serpentized its current in endless variety. Immediately on our left, the Graig, a huge solitary mountain, reared its towering sides from the low lands in uncontended majesty, and accompanied our road to the pleasing little village of GROSMONT. This place stands at the north-eastern limit of Monmouthshire, in an agreeable undulating valley, diversified with wood and pasture, and beautifully accompanied by the meandering Monnow, here wantoning its most fantastic course. On an eminence near the village, and swelling above the river, is the picturesque ruin of its castle; a pile of no great extent, but well disposed, and profusely decorated with shrubs and ivy. The form of the structure is irregular: large circular towers cover the angles of the ramparts; within which are traces of the baronial hall, and other apartments, and beyond the mount are some remains of the barbican, or redoubt, and several entrenchments. All the door and window arches are pointed Gothic, and of the proportion in use about the thirteenth century; but the foundation of the castle is supposed to be coeval with that of Screnfrith’s.—Grosmont church is a large Gothic structure, built in the form of a Roman cross; and, with its octagon tower, and high tapering spire, is a conspicuous ornament to the village. Though now an insignificant cluster of habitations, Grosmont was formerly a town of some note. Many exterior traces of buildings, and raised causeways, constructed like Roman roads with large blocks of stone, diverging from it, prove its antique extent and importance to have been considerable: nor is the legend of the place deficient in asserting its quondam consequence. But with still higher interest, with more voluble earnestness, the natives recount the exploits of their reputed necromancer, JOHN OF KENT. Among a thousand other instances of his magical skill, they confidently assure you, that when he was a boy, being ordered to protect some corn from the birds, he conjured all the crows in the neighbourhood into a barn without a roof, and by force of his incantations obliged them to remain there while he visited Grosmont fair. A greater service that he performed for the country was, his building the bridge over the Monnow in one night by the agency of one of his familiars. Long did his strange actions frighten men out of their wits; and at length, dying, he outwitted the devil; for, in consideration of services while living, he agreed to surrender himself to his satanic majesty after his death, whether he was buried in or out of church; but, by ordering his body to be interred under the church wall, he contrived to slip out of the contract. A stone in the church-yard, near the chancel, is said to mark the spot of this interment.