founded at an early period of the 13th century. Hawise Gadarn, (born 1291,) the heiress of the ancient Princes of Powis Gwenwynwyn, and wife of Sir John de Cherleton, was a great benefactress of this religious house, and contributed to the friars considerable aid in the erection of their church, which it is conjectured she adorned with the fine stained glass now in the east window of St. Mary’s church. This patronage was continued to them by her son Sir John de Cherleton. The corporation of the town also appear at all times to have regarded these friars with an eye of peculiar favour, and to have bestowed upon them various sums of money towards the repairs of their buildings. In the reign of Henry VIII. the greater part of the house was rebuilt by Dr. Francis Duff hill, at that time Warden. This and the other friaries of the town were on their dissolution granted by Henry VIII. in 1543, to Richard Andrewes, and Nicholas Temple. Portions of the friary converted into houses still exist. On the side next the river is a MULLIONED WINDOW, and on the other side a doorway, both of the obtusely pointed arch of the reign of Henry VIII. The walls of the garden may be traced far into the adjoining meadow. [Picture: Window in Franciscan Friary] The Lady Hawise, according to Leland, “lyith buried under a flate marble by Chorleton’s tumbe,” in the church, and several members of her ancient family received interment here. The path on the “gentle Severn’s sedgy bank” soon leads us to THE QUARRY, “Whose walks are ever pleasant; every scene Is rich in beauty, lively, or serene.” [Picture: The Quarry] This fine public promenade occupies a rich sloping meadow of about twenty acres, and derives its name from a disused stone quarry, nearly in the centre, which supplied a considerable part of the red sandstone visible in the older portions of the walls and churches of the town. Its site has long been designated “the Dingle,” and is planted with a bold clump of most magnificent horse-chesnut and lime trees. A noble avenue of lofty lime trees, gracefully unite their topmost boughs into a rich embowered arch, and with their lower branches feathering to the gentle windings of the beauteous river, forms the principal walk; to the middle and each end of which, three other shaded walks lead from various streets of the town. The still retirement and pleasing gloom of this delightful grove, from which the noise of the busy town, and even a prospect of its buildings, are almost entirely excluded,—the refreshing coolness of its shade,—the rich verdure which ever clothes its meadows,—the fine sweep of its umbrageous arch,—and the majestic flow of the river, which here “with gentle murmur glides, And makes sweet music with th’ enamel’d stones; Giving a gentle kiss to every sedge He overtaketh in his pilgrimage.”