some most noble rocks, “Nature’s proud bastions,” opened upon us to the left, grander than any we had hitherto admired, and which we had previously determined were inconceivably fine, and surpassed any idea we had formed of the channel of this romantic river. To add to the magnificence of the whole, the setting sun tinged the rocks with the most resplendent colours, and the dewy freshness of the evening improved the charm of the scene; the one enchanting the sense, the other refreshing it. The lofty Wynd Cliff to the right; and Piercefield, with the curious projecting rocks, called the Twelve Apostles and Peter’s Thumb, heighten, to the very extent of beauty, this noble view; gratifying beyond measure to the admirer of nature. Another reach brought us in sight of Chepstow Castle, on a prominent rock, of which it seemed to form a part; noble in situation, and grand in appearance. The handsome new bridge, the rocks, and the scarce visible town, here made a most charming picture: this we enjoyed exceedingly, but regretted a few more minutes would set us on shore, and conclude our excursion on the Wye; an excursion, which, the farther we proceeded the more we were interested; and so much so, as to determine a renewal of this pleasing tour another summer. The former wooden bridge over the Wye at this place was of very singular construction; the boards forming the flooring were all designedly loose, but prevented by pegs, fastened at the extremities of them, from being carried away by the tide, and by that ingenious contrivance they gradually rose and fell with it. The tide is here frequently known to rise to the extraordinary height of seventy feet. Not having visited the church in consequence of the bad weather at the commencement of our tour, we determined now to inspect it. The entrance through the western door is an elegant specimen of Saxon architecture, richly wrought, with three arches; in the inside is the monument of Henry Marten, one of the regicides who presided at the condemnation of King Charles I., and was confined in the castle twenty years. It contains also a cenotaph to the memory of the Marquis of Worcester, and a tomb dated 1620, to the memory of Mrs. Clayton and her two husbands, who are both represented as kneeling. This church originally belonged to the alien Benedictine priory of Strigule, but was converted at the Reformation into the parish church of Chepstow. Admittance to the celebrated walks of Piercefield can only be obtained on Tuesdays and Fridays. To survey these with that attention which they deserve, would occupy several hours; the liveliest description cannot do justice to the rich and bold scenery, with all its accompaniments; the eye can alone receive the impression; for, “How long soe’er the wand’rer roves, each step Shall wake fresh beauties, each short point presents A diff’rent picture; new, and yet the same.”