YALE UNIVERSITY LIBRARY Bought with the Fund given to THE LIBRARY ASSOCIATES by ELIZABETH WHEELER MANWARING Ph. D. 1924 WALK THROUGH WALES, AUGUST 1797. , 6s. WALK THROUGH WALES, IN AUGUST 1797, BY THE Revti. Richard Warner, OF BATH. 2a yaj Efi Kitta. itxira. " Creation's tenant ! all the world is thine." i^^ *J-. BATH, PJtINTED BY R. CRUTTWELL, AND sate BY C. DJLLY, POULTRY, LONDON. 1798. ADVERTISEMEX T. J* THE following letters tvere written to a friend during a Walk through Wales iii August last. Since that time, they have been added to and corrected; and are notv pre sented to the public, under the impression, that they may be found to afford some feia hints and observations not altogether useless to those xvhose curiosity shall lead them to visit the very striking scenery of North-Wales. The route of each day is engraven, and prefixed to the letter that contains a detail of its events; in which little sketches the 7nore considerable de viations fj^om the public road, made in order to visit particular objects, are marked ivith dotted lines. These are intended for the di rection of the Pedestritni, whose independent Tnode of travelling enables him to catch beau ties in Ms walk through an Alpine country, which the incumbrance of a carriage, and even the indulgence of a horse, prevents an other traveller from enjoying. sriH, JANUARY 1798. ERRATA. Page i8 line 12, for area read xrea. 109 5, dele over. 113 18, iov ejaculations Tti.^ exhortations. 180 19, for nch read ucli. ITINERARY. Monday, Aug, \Ath, 1797- Tuesday, 15tb. Wednesday, iQth. Thursday, lytb. Friday, ISth. Saturday, IQtb. Sunday, 20th, Monday, 21st. Tuesday, 22d. Wednesday, 23d, MilM. From Bath to the New-Passage 24 Across the Severn 3 Caerwent 3 Usk 9 — 3Q Abergavenny 11 Crickhowel • »••• 6 Brecon »• 13 — 30 Bualt 15 Rhaiddar 17 — 32 Pentre 15 Havod 2 Devil' s-Bridge including Ha- ¦ vod grounds ¦ 6 — 23 Machynllytli over the moun tains , 25 — 25 Talyllyn ¦ 8 Dolgelly over Cader-Idris 16 — 24 Dol-y-Myllyn fall 6 Cayne and Mouddach fall 4 Tan-y-Bwlch ¦•- 10 Bethgelert 8— 28 Round and over Snowdon to Dolbadern Castle •••• 17 Caernarvon 8— 25 Bangor 9 Conway 15 Round Caernarvon 14~25|- Llanrwst 12 CapelVoelas 10 Cernioge 2 Jlound Conway \\—25\ 177 Thursday, Aug, 24th. Friday, 25th. Saturday, 26tb. Sunday, 27th. Monday, 28tb, Tuesday, 2Qtb, Wednesday, 30th. Thursday, 31st. [ viii ] MllM, Brought over ^277 Corwen ¦ 13 Llangollen • 10--- 23 Valle-Crucis, Dinas-Bran, and back 6 Oswestry ••••• 12 Llanymynach ••••' ••• 6 — 24 Welsh-Pool by Canal 12 Montgomery by Powis Castle 8— 20 Clun • 12 Pentre-Audrey • 4 Bucknell 2 Brampton-Brian 2 Wigmore 4 — 24 RoundWigmore, Castle, &c. 1 Mortimer's Cross 3 Hereford ••. I9— 23 Wilton by the banks of the Wye ' 20—20 Goodrich Castle 3 New Weir 2 ¦ Doward 2 Monmouth 3 Redbrook •••••• 2 Llandogo • 4 Tintern ferry ¦•,• 4 — 20 Chepstow by the Wine Cliff 6 New Passage 5 Across the Severn 3 Bath • - 24— 38 469 h Usk N fl >\ Llanllowel \ _J\-^, Penowinaur Lanvair ^//\ Newport Road^=j\ Caerwent^ ' /& To Chepstow CaldecotCasUe 1 ^^^^ ^^^^ — * ^S New Passage LETTER I. To J**** C*****, ESQ. DEAR SIR, Vsk, Aug. li^tb, 1797. "VrOU will not be astonished at receiving a -*• letter from the northern side of the Severn, apprised as you were of my intention to peram bulate Wales in the course of this month. An exfiedition of this nature, you know, has oftieij'been the subjeft of our conversation, long before I became an inhabitant of a place so C 2 ] immediately in the neighbourhood of the Prin cipality; and, even when strolling through the glades of New Forest, we have more than once amused ourselves with anticipating the plea sure we should receive, when leisure and op portunity would allow us to visit the country of the ancient Britons; to wander along the sweet banks of the Dovy; to chmb the steeps 6f Snowdon andCader Idris; to listen to the thundering catarafts of Mouddach and Dol-y- Myllyn; to admire the variegated landscapes of Festiniogg, Clwyd, and Langollen; and to breathe the inspiring air where liberty made her last stand in these kingdoms, against the strides of Roman power, under the gallant Silurian and Ordovician chieftains. The particular circumstances which pre vented you from being my companion, induced me to drop the idea of this pilgrimage last year; and as they still continued to operate, I should probably have suffered this autumn also to elapse without performing