across the
estuary, and were in the Wye--one of the most romantic rivers in the
country, the scenery of which will occupy much of this letter.

After going up the river a little way, we saw a town upon the left bank
and a noble castle. This is Chepstow. It is finely ensconced in a
hollow. The town is irregular, and depends for its prosperity on its
commerce. The castle is really a noble ruin and crowns a high bluff
which rises from the river. I do not know how any one can ask for a
lovelier landscape than is opened to the view off the bridge which spans
the river.

The castle was built by a relation of William the Conqueror. Its style
is Norman, with more modern additions. The tide rises here to an
elevation of from fifty to sixty feet. This is owing to rooks which
stretch into the Severn near the mouth of the Wye, and, by hindering the
tide, turn it into this small river.

On landing, we engaged a carriage and pair of horses for the excursion,
and were soon off. We stopped for lunch at St. Arvan's, a village one
mile off, and a beautiful place it is--a perfect gem of a country
street. But the glorious scenery of the region calls off attention from
the modest hamlet. How I should like, as in my boyish days, to make
head-quarters here for a week, and then strike out for daily
explorations.

We passed by the fine mansion at Piercefield, and devoted our time to
the glorious points of natural scenery on the banks of this most
charming stream--for Americans can hardly call it a river. We walked now
about two miles through an oak wood, in which is a sprinkling of ash and
elm, till we came to the very edge of a cliff called the "Lover's Leap."
It overhangs an awful abyss, the depth of which is softened down by the
woods which cover the neighboring rooks. A little off from this we came
to the famous Wynd Cliff. Its summit is fringed with wood, and covers
its declivities down to the river. To describe the scenery, my dear boy,
from this spot, is quite beyond my ability. I wish that Sir Walter Scott
had attempted it, and made this region the scene of one of his
beautiful creations. From this spot you see all the course of the Wye,
with its numerous sinuosities--in one place cutting out a few acres into
a horse-shoe peninsula. As the eye follows down the river, you gaze on
perpendicular, rocky cliffs, and can hardly persuade yourself that you
do not look at the immense fortifications of a town. But that peaceful
little penins