-iurv, 11^ 

Shafcsiiiii.. i: •:- ■ 111 Si. cilless Park, 23 

ShakesiM ,u 1,1- ,~~ I ; ,i;.i!is w ith StratfoM-on- 
Avoii, lll-ll-l, lu^ .ilkisiuus tu Kendal, 2SS 

Shandoo, 3ii9 

Sharpness, 123 

Sheflield, Earl of. Seat of, 10 

Shellev and Treniadnc, 204 

Sherburne family, The, and Stonyhurst College, 
274, 275 

Ship-Canal, Manchester, 247, 248, 250, 254, 255, 

Shorehani, 11 

Shottery and Anne Hathaway. Ill 
Shrewsbury : Situation and history, 90 ; attacks 
on the fortress, bridges over tlie Severn, birth- 
place of Admiral Benbow and Charles Darwin, 
school, 91 ; black-tinibeved houses, Ireland's 
Mansion, 92 ; churches, 94 ; museum, 97 
Sid, The, 27 

Siddons, Mrs., Birthplace of, 151 
Sigourney, Lydia, Lines on Carlisle by, 309 
Silverdale, 285 280 
Simon de Montfort, Death of, 115 
Simousbath, 28 

Skelton, John, Lampoons of, 305 ; in sanctuary at 
Westminster, and story of his student days, 
Skiddaw, 298, 307 
Smeaton and the Kddystone, 52 
Smollett, The home of, 367 
Snowdon, 204, 205, 21U 
Solway Firth, 301, 302, 312 
Sorn, 332 ; the castle, 333 ; the vilLige and the 

memories of Burns, 333, 334 
South Molton, 46 
South Tawton, 46 
Southampton, 13, 14; docks, piers, suburbs, clc., 

Southampton Water, 1 
Southey, Birthplace of, 78 ; his allusion to tlio 

Vale of St. John's. 298 ; burialplace, 2'J9 
Southwick, 13 
Spencer : Allusions to the Dee, 229, '237 ; allusions 

to the Lune, 281, 284 
Spi-int, Tlie, 286 
.Stainforth, 273 
Stair House, 335 

Stanley, Mr. H. M., Birthplace of, 228 
Stanley family, The, and Liverpool, '260 
St.ircross, 34 
Staverton, 42 

Steele, Sir Richard, and Carmarthen, 179, ISO 
Stephen, King, and his siege of Shrewsbury, 90, 91 
Stevenson, R. L., his character of the Lord 

Justice Clerk in " Weir of Hermiston," 350 
Stewart, Dugald, entertains Robert Burns at 

Catrine House, 334 
Stcyning, 11 
Stoekbridge, 19 

Stockport : A railway centre, 244 ; antiiputy, his- 
torical associations and trade, 245 
Stonebyres Linn, 351 
Stonehouse, 51, 53 
Stonelcigh Abbey, 108 
Stonyhurst College, 274--276 
Stour, The (Canterbury! ; Peculiarities, 2 ; branches, 
Icuglli "f course and valley, 3 ; angling, 3, 5 ; 
Ashford, Lenham, Postling, Lyminge, and Wye, 
3 ; Canterbury, 4 ; Fordwich, 4, 5 ; Grove 
Ferrv and Sarr, 5, 6 ; Isle of Tlianet, 6 ; Peg- 
well' Bav, 6 
Stour, The (Dorsetshire) : Source, and confluence 
with the Avon, 23; Canford Hall, Gannfs 
House. St. Giles's Park, Wimbome and Mattliew 
Prior, 23 
St<nir, Tlie Lesser : Source and course. Bishops- 
bourne Church and Bishop Hooker, Craiinier's 
Palace at Bekesliourne, and general features 
of the water.shed, 6 ; Sandwich, 7 
Stourhead, 23 
Stouriiinutli, l"' 
Stourpoi-t, 102 
Strata Florida Abbey, ISi'. 
Stratford-on-Avon : The town, 110 ; Shakespeare, 

Anne Hathaway, and Sir Thomas Lucy, 111 ; 
the church, the poet's burialplace. and monu- 
ment, 113, 114 

Stretford, 245 

Sundrum, 335 

Swallow Falls, 210, 211 

Swanli.mnie Mill, 11 

.su:iiis.;i : Ormin of name, industrial history, 174 ; 
.Mnnisiiu Castle, the Mumbles, literary asso- 
cJali.'U^ 1T5 