it, had not C expressed a wish to accompany me. I before ¦ mentioned to you his offer, and \he readiness with which I accepted such an agreeable asso ciate. Solitary pleasures are, at the best, but imperfeft; and with respeft to travelling in [ 3 ] particular, the gratification arising from it de pends so much upon having a companion, with whom one can interchange sentiment, and communicate observation, as leads me entirely to coincide with Cicero in thinking, that even- a journey to the stars without society would be but a dull kind of expedition^* In preparing for a pedestrian tour, few ar rangements are requisite: a sfiigle change of raiment, and some other little articles for the comfort of the person, form all the necessary baggage of a foot-traveller. To convey thesej however, light as they may be, in the most easy and convenient manner, is an obje£t of importance, and requires some previous thought and consideration. C , conceiving it might be best effe£tedby the assistance of side-pockets, has had two receptacles of this kind, of con siderable dimensions, added to his coat. My plan is a different one: a negle£ted Spencer, which, though somewhat threadbare and rusty, may still make a respeftable figure in North- Wales, has, by the taylor's skill, been fitted up * Verum ergo id est ; si quis in c£ Amic. [ 4 ] with a sportsman's pocket, that sweeps front. one side to the other, and allows room sufficient for all the articles necessary to be carried.* Accoutred in this manner, and provided with maps and a compass, which we understand arc indispensably requisite amongst the mountains "of Merioneth and Caernarvonshire, we left Bath this morning as the clock was striking five. There is something wonderfully inspiriting in the commencement of a journey to a place which we have never before visited. The mind, delighting in novelty, eagerly anticipates the * Experience has since convinced us, that hoth these modes of carrying necessaries are exceptionable, and by no means so commo dious as a method we observed to have been adopted by a pedes trian partyj which we encountered in Cardiganshire. Each of the gentlemen (for there were three of them) carried a handsome leathern bag, covered with neat net-worl?, which, being suspended from the right shouldgr by a strap, hupg under the left arm, in the manner of a shooting-bag. This was occasionally shifted from one shoulder to the other, and at the same time that it proved » most convenient conveyance for linen, &e. was no inelegant addi tion to the person ; at least, it gave the wearer much less the ap pearance of a pedlar than attached to us, from the enormous side- pockets qf my companion, and my own swoln Spencer. It is proper to note also, that, in addition to our stock of necessaries, • we each found it convenient to provide ourselves with a small drinking-horn; for although we had no difSiculty in procuring milk, ai}d otfier sorts of beverage, yet the vessels from which we (quaffed thefe potations were not slw?ys so clean as those we ha4 been accustomed to use. C ^ ] gratification, which scenes that are new to it are found to afford; and the imagination, al ways alive and aftive, when its creative powers are not restrained by previous knowledge, is busied in painting fancied beauties, and form ing ideal pleasures, which are never discovered in the real pifture, nor experienced in adlual enjoyment. We were in high spirits; and the beauty of the opening day added to our hilarity. Every circumstance that could cheer or enliven, was present to us: " The attemper'd sun arose •' Sweet-beam'd, and shedding oft through lucid clouds " A pleasing calm — " A gentle western breeze, that seemed to bring health and pleasure on its wings, played around us; the hills echoed the thousand " melodies of morn;" the woodss rang with harmony; and we confessed that the animated description of the poet was not the language of fiftioii : — " But who the melodies of mom can tell.? " The Wild brook babbling down the mountain side; " The lowing herd ; the sheepfold's simple bell ; " The pipe of early shepherd dim descried " In the lone valley ; echoing far and wide " The clamorous horn along the cliffs above? '•' The IioIIow murmur of the ocean-tide ; " The hum pf bees, and linnets' lay of love, " And the full choir that wakes the universal grove. " The cottage-curs at early pilgrim bark ; " Crown'd with her pail the tripping milk-mdd