Handbook to the Severn Valley Railway | Page 5

J. Randall
Leland says, "because of its present site men first began to
resort there;" adding, "the towne itself of Bewdley is sett on the side of
a hille, so comely that a man cannot wishe to see a towne better. It
riseth from Severne banke by east, upon the hille by west, so that a man
standing on the hille trans-pontem by east may discern almoste every
house in the towne; and att the rising of the sun from east, the whole
towne glittereth, being all of new building, as it were of gould."
Bewdley has been said to resemble the letter Y in form--the foot in the
direction of the river being more modern, and the extremities stretching
out against the hills the more ancient, portions. It was privileged as a
place of sanctuary when Wyre Forest was infested by men who lived
merry lives, and who did not refuse to shed their brothers' blood. It had
the privilege of taxing traders upon the Severn, as appears from a
petition presented by "the men of Bristowe and Gloucester" in the reign
of Henry IV., praying for exemption. It obtained its charter of
incorporation from Edward IV., and one granting the elective franchise
from James I.
[Bewdley: 13.jpg]
Wribbenhall, on the same side the river as the station, is a hamlet
belonging to Kidderminster, from which town it is distant about three
miles. Bewdley and Wribbenhall are surrounded by pleasant spots, not
a few of which are occupied by mansions, handsome villas, and
gentlemen's seats, seen from the line.
Winterdyne is one of these; from dark rocks above the Severn it
overlooks the valley, and is surrounded by walks and grounds
commanding magnificent prospects, the one from the Fort being
perhaps the most romantic. Lovers of quiet rambles, anglers, or
botanists, would do well to take up their quarters at Bewdley, as a

centre from which to explore the neighbourhood. There are few more
charming spots than Ribbesford, a mile lower down the river; it is a
sylvan bit of landscape, with grassy flats and weathered cliffs, the latter,
rising abruptly from the stream, being delicately tinted into harmony
with the boles, and foliage of the trees above them. Opposite is Burlish
Deep, noted for its pike.
[Pike: 14.jpg]
As at Worcester, the Severn here is a quiet, slow-flowing river. From
Gloucester to Bewdley the old gravelly fords and sandy shallows have
disappeared, and the "gentle art" has had to adapt itself to these changes;
fish once familiar to anglers are now strangers, rarely, if ever seen on
this side Gloucester; but the regulations enforced by the Severn
Fisheries Commission, and the vigilance of local associations, will, it is
hoped, soon be the means of repeopling the Severn with those members
of the finny tribe once common to its waters. Steam-tugs and trows,
propelled by screw or paddle, now navigate the river, each with a dozen
old-fashioned barges at its stern; but this portion of the Severn being
comparatively free, it is a favourite breeding place with pike, who for
reproductive purposes seek the stillest portions of the stream. Dowles
Ford, at the mouth of the brook of that name, which enters the river a
little above Bewdley, also Laxlane Ford, and Folly's Ford, are each
famous for their trout.
Leaving Bewdley, we pass the line of railway to Tenbury, but confine
ourselves to the Valley of the Severn, along which the river and the rail
are now close companions nearly all the way to Shrewsbury. The
elevation of the embankment above the river affords glimpses of
Bewdley Forest, or, as Drayton calls it, the Stately Wyre.
"These scenes are desert now and bare, Where nourished once a forest
fair; When these waste glens with copse were lined, And peopled with
the hart and hind."
But portions of the district still are wooded, affording famous fields for
botanists. Seckley Wood comes down to meet the bold projecting rocks
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
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