SwLcthcait Abbey, 322 

Swift, The, 108 

Sychnant, The. 170, 171 

Symond's Yat, View from, 140, 141 

Taf. The, ISO 

Tatr. The. 159, ll'.0: sources, lid ; w.itersnpply 
of Caiditr, 1(;3 ; Jlirtliyr ;iii.l its factories, 
llnwiais Steel and Ipmi \V..ik^. scenery of 
ariliients. 163; PoiitMnil.l. |i.:;. Inl; Castell 
C.ieh and its wiiii^, Ma ; Lliiiidatf, its 
cithedral and villa;;!-, 1.,,, l...i ; Carditf, 

Tal-y-Llvn, 197 

Talsarn Mountniu, 149 

Taniar, The, 4i 







, ll.L- V.lllcV, riilillUlr r.l.M. . I il„li in, 

St. Budeaux Church, Castle, an 1 
junction with the Tavy, 58 ; width at Saltash, 
charaeteri-stics of Saltish, the Hamoaze, 59 

Tame, The, 243 

Tarboltoii, 335 

Tarel, The, 150 

Tarras, Tlie, 314 

Tauiitou, 68-70 

Tavistock and Drake, 45 

Tavy, The : Course and richness of scenery. 45 ; 
Tavistock and Drake, 45 ; Buckland Abbey, 
tributaries, and confluence with the Taniar, 

Taw. The : Length, general features. South Taw- 
ton and the Oxenhains, Eggesford, Chnliii- 
Ini .li vi.vv Coddon Hill, Bishop's Tawton, 
;,i,,| I I -■ !. r,nk,46; Barnstaple, its history 
aiil ii I 17; Lundy, Hartland Point, 

al|,: II .-- r • ■ ■ . 17 

Tawc, tin, i ■.'. I II; Swansea, 174-176 ; Mumbles, 
175; length, Morriston, 176; the Twrch 
altliient, 176; Craig-y-Nos and Madame Patti, 

Tciti f'lv 'I'i'vvl Tlie ; Si.irce, Great Monastery, 

1 ' 1 ; 1 1 I M Ill ciilnmii ami 

,,\ , \ .11 haiih, 187; Kil- 

.^cnau V,.-,ui', i.a.iii^.iii, t^> ; O wbert-on-tlie- 
Sea, IS'J 
Tei"n, The : Source and tributaries, 3i ; the 
■"•'■' bridge near Seorhill, 37, 38; Leigh 



lll,.i,k, llilll,lnli| k' 11 k ■ ■■"••. 

Chu.llri;4h and ■•■ : ■ '■■ I- "f 

the li.Acy, .Ncuki.i -Vi... ; .ml Iki k'.i ■ "f 
Orange's proclaniapuii, 39 ; Teigiinn'Utli, til 
Teignmouth. 40 
Teme, The, 104 

Tennyson at Freshwater, 20 ; allusions to the 
Wye, 144; and Llanberis, 205; allusion t" 
Bala Lake, 230 
Tern. The. 06 

Test I'lie V- ^'Mire.! Tt: characteristics, lengtli. 

fi' ni. . -• . I'.'.l . angling at Ronisey, 19 

Tcwk'^kiiM I : \i I liurch and timbered 

l„,u>,,, 11 . 1, . .-t battle between Lan- 

ciistcraud Voik, ur, lis 

Thirlmere, 298 

Threave Castle and its history, 322, 323 
Tichborne, 15 
Tintern Abbey, 145, 146 
Tinto Hill, 344 ; prospect from, 345 
Titchftelil,The, 12 

Titus, Colonel Silas, C2 „ ^ 

Tiverton : Former name. Church of St. 1 ctcr. 
Castle, the Grammar School and Peter Blim- 
dell, 30 
Tomb, Miraculous, at Christchurch, 157 
Tone, The, 68 
Tong, The, 246 
Topsham, 34 

Torri.ige, The, 87, 46; its rise and circuit.ais 
course, 47; features nf the valley. 47; Tni- 
rin-tim .and its church. 47,48; Bideford and 
its histnrical assmiations, 48, 49 ; Hubba-stom-. 
Instow, and Appledore, 49 
Torrington and its church, 47, 48 
Tortington, 11 
Totnes, 42, 43 
Tower Linds.iv, 344 

Townelev Hall and the Towneley family, •27ri, '-'.^ 
Towy, The: Source, scenery, .ibscnce of pollution. 

affluents, YstradlTm and the story of Twm Shon 
Calti, Llandovery, 178; bridges, Llandilo, 
Dynevor Castle,' Golden Grove, Dryslwyn 
Castle, Nelson monument, the Cotlii, Llan- 
egwad, 179 ; Carmarthen, 79, SO 