sings j " The whistling plowman stalks afield ; and hark ! *' Down the rough slope the ponderous waggon rings; " Through rustling corn the hare astonish'd springs ; " Slow tolls the village clock the drowsy hour; " The partridge bursts away on whirring wings; f Deep mourns the turtle in sequester'd bower, " And shrill lark carols clear from her aerial tour." Beattie's Minstrel. • As we were desirous to avoid Bristol, for oup pbjeft is neither " tower'd cities," nor " the busy hum of men," we passed it on the left, and continued pur walk to Westbury, a village about fifteen miles from Bath. Here the sign of the Goat caught our attention, and consider^ ing it as a propitjous prnen, and emblematic of the expedition in which we are engaged, we determined to breakfast under its venerable figure; though the house, from which it hung as a signal of invitation to the passing traveller, did not appear to be such as would afford us very sumptuous fare. Nor, indeed, did its ex ternals deceive us; the milk was thin, the bread Stale, and the water half cold; but such is the magical operation of kind attention and a wil lingness to oblige, that notwithstanding these little defefts in our entertainment, we left the" Goat in as perfeft harmony of temper with its civil mistress and her attentive handmaid, as if they had spread before us the substantial cream and relishing' sally-Ims of Sydney-Gardens. No circumstance worth observation occurred till we were within a mile of the New Passage, when, hearing the rattling of a carriage, we turned round, and perceived we should soon be overtaken by a cart which contained two fashi onable young females. I am sorry to confess, my friend, that philosophers as we are, we felt confounded at the idea of being discovered by so smart a party, oh foot, in the turnpike-road, and equipped as I have described ourselves to be; nor was our confusion lessened, when we perceived that one of the ladies was a distant acquaintance of each of us. I muft also ac knowledge, that this emotion of false shame was the more unpardonable, as C and I had before worked ourselves, by divers arguments and much reasoning, into a fancied heroism in this'respeft; having been aware that such trials of vanity might befal us, and having coolly dis- C 8 3 cussed the absurdity of allowing them to gall our feelings, or wound our pride. The mo ment, however, that the enquiring eye of Miss surveyed us, — ibi omnis effusus labor — our philosophy vanished into air; our laboured reasonings fell to the ground; our fancied he roism flew off in a tangent, and we found that speculation and praftice were not quite so necessarily connefted together as cause and effea. Before we reached the Passage, however, we had again recovered our senses, and acquired a sufficient degree of confidence to accost the ladies, whom we saw on the beach. It now appeared, (and we were not a little amused at the discovery) that ihey had been as much dis tressed at being seen riding in a cart, as ive were, walking in the public road, with our wallets at our backs^ Mutual explanations took place- They assured us, they had ventured to ascend the ighoble machine, because it was the only vehicle which could be procured in the village where they lodged ; and we declared we had chosen to walk through Wales, because we wext pas sionately fond of the exercise, and avoided, by adopting that plan, the care, trouble, and in convenience of horses and carriages. C 9 3 We now took leave of the ladies, and pro-' ceeded to the packet, into which we did ilot get admission without considerable difficulty, the boatmen having taken advantage of our being engaged in conversation, and aftually put off from the shore without us, although we had previously spoken for a passage. This is a common manoeuvre with the very barbarous description of beings who ply the vessels en gaged in crossing the Severn; a trick that obliges the disappointed traveller to engage a boat for himself, at the expence of six shillings, instead of nine-pence. The boats being all one joint concern, the oftener this can be effefted the more the interest of the proprietors isferved, and, doubtless, the more advantageous it is to the men. Indeed, long as I have lived tiear maritime towns, and much as I have seen of the nautical charafter, I never witnessed half the barbarism that shocks one at this place- The sailor, though always a rough and unpo lished, is