[Illustration: I]t has been justly remarked by statistical writers, that, in point of fertility, picturesque scenery, and classic remains, the county of Monmouth is one of the most interesting districts in the kingdom. Highly favoured by nature, it is literally studded over with the labours and embellishments of art. Watered by noble rivers, sheltered by magnificent woods and forests, interspersed with industrious towns and hamlets, and enriched by the labour and enterprise of its inhabitants, it presents all those features of soil and scenery which contribute to the beauty and stability of a country. From whatever point the traveller may enter this county, historical landmarks meet him at every step: feudal and monastic ruins, rich in the history of departed dynasties, divide his attention, and fill his mind with their heroic deeds and pious traditions. In fields where the husbandman now reaps his peaceful harvest, he traces the shock of contending armies; whose deadly weapons still rust in furrows which their valour had won, and which the blood of the Roman, the Saxon, and Briton had fertilized. From these he turns aside to contemplate the fragments of baronial grandeur, which attest the glory of chivalry, but now, like sepulchral mounds, proclaim the deeds of their founders:--such is the Castle of <g>Raglan</g>. In another district, sculptures, pavements, altars, statues, coins, and inscriptions, bear testimony to Roman sway:--such is the Silurian settlement of <g>Caerleon</g>, with its classic vicinity. On another hand, where the ivy has clasped its hallowed walls, as if to prop their decay, the traveller halts at some monastic rain; and, amid the crumbling fragments of its lofty arches, its richly-carved windows, shafts, and capitals, dwells with a deep and melancholy interest on the page of its eventful history. In such places the voice of Tradition is never mute: the vacant niche, the dismantled tower, the desecrated altar, the deserted choir--all discourse eloquent and impressive music; and in places where the sacred harp was once strung, its chords seem still touched by invisible hands:--such are the Abbeys of <g>Tinterne</g> and <g>Llanthony</g>. It is among these remains and monuments of the past--the early homes of saints and heroes of the olden day--that we propose to conduct the reader. In the tour projected, we avail ourselves of such materials as personal investigation, with that of distinguished predecessors, poets, and historians, has furnished from times of remote antiquity, down to the present day. The scenery of the <g>Wye</g> is of classic and proverbial beauty: it is the theme alike of poet and historian, the annual resort of pilgrims--whether admirers of the picturesque, or valetudinarians; and nowhere in the kingdom is nature more lavish of those charms which attract all classes of tourists, than in the course and confines of this beautiful and romantic river.[1] There--