repeopling the Severn with those members
of the finny tribe once common to its waters. Steam-tugs and trows,
propelled by screw or paddle, now navigate the river, each with a dozen
old-fashioned barges at its stern; but this portion of the Severn being
comparatively free, it is a favourite breeding place with pike, who for
reproductive purposes seek the stillest portions of the stream. Dowles
Ford, at the mouth of the brook of that name, which enters the river a
little above Bewdley, also Laxlane Ford, and Folly's Ford, are each
famous for their trout.

Leaving Bewdley, we pass the line of railway to Tenbury, but confine
ourselves to the Valley of the Severn, along which the river and the rail
are now close companions nearly all the way to Shrewsbury. The elevation
of the embankment above the river affords glimpses of Bewdley Forest, or,
as Drayton calls it, the Stately Wyre.

"These scenes are desert now and bare,
Where nourished once a forest fair;
When these waste glens with copse were lined,
And peopled with the hart and hind."

But portions of the district still are wooded, affording famous fields
for botanists. Seckley Wood comes down to meet the bold projecting rocks
above the river; and we have Eyemoor Wood and others right and left on
approaching Upper or Over Arley.

ARLEY,

Twenty miles from Worcester, is one of the sweetest little villages along
the line. Its ferry on the river, its timbered cottages, partially
concealed in green indentations of the hill, its grey church tower, and
those of the castle near, are a picture of themselves; but when showers
of blossoms crown the orchard trees in spring, or ruddy fruits hang ripe
in autumn, the scene is more enchanting still.

The castle tower is 120 feet in height, and commands an extensive sweep
of country, through which the Severn in the distance winds its way, in
and out, like a silver thread. The gardens and grounds contain rare
shrubs and trees, imported by the late Earl Mountnorris; to visit which
R. Woodward, Esq., the present proprietor, like the late earl, very
rarely refuses his permission.

The railway having crossed the Severn by the Victoria Bridge, an iron
structure, 200 feet in span, now continues its course along the right
bank of the stream, disclosing glimpses now and then of gentle sweeps and
undulating lines of wood and field, where quiet tones of light and shade,
with sweet harmonious tints, refresh and pleas