seldom a savage or. brutal charafter; at the New Passage, however, a different species appears, and were we to judge of the genus from this particular classj, the tar would sink much in our estimation. The cause of this ex ception to a general rule, appears to arise from [ 10 ] the circumstance Of the -Passage being in the hands of a partnership. This being the case, there are, of course, no separate interests; no competitions ; no struggle to deserve preference by particular attention, or superior courtesy ; no endeavour to engage the future custom of the passenger by consulting his present ease, convenience, or pleasure; no stimulus to ensure civility; no check to prevent insolence; and the consequence is what we may naturally ex- pe£i: it to be, the mariners engaged in the business are as rude, turbulent, and violent, as the aestuary they navigate; each individual resembling the Stygian ferryman, described by Virgil: — ' " Portitor has horrendus aquas et flumina servat " Terribili squalore Charon; cui plurima mento " Cahitiesinculta japet; stant lumina flamma." ViRG. vi. 298. Whilst crossing the Severn we could not but recolle6l that we were floating on a river of no ignoble name ; a stream famed in British story, and not unnoticed by the classic historians. Tacitus,* you know, speaks of the Sabrina, and observes, that the propraetor P. Ostorius fortified it with a chain of forts, in order to awe * Ann. xii. 3?. C 11 3 the surrounding parts. In the early writers of our own country this stream makes a conspicu ous figure; and the fanciful fable ofthe origin of its name, which these romancers handed down to posterity, has afforded a subjeft to our great poet, for some fine lines in his delicious Comus: — ¦ " Thdi-e is a gentle Nymph not far from hence, " That with moist curb sways the smooth Severn stream, f Sabrina is her name, a virgin pure; '•' Whilome she was the daughter of Locrine, " That had his sceptre from his father Brute. " She, guiltless damsel, flying the mad pursuit " Of her enraged step-dame Gu^ndolen, " Commended her fair innocence to the flood, " That stay'd her flight with his cross-flowing course. " The water-nymphs, that in the bottom play'd, " Held up their pearled wrists, and took her in, " Bearing her strait to aged Nereus' -hall, " Who, piteous of her woes, rear'd her lank head, " And gave lier to his daughters to imbathe f In neftai-'d lavers strew'd with asphodil, " And through the porch and inlet of each sense " Dropt in ambrosial oils, till she reviv'd, " And underwent a quick immortal change, " Made goddess of the river: still she retaiils "; Her maiden gentleness, and oft at eve " Visits the herds along the twilight meads, . •' Helping all urchin blasts, and ill-luck signs " That the shrewd medling elfe delights to make, " Which she with precious vial'd liquor heals." [ 12 ] Having crossed the Severn, we now felt our selves fairly entered upon our expedition. We had passed the great boundary that divides Wales from England, and trod on land, which till lately, made part of the Principality. Quit» ting the road fo Caerwent, we turned to the left, in order to visit the ruins of Caldecot castle, which lay at the distance of a mile in that direfition. On our walk thither we could not but remark a profusion of the absinthium vul- gare, or common wormwood, which flourishes here in great perfection. The uses to which this plant is applied> and the medicinal prepa rations drawn from it, its conserve, extraft^ salt, and essentia] oil, are well known; we were therefore much surprised to understand, on en quiry, that although such quantities are spon taneously produced in the neighbourhood, its virtues were not understood here, and that the plant was suffered to flourish and decay, with out regard or attention ; a negligence which reminded us ofthe poet's observation: — " And yet the wholesome herbneglefted.^es. •' Though with the pure exhilarating soul " Of nutriment and health, and vital powers, " Beyond the reach of art, 'tis copious bless'd." Thomson's Spring. C 13 ] The ruin of Caldecot castle disappointed us.. In its appearance there is nothing striking or picturesque; nor does its situation convey the idea of strength or importance. It stands in a fiat, about a mile from the shore, surrounded with moats indeed, but such as would prove very insignificant obstacles to an approaching enemy. Perhaps, however, it might not have been erefted so much for hostile purposes as for those of state ; since it appears to have been attached to a particular office^ that of Constable of Eng land, and was held by the service ofthe Con- stableship.