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 please. Wandering at its own
sweet will, the river here goes freely on its way, bubbling and brawling
at the fords, gathering itself up into deep, dark lakes carved out of the
softer rocks over which it flows, or dividing to embrace some