formed a “rural confusion.” The velocity of the stream shortly brought us to that noble scenery, about four miles from Ross, which so eminently distinguishes and constitutes the beauty of the Wye: before us the noble remains of Goodrich Castle, cresting a steep eminence, enveloped with trees, presented themselves; behind, the thick foliage of Chase Woods closed the picture. The happiest gradation of tints, and the liveliest blending of colours were here conspicuous. On the right hand we landed on the shore, in order to make a minute investigation of the castle: it is certainly a grand ruin, and stands on an eminence, naturally so steep as to render it in former times capable of some resistance against a formidable enemy. On our first entrance into the ruin we naturally indulged reflections on past scenes, contemplated the traces of ancient splendor; and, connecting what remains with what is destroyed, we pondered on the vanity of human art and the ravages of time, which exhibit in this ruin their completest triumph. The warrior who strove to preserve its original grandeur against the attacks of Cromwell is buried in Walford Church, situated on the opposite side of the river, and seen from the castle. The different parts of the building bear evident marks of its having been erected at various times: from a seat in the castle-yard is the most advantageous spot for surveying, in one view, the whole of this ruin: {310} an octagon pillar of light and elegant workmanship, is seen to great advantage through the gateway, and adds considerably to the magnificence of this ancient pile: it now belongs to Dr. Griffin, of Hadnock, the lord of the manor.