* The antiquity of the building is uncertain; probably as high as the early Anglo- Norman princes. Little of its history has reached our times, except the circumstance of its having been connected with the birth of Henry Vll.f Leaving Caldecot, we dire£ted our course towards Caerwent,!}; passing through a rich, di versified country, splendidly illuminated by the • Camden, Brit. p. 714. ed. ii%7,. ¦\ The castel of Calecoyd longging to the Kinge, is in Base Ven- teland toward the Severn shore, not far from iMatthern. At this castel, as sum say, was King Henry VII. begotten. — ^Leland, Itin. vol. V.J. % The FetitaSilurum of Antoninus. C 14 ] beams of a glorious autumnal sun. As we ap proached this place, which is now only a mi- •serable village, busy fancy began her magical operations, and carried us back to those times, when Caerwent flourished in all the pride of classical architecture; when, under the auspi ces of Agricola, its temples and theatre, porti coes and baths, almost rivalled the splendor of its maternal city; and it exhibited all the ele gancies of Roman refinement. This agreeable reverie might have, lasted- a considerable time, had not a walk of twenty-seven miles so ex hausted us, that we were soon called from " speculation high" to attend to the cravings of appetite, the loud demands of nature. For tunately, at this moment, the sign of the Bull invited us into a snug little public-house, where we gladly seated ourselves, and quickly forgot the lords of the world, and the accomplished general of Titus, in a tankard of excellent ale, and a dish of bacon and eggs. After fatisfying our appetite, we enquired for a ciceroni to conduCl us round the ruins of Caer went, and to point out a famous Roman tesse- lated pavement, which was discovered here in July 1777. Our landlord, who appeared to be the antiquary of the place, was unfortunately C 1^ ] prevented, by an indispensable engagement with a pipe and a pot of beer, from being our companion; he therefore committed us to the conduct of a fine lad, about eighteen, the ostler of the house, who, he, assured us, and I dare say with great truth, would shew the tiquities just as well as himself. We had not gone far, before we observed that our guide walked very lamely, and in great apparent pain. Perceiving that it arose from his knee, which was considerably swelled, and wrapped in bandages, I inquired the nature of the injury he had received. " An please your honour," returned the boy, with a very signi ficant look, in which fear and anger were strangely blended, " Ise got a taking." ' A taking, my lad, what dost thou mean?' " A witch hard by, and be dang'd to her, has taken to me." We were, you may imagine, not a little surprised to discover that old popular su perstition, a belief in these imaginary gifted females, existing at a place not thirty miles in a direCt line from Bath. Our curiosity was awakened, and we requested the lad to give us the particulars of his misfo'rtune. He told us, that about three weeks back, as he was work- . ing in a hedge, he suddenly found his knee ex- [ 19 : tremely painful; that on examining the part he could perceive no appearance of a wound, but notwithstanding it soon swelled very much, and became considerably inflamed. On his re turn home, he shewed it to one of the neigh bours, who very sagaciously asserted, that the injury must have been effeCted by supernatural means, and pointed out an old woman, the re puted witch ofthe village, as the invisible agent in the business. He added, he had shewn it also to his master (mine host of the Bull) who had done every thing in his power to remove thia ill, by first lancing the part and afterwards burning the flesh to the bone; but that, not withstanding these judicious efforts of chirur- gical skill, the knee grew worse than fever; a circumstance whichconfirmed the patient's opi nion of his being under the influence of witch ery. ' Well, my lad,' said I, ' and didst thou not go to the old lady?' " Ees, your honour, Ise went to her, but she vrighted I nationly. She lookt at 'un, zaid a vew words over un, and bade God bless me; telling me I should go home, bide quiet, pultice the knee, and be a good lad, and then I need not be afraid