Towyii, 19S 

Tiaeth liacli. The, -201 

Train, George Francis, 268 

Trecastle, 1,50 

Trein-y family, The, Seat of, 63 

Trefriw, 218 

Tregaron, 187 

Tregony, 63 

Tregothnan, 63, G4 

Treniadoc and Shelley, 204 

Trothey, The, 143 

"Trough of the Clyde," The, 350, 351 

Troutbeck, The : Trontbeck village, III Bell, 292 

Truro, 63, 64 ; and the jurisdictiou over Falmouth, 
65 ; rivalry with Falmouth, 66 

Truro River, 63 (See Tiverton) 

Uddington, 357 

Ulleswater, 303 

Clvcrstoii Sands, 286 

liiiv. iMiv College, Liverpool, '267 

. 97 

ik. II'"'; Tre- 

i l.l.m. 104 

knniinuui, Siteul 

Usk, The: 11- ) - 

castle aiiil . i 1 ;. 1 1 . i \ ■ im-Ii s 

Castle, 1' I ■ ' }■ k " 1 "I kiicon 

camp view tinni Llaiispyddld. l.iu; lireeon, 
l-'ii, 151 ; "Arthur's Chair," 151; the Beacons, 
I.-jU 1. ■.-.>; Bwleh, 152; Dinas Castle and Alfred 
the' Great's daughter, Crickhowell and the 
Well of St. Cenau, Llangattock Park and its 
cave, Llangwryney, junction with the Gwry- 
ney, 153 ; Abergavenny, 153, 154 ; Raglan 
Castle, salmon and trout fishing, Usk and its 
castle, Caerleon and Roman relics, centre of 
one of the ancient British kingdoms, 166; 
miraculonstouib, Newport, Earl of Gloucester's 
Castle, 157 ; tower of St. WooUos' Church, 158 
Usk town, a Roman station, castle, and scene of 
defeat of Oweu Gleudower, 155 

Vai: I \ \, --'32, 233 

Vea I a.-..-.ty, 2.51 

Vlii„i, L.a.i. of, 61 

Vyrnwy, The, and the Liverpool water-supply, 88 

::;. 38 

1 .egends of, 337 ; scenes of his 
.Irsdale, 3-15; his "Tower" and 

and Marion Bradfute, 350 ; and 
of the Quaw," 351 ; at Blautyre 



Priory, 355 

rriory, oaj 
Walney Island, 294 „ , . , , 

Walton, Izaak, his allusions to Fordwich, o ; 

grave and memorial at Winchester, 16 
Wanlockhead, 344 

Wantsum, The, 6 , ,„ , 

War of the Roses and the town of bhrewsbuiy, 

91 ; battle of Tewkesbury, 117 
Wailiintiin. 254, 255 

Waivliaiii. -24 , . „ „ , , 

Wane Thomas de la, and Manchester Cathedral, 

Warrington, 255, 256 
Warton the poet, and Wickham, 13 
Warwick and its church and castle, 110 
\\ ;,, V. I. k, I . ||^ . r.arl of, and Guy's Cliff, 108 

Will . . -II. .1 I'lvdesdale, 351 

Watt, .fana.s, and Glasgow Green, 361 ; birthplace 

' u(, 3i;s 

Watts llvke, 2.35, 236 , , , 

Wue'li 'the Lancashire poet, and a strangers 

descviptiou lif Wordsworth, 296 
Wear Gilkiid, 4S 
Wear Water. The, 26 
Weaver The, 2.'i8 

Weld. Cardinal, and Stonyhurst College, 2ia 
Well III St. Cenau, 153 
Wilslii»i"l. 87 
W.niiiii.g. The, '382 
Wrriiiedon stream. The, 55 
West 1,'viin, The, 29 
West I ikement. The, 37, 47 
Westbiirv-on-Severn, 123 
Westmiii'ster. Duke of, and Eaton Hall, 23i 

W'cth'eral 'tIic " Safeguards" and the priory at, 306 
Welhercn'ats Cav, Waterfall of, '282 
Whaddon streamlet, The, 74 



Wh»Uey Abbey, 27C, 27S 
Wharton Crags, 2S6 
Whernside Heights 272 
Wherwell, 1!> 
Whewell. Pr. Birttiplaec of, 2S4 

I the, 3t)C 

-.1 iif William Wjkcbaiu, and 

n^-iuci,,, ..f W«rU.n the poef, 13 
Wiekham Brvaiix, t> 
Wiclif .inil Lutterworth. lOS 
Witlnes, -257 

