h hang down the sides of steep hills. Narrow slips
of meadow of a beautiful verdure in some places form the shore, and unite
with cultivated fields that spread over the adjoining hills, reaching
almost the mountain tops. These are large and bold, and give in general
to the scenes features of great magnificence. Passed Sir John Hasler's
on the opposite side of the river, finely situated, and Mr. Nicholson's
farm on this side, who has very extensive copses which line the river.
Coming in sight of Sir W. Fownes's, the scenery is striking; the road
mounts the side of the hill, and commands the river at the bottom of the
declivity, with groups of trees prettily scattered about, and the little
borough of Innisteague in a most picturesque situation, the whole bounded
by mountains. Cross the bridge, and going through the town, take a path
that leads to a small building in the woods, called Mount Sandford. It
is at the top of a rocky declivity almost perpendicular, but with brush
wood growing from the rocks. At the bottom is the river, which comes
from the right from behind a very bold hanging wood, that seems to unite
with the hill on the opposite shore. At this pass the river fills the
vale, but it widens by degrees, and presents various reaches, intermixed
with little tufts of trees. The bridge we passed over is half hid.
Innisteague is mixed with them, and its buildings backed by a larger
wood, give variety to the scene. Opposite to the point of view there are
some pretty enclosures, fringed with wood, and a line of cultivated
mountain sides, with their bare tops limit the whole.

Taking my leave of Mr. Bushe, I followed the road to Ross. Passed
Woodstock, of which there is a very fine view from the top of one of the
hills, the house in the centre of a sloping wood of five hundred English
acres, and hanging in one noble shade to the river, which flows at the
bottom of a winding glen. From the same hill in front it is seen in a
winding course for many miles through a great extent of enclosures,
bounded by mountains. As I advanced the views of the river Nore were
very fine, till I came to Ross, where from the hill before you go down to
the ferry is a noble scene of the Barrow, a vast river flowing through
bold shores. In some places trees on the bank half obscure it, in others
it opens in large reaches, the effect equally grand and beautiful. Ships
sailing up to the town, which is built on the side of a hill to the