fertile, level country around Hereford to the rough, broken hills near
the river's source, but the view was always picturesque in the highest
degree. The road runs along the edge of the hills, and the glorious
valley with its brawling river spread out before us almost the entire
day. At times we ran through forests, which cover the immense parks
surrounding the country estates along the river. We saw many fine
English country-seats, ranging from old, castellated structures to
apparently modern mansions. There are also a number of ruins along the
valley, each with its romantic legends. At Hay, on the hill overlooking
the town, is the castle, partly in ruins and partly in such state of
repair as to be the summer home of the family that owns it. A little
farther, upon a knoll directly overhanging the river, are crumbling
piles of stone where once stood Clifford Castle, the home of Fair
Rosamond, whose melancholy story Tennyson has woven into one of his
dramas.

As we advanced farther up the valley, the country grew wilder and more
broken and for many miles we ran through the towering hills that pass
for mountains in Wales. These were covered with bright-green verdure to
their very tops, and the flocks of sheep grazing everywhere lent an
additional charm to the picture. At the foot of the hills the road
follows the valleys with gentle curves and easy grades. The Wye dwindles
to the merest brook, and some miles before we reached the coast, we
passed the head waters of the river and followed a brook flowing in an
opposite direction.

The road over which we had traveled is not favorable for fast time.
Though comparatively level and with splendid surface, it abounds in
sharp curves and in many places runs along high embankments. The Motor
Union has recommended that eighteen miles per hour be not exceeded on