of her, or any other old woman. But I'll be even wi* her, I war'nt, for all that." The conclusion of C 17 ] the boy's speech rather alarmed us for the safety of the poor creature, whose age and infirmities had rendered her the objeCt of the villagers' suspicions ; but who, by the sufferer's own ac count, possessed^ more good sense and benevo lence than all of them together. We therefore endeavoured to convince him, that his malady arose from natural causes; from a thorn pro bably In the first instance, aggravated by his master's very injudicious treatment of the afflicted part. We applauded and repeated the directions of the old lady, and prevailed, after- Wards, upon the host, whom we discovered to be the village doClor, to adopt the more com-* fortable and simple system of rest and poultices, in the room of cauterizing and excision. Few notices of the ancient grandeur or extent of this Roman station are now visible. Parts of the walls Indeed remain, which ascertain the fortress to have been either square or oblong. These are substantial and well built; and the element, as usual in ruins of this nature, firm, durable, and tenacious. That Caerwent, how ever, was of considerable importance during the Roman dominion in this country, we may conclude from the extensive ruins to be seen on the spot In Leland's time, who visited it In e n IS : the beginning of the sixteenth century, and thus defcribes its appearance at that time: — " Cairguent In Base Venteland Is iiil miles " from Chepstow in the way to Caerllon. It " was sumtyme a fair and a large cyte. The *' places where the Ilil gates was yet appere, " and the most part of the wal yet standlth, " but al to minischyd and torne. In the towne " yet appere pavlmentes of the old streates, " and yn digging they finde fundations of great " brykes, tessellata pavlmenta, &; numlsmata " argentea simul Si area."* The most remarkable and curious proof of the presence of the Romans here, is a beautiful tessellated pavement, discovered in the year 1777, and even yet In tolerable preservation. It lies in a field belonging to a farm In the immediate neighbourhood of the village; and is twenty- four feet in length, and eighteen In breadth. The area consists of several compartments, con taining pleasing representations of those circu lar Involutions frequently seen In Saxon archi tecture, and known by the name of Runic circles. This is surrounded by a running bor der of an elegant pattern, in the manner of a ' ¦ II f i-i I I I II ¦¦¦¦^M I ¦ IIIBlll I H ,><_„.. * Itin. vol. V. f»5- [ 19 ] Turkey carpet. The whole is formed of leS' sera or dies, nearly cubical, about three parts of a inch deep; and little more than half an - inch in breadth; consisting of four colours, red; yellow, blue, and white, which are so judiciously disposed, as to give great life and spirit to the work. You are not to be informed, my friend, that these tessellated pavements were much in re quest with the ancients, both in their public and private edifices. If the one we are now considering, did not form the floor of a small temple or sacellum, it would probably be the elegant ornament of the dwelling of some mili tary commander, residing at this Rorhan station. The gentleman on whose property it was dis covered, Mr. Lewis, of Chepstow, with due regard to the curiosity of this specimen of anci ent art, surrounded it with a stone wall, by which means it has been In a great measure de fended from Injury; but still, as this inclosure , is not, roofed in, and as persons who visit the pavement are not prohibited from carrying away samples of the tessera, it is to be feared, that the violence of the elements, and the de predations of curiosity united, may in time rob the public of this curious remain. [ 20 3 Having spent a considerable time on the scite' of the old Roman station, sighed over its perish ing remains, and moralized on the transitory nature of all human grandeur, we turned into the road to Usk, and pursued our walk. A short half hour brought us to the pleasing little village of Lanvair; formerly the proud residence of some baronial chieftain, the only attestation of whose ancient splendour is the ruined shell of a castle, almost hidden from the eye by a luxuriant mantle of ivy. This hostile edifice rises Immediately over the village-church, a small and lowly building., which, together with its frowning neighbour, form appropriate emblems of pride and