At Hereford we for some time hesitated respecting the hire of a boat to convey us to Ross; but the exorbitant demand of the boatmen soon determined us to pursue the turnpike road, and follow as near as possible the course of the Wye. The orchards were overcharged with “bending fruit,” and seemed to prognosticate a more favourable cider season than has of late been experienced. The retrospect of the city, with its ancient cathedral, formed a most attracting view; and about three miles a most lovely vale, bounded by the hills of South Wales, arrested our attention. A continuation of the same scenery of orchards, in which Herefordshire so peculiarly abounds, with the road continually dipping into shallow valleys, attended us within five miles of Ross; when, ascending a steep hill, a view of that town, or, rather, of its far-conspicuous spire, broke in upon the reposing character of the scene. This presently conducted us to Wilton bridge, thrown over the Wye; and, leaving the castle to the left, we ascended the town of ROSS, to the inn, so celebrated as the original habitation of Mr. Kyrle; more generally known by the name of the Man of Ross. The landlord seems rather to depend upon the custom of strangers, and from this circumstance the inn offers indifferent accommodations. On the bridge we paused a short time to take a view of the meandering Vaga, which here considerably widens. Several pleasure-boats, of various constructions, were riding at anchor, and united to enliven the watery scene; whilst its smooth tranquil surface reflected and reverted every object situated on the banks. The life and character of Mr. Kyrle has too often been insisted on, and too frequently celebrated in verse, to be again repeated, unless to “point out its moral to the heart;” teaching us that self-approbation can confer an inward happiness superior to all worldly applause; for, “What nothing earthly gives, or can destroy; The soul’s calm sunshine, and the heart-felt joy, Is virtue’s prize.”