Wigtown niartjTS, 325, 320 
Wiley, Tlie. 22 
WiMia-Ti III , ln« poi+rait at Druiiilanrig Castle 

,. 1 ■ ; 1 . M 1 imjers, 320 
Wi Vniiathwaite, 305 



the neighbourhood of 

Wilson, Kichard, Uurialplace of, 237 

Wiinbome, 23 

Winchelsea, 7, S 

Winchester, 15 ; memorial to Izaak Walton, 10 

Windermere : Dimensions, islets, and feeders, 2i>l, 

2S2 : depth, .ingling for ehar, beauties of the 

southern end, 293 
Winster, The. 2SS 
Wirnil Peninsula, 259, 2l)S 
Wnion, The: Troutlishiiif;. the Torn^nt Walk, 

19S; tataract, 190 ; Oolgellev, 200, 201 

Wookey Hole, 71 

Woottou river. The, 22 

Woni'ster: History, 102, 103: Cathedral, 10:;, 

Wonlsworth, his lines on the Wye, 144 ; and the 
estuary of the Mawddach, " 202 ; and Mrs. 
Hemans crossing the Ulverstou Sands, 2S6; 
allusion to Kendal, 2SS; and Easedale Tarn, 
2SS, 2S!> ; his cottage and burialplace, 289, 290; 
on the river Dnddon, 294 ; sonnets on Donner- 
dale, 294, 295 : described bya local gos.sip, 297 ; 
Wrthplai-e, 300; on the Eden river, 303; on 
the scenery of the Clyde, 349, 350 

Workington, 300 

Wrekin. The, 94. 98 

Wrexham Church, 236 

W'roxeter. 90 

Wryuosc Fell, 294 

Wye. The: Source. S2, 124; Llangurig, Rhayader 
Gwy, 126, 127 ; the Llyn-Gwyu, 127 ; the Elan 
tributary, Nantgwillt and Shellev, scenery on 
the Elan, the Yrfon and Wolfs Leap, 12S ; 
burialplaec of Llewelyn, 129; Llandrindod 
and its wells, 129; Builth and Llewelyn's 
ride. Hay and its cnstlc and legends, 130-132 ; 
ClilTord Castle and Rosamond, 132, 133 ; Here- 
ford, Offa, Llewelyn, 133 ; murder of Ethelbcrt 
ami origin of the eathcdr.-il, 134; " Mapiia 
Muiidi," l.'!4, 135 ; Wye Bridge, Mordiford anil 
the legend of a .serpent, "The Wonder," 135 ; 
Ross and the " Man of Ross," 136-13S ; Good- 
rieh Castle. Forest of Dean, Courtfield, 138; 
ColdwellKocks, 1.8, 140; resemblance to the 

Mnsdle. 140; view from Kvmond's, 141 "■ 
Momnonth, 141. 142; lioi.lfn Vallev, .\li\«.y 
Kore, Xoriiian church of Kilpeck, tril.utiiries, 
142; Llanthony and W. S. LaTidor, 142, 143; 
WonJswortli's and Teiniyson's lines, 144 ; Tin- 
tern Abbey, 145, 140; view from Wvndclill', 
140 ; Chepstow, 146, 147 ; junction with the 
Severn, 14S 

Wye racecourse, 3 

Wyndclilf, View of nine counties from, 146 

Wynn, Sir John, 218 

Wynn, Sir Richard, 221 

Wynn, Sir Watkin Willliams, Seat of, 234 

Wynnstay, 234, 235 

Wyre, The : Scnirce, Fleetwood, the fells, 279 ; St. 
Jlichael's, Poulton-Ie-Fj'Ide, 2S0 

Wyre Water, 2S0 

Yar, The, rising at Freshwater, 22 

Yar, The eastern, 22 

Yarmouth, 20 

Yealm, The, 49 

Yeo, The. or Ivel, 08 

Yoker, 300 

Yrfon, The, 12S 

Ysi'ir, The, 160 

Ystradfellte. 109 

Y.stradffin and the story of Twm Shoil Catti, I7S 

Ystra.lgynlais, 170 

Ystttith, The; Rise and length, 189; Eglwvs 

Newydd ami nniuntain scenery, 190; Abcr- 

ystwith, 190, 192 

riiiNrcu Bv UAurLL & OoiirAKv, LiMiTKi), La Belle Sauvaob, Lonuo.v, E.C. 




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