coming up to blow, is the favourite excursion of the good people from Bath and Bristol who frequent the place. But a few years ago it was a small fishing village; now it contains many thousand inhabitants, supports a newspaper, and keeps a railway going! Not far from Weston are two of the most remarkable spots in the west of England -the Banwell Caves, and the Cheddar Cliffs. The caves are extraordinary places; people who come to see them naturally look about them, expecting to find some hint of their neighbourhood, but they find nothing but a little rustic cottage, situated on a gently rising hill. These caves are completely subterranean, and are reached by ladders extending a great depth in the earth. There are two principal caves, in which a vast number of bones of the bear, wolf, buffalo, and stag, are found all together embedded in a mass of mud. How they came there is a question which geologists have yet to decide.

The Cheddar Cliffs are most extraordinary instances of rock scenery. Some of these cliffs are upwards of 800 feet high, and are in places so narrowly separated from each other, that they present rather the appearance of a deep fissure than a chain of rocks. They grow gradually wider at other parts, and when we can get a little space to view them in, they look sublime indeed. A very curious stalactite cavern has lately been discovered in them. The visitor enters by a fine porch, from which start three or four passages, some twelve feet in width by forty feet in height. From the roof and sides of these halls drop the most fantastic and beautiful marble stalactites. In some places these singular petrifactions take the forms of pillars hung with graceful drapery; at others, they mimic the animal and vegetable creation, &c. The proprietor, who shows the cave, points out here and there a piece of bacon, a loaf of bread, a plant, or animal. When lit up by candlelight, the full effect of this singular place is seen to perfection. We question, however, whether the lovers of the picturesque will not be more pleased by the picture from the outside of this cave; for there we have a superb view of the rocks rising behind a large sheet of the purest water, on the banks of which tea-gardens are laid out, and upon whose silvery bosom a pleasure-boat, freighted with a party of musicians, might at times be seen to glide, whilst their instruments awaken the echoes of the adjacent cliffs. A view of the Wye and its transcendent beauties has already been given in a previous number of the Land we Live in,' we need not, therefore, here do more than allude to a spot whose fame crowds the Chepstow steamers in the summer with tourists. Packets leave Bristol twice a day for Newport, in whose neighbourhood there are many interesting remains. The Castle, situated on the banks of the Usk, was once a very strong place, and still presents to the front of the river three very formidable towers. The town of Newport is said to have risen upon the ruins of Caerleon, in the time of the Romans; a splendid city, which, according to some writers, was no less than nine miles in cir

cumference, and contained many splendid palaces and aqueducts.

Its successor, Newport, certainly cannot vie with this traditionary magnificence. Its chief riches consists in the piles of iron and coal which line the river side for shipment. Newport is the natural port for these two strong sinews of English power; and on some occasions, as many as seventy or a hundred sail might be seen working their way down the Usk river—the majority, dirty colliers, we admit; but all under bellying sail they make a goodly and cheering show. Here many of the large ships, outward bound from Bristol, come to take in their return cargo. It was much feared that the building of docks at this place would injure the former port; but it has since proved to be her most valuable channel wharf. In the neighbourhood of Newport there is some very beautiful scenery; Ebwy Vale, for instance, is picturesque in the extreme. Farther westward, the Vale of Neath and the waterfalls of Pont Neath Vaughan occur, in which passages of scenry are to be found that cannot be surpassed in England.

The immediate neighbourhood of Bristol is extremely beautiful. Indeed there are so many nooks and corners, so many woodlands and picturesque bits of rocky scenery, that we scarce know where to choose. At Stapleton and Frenchay, two villages only three or four miles from the city, situated upon the river Frome, which here is scarcely more than a running brook, we have pertect miniatures of the scenery at Clifton. Cliffs on the one side, steep woodland on the other, here and there an old watermill, with its lazy pool,-mirror to the gray rocks,comes in, and adds the one last feature required to make the picture perfect. At Henbury and Brislington again there are delightful walks: at the former place the Valley of Blaize, as it is called, affords some charming scenery. Here is a great rock, called Goram's Chair. Goram and Vincent were two giants, who competed a "long time ago," as they say in story-books, in cutting asunder St. Vincent's rocks. Goram, however, finding it, we suppose, hot work, or perhaps more sensibly determining to let his brother giant do the hard work, sat down on this singularly-shaped rock and went conveniently to sleep, while St. Vincent completed the job, and obtained all the credit of his labour, as he deserved to do. As there were no other giants, however, in these parts, where the credit came from we are at a loss to know. The Henbury Cottages, a better class of alms-houses, erected close to this valley, draws visitors from far and near to see them. They are all situated on a green, and lie quite embosomed in trees. They were designed by Nash, and there can be no doubt that he knew more about building cottages than palaces. This little group of buildings is perfectly unique. The best champaign view in the neigbourhood is obtained from King's Weston Hill: from this spot the spectator can follow the course of the Avon and Severn, and see across the channel as far, in clear weather, as the "bold Bloringe," and other still more distant mountains in Wales. Perhaps a greater extent

of country might be seen from Dundry Tower-a landmark, visible from nearly every part of Bristol and its neighbourhood.

