The Severn, near GLOUCESTER, separates into two channels; which, soon re-uniting, inclose a tract of land called the Isle of Alney; so that we approached the city over two bridges connected together by a high causeway near a mile in length, which traverses the islet. An assemblage of ships, houses, and numerous spires, greeted us with a look of more public importance than we had been used to for several weeks, as we drew near the city. It would require a volume to give an adequate description of this place: all that my limits will allow me to say is, that it is one of the fairest cities in England, regularly composed of four principal wide well-built streets, meeting at right angles in the middle of the town; abounding with Gothic churches and other public structures, and a new-built gaol, which is one of the best in the kingdom. But its chief ornament is its truly grand cathedral, remarkable for its elegant tower, surmounted with four transparent pinnacles of the most exquisite workmanship, and for having the largest Gothic window in Britain: nor is it less to be noticed for the curious ramifications and transomes of its fretted roof, and the high state of enrichment throughout the structure. {355} We ascended to the summit of the tower, where “The bursting prospect spreads immense around: And, snatch’d o’er hill and dale, and wood and lawn, And verdant fields, and dark’ning heath between, And villages embosom’d soft in trees, And spiry towns by surging columns mark’d Of household make, your eye excursive roams To where the broken landscape, by degrees Ascending, roughens into rigid hills; O’er which the Cambrian mountains, like far clouds That skirt the blue horizon, dusky rise.” A tributary sigh escaped as we caught the last gleam of our much-loved principality; nor can I conclude my subject without transmitting that view of the Welch individual character and state of society (particularly alluding to the southern district), which impressed me during my tour, and which I have since believed to be just. Wales may be considered as exhibiting almost the sole remnant of “the good old times” existing in Britain. Separated from those causes of extrinsic splendour which domineer over other parts of our island, the opulent landholders freely dispense the wealth of their inheritance with unostentatious liberality. Indifferent to outward shew, their first cares evince a parental regard to the poor on their domains, and the maintenance of their forefathers’ good cheer. An interchange of good offices is alike conspicuous between them and the commonalty; and it is no less pleasing to see the friendly solicitude of the one, than the unaffected respect and attachment of the other.