brought us through a very rich country; and on ascending a hill, about
five miles from Montgomery, a retrospect of the far distant mountainous
country of Wales, to which we were now bidding a last adieu, irresistibly
brought on a train of serious reflections. In a retrospect like this,
where the subject and the scene must inspire serious thoughts, such
traces are not unpleasing; they tend to promote one general effect—the
love of contemplation. We enumerated the little incidents which had
taken place, indulging reflections on scenes for ever past:—we erected,
on the spot which we esteemed most adapted to retirement, the visionary
cottage: our schemes were instantly arranged,—fancy fashioned its
ornaments, adapted its appendages;—and fancy will ever exceed realities.
But all our air-built plans of future happiness soon vanished:—and alas!
when
—“fancy scatters roses all around,
What blissful visions rise! In prospect bright
Awhile they charm the foul: but scarce attain’d,
The gay delusion fades. Another comes,
The soft enchantment is again renew’d,
And youth again enjoys the airy dreams
Of fancied good.”—
Bishops Castle is situated in a bottom: we found it a more extensive
place than we had any idea of expecting; but being shortly convinced,
that there was nothing particular to require a long stay, and having
recruited ourselves at the Castle Inn, we hastened to leave the town.
The road, for the first seven miles, continually dipped into shallow
vallies, well wooded, affording cursory views, with many a substantial
farmer’s habitation lurking amongst the trees. At length, a rich and
noble vale, with extensive woods, on our right, animated with several
gentlemen’s seats, and watered by an overflowing stream, running
immediately close to the road, accompanied us to