ON THE WYE 91 



welcome. I remember his features and style of 

 chirping about, and also his son Andrew, a 

 youth of about twenty, who inspired me with 

 great awe, for he was a born musician and 

 clever mechanician ; he had made himself a 

 violin, and could play on it most divinely. I 

 could not on this renewed visit recall the resid- 

 ence, which was somewhere outside the village, 

 but a tall pillar of granite, which was surmounted 

 by an ancient sundial, and situated on a mound 

 in the middle of the village, seemed to remind 

 me that I had seen it before in the ancient 

 days. 



My second reason for coming to see Dorstone 

 was on account of the fishing. The river 

 Dore takes its source in the Golden Well, in 

 this parish, in which tradition says a fish was 

 caught with a golden ring in its gill. It seems 

 that I commenced at the wrong end of the 

 "river"; further down beyond Peterchurch 

 and away off to Abbeydore it appears to justify 

 its title of being a "famous trout stream," but 

 here at Dorstone it is not three yards wide. I 

 had asked a charming young lady whom I met 

 near the church where the river was. She took 

 me across the road. "There," said she, "is 



