. . . “fancy scatters roses all around, What blissful visions rise! In prospect bright Awhile they charm the soul; but scarce attain’d, The gay delusion fades. Another comes; The soft enchantment is again renew’d, And youth again enjoys the airy dreams Of fancied good.” Bishop’s Castle is situated in a bottom. We found it a more extensive place than we expected; but being shortly convinced that there was nothing particular to require a long stay, and having recruited ourselves at the Castle Inn, we hastened to leave the town. The road, for the first seven miles, continually dipped into shallow valleys, well wooded, affording cursory views, with many a substantial farmer’s habitation lurking amongst the trees. At length a rich and noble vale, with extensive woods on our right, animated with several gentlemen’s seats, and watered by an overflowing stream running immediately close to the road accompanied us to LUDLOW, situated on an eminence in the midst of this most luxuriant country. After the many indifferent Welsh towns which we had passed through since the commencement of our pedestrian excursion, we felt ourselves not a little chagrined at our uncouth appearance on entering so gay a place. The streets are commodious, and the houses and public buildings extremely neat. The gravel walks round the castle are extensive, and command, at occasional points, distinct prospects of the gentlemen’s seats in the neighbourhood, with their grounds and noble plantations. The river Teme gives additional beauty to this fascinating spot: the new bridge recently erected, a little below the castle, forms likewise, from this spot, by no means an uninteresting object; add to this, at suitable distances, the river, by means of dams, is formed into small artificial cascades. At the extremity of the town is another bridge, separating the counties of Shropshire and Hereford. These walks were laid out in the year 1772, by the Countess of Powis, at a great expense. The overshadowing trees not only afford refreshing shelter from a summer’s sun, but are likewise a protection from the piercing winter’s wind: indeed, . . . “I could rove At morn, at noon, at eve, by lunar ray, In each returning season, through your shade, Ye rev’rend woods; could visit every dell, Each hill, each breezy lawn, each wand’ring brook, And bid the world admire; each magic spot again Could seek, and tell again of all its charms.” Towards the north, the mazy course of the Teme,—Oakley Park, the elegant seat of the Dowager Lady Clive,—the Clee Hills,—the celebrated Caer Caradoc, with the other eminences near Stretton, terminating the view, present a most pleasing landscape. Towards the west, a combination of rock, wood, and water, gratifies the warmest wish of fancy.