In this passage Fred Hando recalls his travels in western Gwent, where he took in Twyn Barllwm, Risca and other areas.

Twyn Barllwm is the southern climax of a ridge - Mynydd Maen - which stretches from Pontypool to Risca.

The great tumulus at the summit, 1,374 feet high, may present problems to the archaeologist, but as boys we were taught that it contains the bones of re p historic British chieftain.

The modern student laughs at our gullibility and teaches his children that the Normans built e great mound in order to give them control over the Western Valley! the and daughters of Gwent, can you imagine our ancestors at Risca being cowed by a battalion of cloud-cuckoos a mile away? And such a mile.

Twyn Barllwm

Normans forsooth. Look at the view. You gaze to the south over Uskmouth, the Severn and Somerset. Return, pick out the sapphire jewel which is Pant-yr-Eos. Can you make out the Holms and the Monkstone, and Penarth Head? See how many of the heights of Glamorgan and Gwent, swimming in a golden sea of light, are known to you. Rest your eyes now among the silver mists of the Cam Valley.

Then explore the great hills of Brecknockshire and Herefordshire and Gloucestershire, to come to rest again on our own Wentwood and the Vale of Usk. And can you arrange for your shadow to fall on Christchurch tower?

When you have taken your fill of views, slip down the Lump and walk along the green ridgeway northwards. Stark and forbidding on a March morning: green and inviting in June; an upward paradise of )lazing glory, its bracken flesh-pink beneath an October sun; or white in its winter cloak, Twyn 3arllwm is always impressive.

Its lure at sunset, however is compelling. he ridge of Twyn BarliwnilMYnYdd Maen may be viewed from Ridgeway at Allt-yr-yn on the north-'est side of Newport.

To reach the summit of Twyn Barllwm follow a narrow lane from High Cross a point directly below the mound which can then be reached by a 10-15 minute walk. Alternatively may be ascended from a car park on the Cwmcarn Scenic Drive.

I find charm in imagining the village of Risca in 1852. Built around Risca had become a parish in 1839 and there is evidence that as early as 1291 among the chapel' attached to the great mother church of Bassaleg was Risca.

You will find much of the story "Risca church with its extraordinary vicissitudes in the writings of Canon E.T. Davies, who'! `brief history' in the centenary booklet of 1953 integrates the building, the history, the clergy and the people into a community where tremendous changes - e.g. there were but 2,744 inhabitants! century ago - and incredible industrial development have still at their centre the church of ' St, Mary.

its lovely old chin.,

St. Mary's, Risca, before its demolition (from a print of 1852) Appropriately in this county, the church had as. its neighbours two inns - 'The Bell 'an' Thy the 'Yew Tree', parish clerk, to, Yew Tree'. I understand that John Walker, collected his clientele whom with himself he locked in the church during that November night in 1839 when the Chartists were marching towards Newport. My drawing is a reproduction in line of a charming wash-drawing made in 1852 just before the old church was demolished.

During the demolition it was observed that among the fine ashlar of the walls were Roman bricks and lumps of concrete. Four years before the demolition Mr. D. Rhys Stephen of Newport had written, Tew know that while the name Isca has perished in connexion with Caerleon it is still used every day as the name of the little parish and village between Maesaleg and Mynyddislwyn and its very heart is situated at the foot of Twmbarllwm. Isca with the Welsh definite article Yr constitutes the present name of the parish.'

When the demolition took place and the village lost its picturesque saddle-back tower careful note was made by Wakeman of the contents of the gable on either side of the tower: ' On either side were stones containing bones, in one instance with twenty or thirty beads of jet or Cannel coal. These receptables were 4ft. by 2ft. and 4ft. above the floor - too small to receive a body at full length.'

This is an extract from Hando’s Gwent, Volume One, edited by Chris Barber