Dundry Tower is situated on the long chain of hills which run in a southern course five miles from the city. From the battlements of this beautiful building, -which is almost as elegant a piece of architecture as St. Stephen's Tower, indeed, in some features it is even more perfect than that building, as it still retains the beautiful crocketed or overhanging pinnacles of open work, which were destroyed at St. Stephen's Tower in the early part of the last century by a high wind-we have a splendid view. To the north, a most luxuriant country stretches away to where Bristol lies enshrouded in a thick mist of smoke, and to the east we see the outskirts of Bath. Beyond these two cities the hills, among which Calne and Devizes, Stroud and Berkeley, lie hidden, are observable. The Severn, with its wide silvery flood, for nearly forty miles of its length, can be traced; and in the west rise to view the Quantock Hills, near Bridgewater; whilst to the south, the eye ranges down a magnificent slope, and across a breadth of fine English land as far as Warminster and the neighbourhood of Frome. Amid the most luxuriant foliage the country is seen to be dotted with church towers of handsome proportions; indeed the whole county is rich in ecclesiastical architecture. Scarcely such a thing as a steeple is to be seen in this part of Somersetshire; tall and graceful towers, of beautiful workmanship, will be found in the most insignificant villages. Not far from Dundry, at a village called Stanton Drew-or, as it has been rendered, the Stone Town of the Druids' - there are some very remarkable remains connected with this ancient religion.

In most cases we find Druidical stones situated on Downs or in barren spots; but those to be found here are interspersed between meadows and orchards. They consist of three circles of stones: the largest circle measures 342 feet in diameter. Only five stones of this belt remain; these are situated at very irregular intervals; and consequently have scarcely the appearance of having been placed there with any particular design. The smallest circle lies close at hand, and is about 96 feet in diameter: it is composed of eight very large and most irregularly-shaped stones, only four of which are now standing: they form a complete round, and clearly indicate the use to which they had been put. The Lunar Temple, as it has been called by Dr. Stukeley, is distant from the great circle 700 feet and upwards. Its diameter is about 150 feet, and it contains eleven stones. There are numerous superstitions and tales connected with these curious remains. The country people call them 'the Wedding,'-the tale going that the company at a wedding were suddenly turned into stone; and they even point out the different individuals that formed this very unhappy group. The bride and bridegroom were represented by these stones, the fiddlers by those, and a company of dancers by the cluster beyond. If so,

all we can say is, the people in those days were of most Brobdingnagian proportions: the bridegroom must have been of an intolerable size, and the bride a great deal larger than she ought to have been. The country people allege the same sort of difficulty in counting these stones is found as at other places where similar remains exist. They tell a story of a baker, who, determining to do a sum in addition which his neighbours could not manage, set about it by putting a loaf of bread upon every stone he counted; but, somehow or other, he always found one stone uncovered by a half-quartern, and he gave up his task at length in despair. Not far from this group are some stones, either isolated, or in pairs. One large mass of rock called Hackell's Quoit, is said to have been thrown there from an enormous distance by a giant! Being generally formed of limestone, the road-mender has helped himself pretty plentifully to some of them; and in the course of a century they will perhaps have wholly disappeared. In a more westerly direction, and this side of the Dundry Hills, lies a cluster of villages of the most romantic character. Congresbury and Yatton would particularly repay the visitor, both by their scenery and their churches. There is a celebrated valley at Congresbury, to which pic-nic parties resort from Bristol. The church is a very fine edifice, but not equal to the one at Yatton, which is built quite in the style of a cathedral. The Gloucestershire villages in the neighbourhood of Bristol are not so rich in appearance as its Somersetshire environs, but several of them are much frequented by the Bristolians. The Old and New Passages, two ferries across the Severn, are very favourite places of resort in summer. The New Passage derives its name from a singular historical circumstance. Charles I., being pursued by a party of Parliamentarians, through Shire Newton, embarked in a boat at the Black Rock (New Passage) and was ferried safely to the opposite shore. A number of his pursuers compelled other boatmen to carry them after him; but the ferrymen being of the King's party, set them down upon a reef called the English Stones, and them to believe that the rest of the passage was fordable. The Parliamentary troopers immediately made the attempt, but were all drowned, and the King thus escaped. Cromwell, enraged at his prey escaping him, revenged himself by shutting up this ferry; and it was not re-opened until 1713, and then it received its present name of the New Passage. The Old Passage is situated some miles further up the river, and it forms the principal ferry upon it. At high tide it is two miles across, and is traversed by a steamer every quarter of an hour. The Welsh mail goes across by this passage. Not far hence is the village of Thornbury, famous for its ruinous castle, which was begun by Edward Duke of Buckingham. Thornbury also possesses a very large Church, built in a cruciform shape, and surmounted with a very beautiful tower. Many of the Gloucestershire villages afford fine fields for the antiquary, as their churches generally are of a very early date.

