the
Britons had a fortified town here which they defended against the Roman
attacks; and after having become possessed of it, the Romans greatly
strengthened it as a defense against incursions from the Welsh tribes.
Before the Norman Conquest, it was of such importance that Edward the
Confessor held his court in the town for some time. Being in the west
country, it naturally was a storm-center in the parliamentary struggle,
during which time a great deal of the city was destroyed. But there are
many of the old portions still remaining and it has numbers of beautiful
half-timbered buildings. One of these was the home of Robert Raikes,
known to the world as the founder of the Sunday School. Gloucester is
worthy of a longer stay than we were able to make, and in arranging an
itinerary one should not fail to provide for a full day in the town.

[Illustration: IN GLOUCESTERSHIRE.

From Water Color by A. Waters.]

From Gloucester to Ross runs an excellent highway, though rather devoid
of interest. It was thronged with motorists who generally dashed along
in sublime disregard of the speed limits. We passed several who were
occupied with "roadside troubles" and we were in for an hour or so
ourselves, due to a refractory "vibrator." The Welsh farmers who passed
joked us good-naturedly and one said he would stick to his horse until
he had money to buy a motor--then, he added, he wouldn't buy it, but
would live on the income of the money. We told him that he was a man
after Solomon's own heart. Suddenly the evil spirit left the car and she
sprang away over the beautiful road in mad haste that soon landed us in
Ross.

Ross is a pretty village, situated on a green hillside overlooking the
Wye, and the tall, graceful spire of its church dominates all views of
the town. Although it was growing quite late, we did not stop here, but
directed our way to Monmouth, twelve miles farther on, which we reached
just as the long twilight was turning into night.

[Illustration: DISTANT VIEW OF ROSS, SOUTH WELSH BORDER.]

VIII

THROUGH BEAUTIFUL WALES

Of no part of our tour does a pleasanter memory linger than of the five
or six hundred miles on the highways of Wales. The weather was glorious
and no section of Britain surpassed the Welsh landscapes in beauty. A
succession of green hills, in places impressive enough to be styled
mountains, sloping away into wooded valleys, with here and there a
quaint village, a ruined castle or