It is generally admitted, from the records of the ancient historical writers, that on the spot where Oswald was slain a Monastery was founded, dedicated to him in the character of a Saint. It was called _Blanc-Minster_, or the White Monastery, and was situated according to Leland, “on the south side of the town.” The time of the foundation or dissolution is not known, but its situation is fixed near the site of the parish church, as some remains of the building are said to have been discovered in digging graves in the churchyard. A spot of ground near the church, still called _Erw-Myneich_, or Monk’s Acre, would indicate that Blanc-Minster was contiguous to it. In the reign of Henry VIII., as we have already stated, Leland visited Oswestry, and noted that at that period “the cloister only was standing within the memory of persons then living.” Before closing this notice we would recommend all visitors to Oswestry to make a pilgrimage to Oswald’s Well. The scenery around it is replete with beauty; and if the day be fine and warm, a draught of the water, which constantly bubbles up in freshness and pellucid clearness, will cheer and not inebriate. The inhabitants possess in this Well a valuable natural treasure which it is their duty to preserve, for their common benefit, free from all impurities and contaminations. ANCIENT CUSTOMS. In a work partly descriptive of the Border Lands of England and Wales, it might be deemed a reproach were we silently to pass by the customs that once prevailed in the district. Many of those ancient customs were innocent and harmless in their character, whilst others were connected with superstition which kept the people in mental darkness, and impeded the free course of education and knowledge. Our notice of these customs will be brief, for they are no longer observed in the town, and but slightly so, if at all, in the neighbourhood. The printing-press has exploded such folly, and most of the ancient customs will very soon, throughout our land, be referred to only as evidences of the ignorance of our forefathers, and their disregard of the educational improvement of their fellow-creatures. SHROVE TUESDAY and its observances were vestiges of a Roman Carnival, when, as Aubanus tells us, “men eat and drank and abandoned themselves to all kinds of foolery, as if resolved to have their fill of pleasure before they were to die.” “Pancake Bell” is now unheard, because no sexton or bell-ringer can be found to pull the rope. Men and women do eat pancakes which, when well made, even Soyer would not object to; and such gastronomy is, we believe, the sum-total of Shrove-tide observances in the present enlightened day. Cock-fighting, bull-baiting, and other brutal amusements, formerly practised on this day, are abandoned, we trust, for ever.