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EARLY HISTORY OF BATH. It is very rarely the case that the history of a city is carried back to its very source. In most instances the extreme distance is lost in the haze of fable, through which we catch vague glimpses of men and things assuming almost gigantic proportions. The good people of Bath, however, see clearer than their neighbours, and run back the line of their city's history until they at last arrive at a founder who counts only the thirtieth in descent from Adam himself! We question if any city in the Principality would desire a more respectable pedigree. Still more extraodinary is their belief that the most polite city in England owes its very existence to the sagacity of a herd of swine! Bathonians notoriously put faith in the story of king Bladud, and why should not we? They place his bust over the door of one of their principal banks, as though to give a golden currency to the tale: we cannot then be accused of literary "smashing," for doing our little to pass the somewhat apocryphal coin on to posterity.

According to the most approved accounts of the origin of Bath, Bladud, son of the British king Hudibras, was so unfortunate in his youth as to contract a leperous disease; and as in those times they were not quite so humane as they are now, he was, on the petition of the nobles, banished from his father's court, lest the loathsome affliction should spread to themselves. The queen, with a true woman's affection, however, presented him with a ring, as a token by which she should know him again in case he should ever return cured. The prince departed, and after wandering some time in exile, hired himself to a swineherd, whom he found feeding his pigs not far from the site of the future city. The Royal swineherd was so unfortunate, however, as to infect his charge with his own disease; and fearing that the fact would become known to his master, he separated from him, and drove his pigs towards the vast forests that at that time crowned the Lansdown and Beacon hills. The swine, however, taught by nature to medicine their own dis

tempers, made straight for the spot whence issued the hot-springs, and here wallowed in the marsh caused by its overflowing waters. This kindly oblation soon cured thern of their disease; which Bladud perceiving, he applied the same remedy, with the like good effect, to his own person. Thus cured, he appeared again before the old herdsman, his master, informed him of the miraculous cure that had been performed upon himself and pigs; and added further to his astonishment, by proclaiming that he was a king's son. To convince him of this fact, he led him to his father's court, and seizing an opportunity when the king and queen banqueted in public, he dropped into the royal goblet the ring his mother had given him. As the queen drank (and they did more than taste the rim of the cup in those days), she perceived at the bottom the glittering token, and thus became aware of the presence of her son. Bladud afterwards succeeded to the throne, and rewarded his old master by granting him a handsome estate near the hot-springs, and building him a palace and outhouses for his followers. 1 These together made a town divided into two parts, the north town and the south town, to which the swineherd affixed the name of the animals that had been the cause of his good fortune; and even now the north part of the town is called Hogs Norton, but by some Norton Small-Reward, from a tradition that the king's bounty was looked upon by the swineherd as a small reward for what he had done for him. The king himself, it would seem, terminated his career in a very unfortunate manner; for, being of an aspiring disposition, like Rasselas he made an essay at flying, and was even more unfortunate than that prince of romance, for he fell down upon the tower of Salisbury Cathedral, and broke his neck! Puerile as is this

tradition, yet would it be a golden one if it should have given Shakspere a hint for his Cymbeline,' and if in Bladud he should have found his Polydore.

It seems very doubtful whether the hot-springs of Bath were made use of by the Britons; and in all probability no settlement existed here until that made by the Romans under the Emperor Claudius, who conquered and took possession of the neighbouring country about half a century before the birth of Christ. As Roman Bath lay wholly in a valley, such a situation must have been chosen by that people for other than military purposes; and there can be no reasonable doubt, addicted as they were to the use of the warm-bath, that the hot-springs were the chief attraction of the spot. These they collected, and erected over them buildings which even the Bath of the present day cannot rival. An excavation that was made in 1755, near the abbey, exposed to view a series of Roman baths of the most perfect and magnificent description. The following account of them, given in the History of Somersetshire,' will show how far beyond us they were in the construction of such buildings:

"The walls of these baths were eight feet in height, built of wrought stone lined with a strong cement of terras: one of them was of a semicircular form, fifteen feet in diameter, with a stone seat round it eighteen inches high, and floored with very smooth flag-stones. The descent into it was by seven steps, and a small channel for conveying the water ran along the bottom, turning at a right angle towards the present King's bath. At a small distance from this was a very large oblong bath, having on three sides a colonnade surrounded with small pilasters, which were probably intended to support a roof. On one side of this bath were two sudatories, nearly square, the floors of which