humility, with their re spective consequences. The ostentatious tur rets of the castle are sunken Into the dust, and' " their memorial is perished with them ;" whilst the lowly house of .prayer, " which maketh no proud boastings," still continues to secure ve neration, and attract regard'. The village ce metery Is bounded by the turnpike-road, and as I ever make a point of visiting any country church-yard near which I happen to pass, C and myself entered the consecrated ground. The well-known elegy of a favourite poet may, perhaps, have had some secret and imperceptir C 21 3 ble influence In producing this propensity; and the association of Ideas may sufficiently account for a partiality towards real scenes, the descrip tion of which has afforded high gratification. To this cause of predileCtion, however, may be added the reflection, which naturally arises in the mind in these repositories of the departed poor, that here is the conclusion of their sor rows ; the happy termination of those distresses^ inconveniencies, and wants, which honest ex perience will allow. In spite of all the fanciful reasonings of theory, the children of labour and poverty too sensibly feel. We had soon collected the past biography of the village, from the " frail memorials" ereCted to commemorate the names, age, &c. of the deceased parishioners, and were leaving the ch^urch-yard, when our attention was caught by thfe following admonitory stanza, engraven on a stone placed as a style Into It. I copied it, 'i)etbatim et literatim, and present it to you as a good specimen of rustic poetry and ortho- ¦graphy:— " Who Ever hear on Sonday " Will Pradlis playing At Ball "it May be beFore Monday • .; .\ iv<'_The Devil wHl Have you all." [ 22 ] As it is tedious and uninteresting to walk along a turnpike-road for any considerable time, we deviated from it on leaving Lanvair, and skirted the adjoining hills and fields. From hence we were gratified with a magnificent prospeCl to the north and west, over a beauti ful and varied country swelling Into lofty ele vations, and sinking into fruitful vallies, watered by a winding river, ornamented with elegant villas, and nobly bounded by the black moun tains. This scene continued to Usk, which we entered about seven o'clock; and reposed our selves at the Three-Salmons Inn, after a walk; pf six and thirty miles. ' We were soon sufficiently refreshed by a good dish of tea, to strole round the town, and visit Its ruined castle, and are just returned, much pleased, from our ambulation. The situation of Usk is very pleasing, it being built on the banks of a broad and clear river of that name. A large stone bridge Is thrown over this stream to the west of the village, from whence the view, both upwards and down wards. Is extremely striking. The history of Usk, you know, is in some measure conneCted with classical antiquity. It having beein a Ro man station, mentioned in the Itinerary of An- [ 23 3 toninus under the name of Burrium. Few re cent particulars respecting it are handed dowr. to us, except that there was formerly a priory near It, (the remains of which may yet be seen'] consisting of five BenediCtine Nuns, founded by the St. Clare family. In the early part of the tliirteenth century, and endowed with lands to the annual value of seventy pounds. The ruin also of a noble castle, standing upon a hill to the north-west of the town, makes a venera ble appearance. Its origin and history, how ever, are burled in oblivion, and it remains a melancholy monument ofthe nullity of human labours; of the vanity of man's attempting to make himself a lasting name by the works of his hands. your's, &c. R. W. N |B| Brecon \ ^fe Skethrog '*" « \hCr!ckhowell ¦"(^ I " ^^=»^ Langtanach ^^^sa^^J\^uL Lanwen arth ^-^rVr^Abetgavenny ^/^^i:::^-^ Lansanfreed Lanvihangle ^fe^ n-s Trusty forge^^ ^ -5^ Clythi. Pont-y-Pool road ^ J ^ ki Betuvs- // Newydd Jus Castle iSusk LETTER n. / TO THE SAME. DEAR siK, Brecon, Aug, i^th, •THHE beauty of the niornlng tempted us to ± rise at five, that we might reach Aberga venny to breakfast. This is a system, indeed, which we mean to pursue through our expedi tion, provided the weather encourage us to continue it; for we perfeCtly agree with our ad mirable descriptive poet, in considering the C 26 3 early hours of day as peculiarly calculated for the contemplation of nature, and the enjoyment of rural scenery: — •' Falsely luxurious, will not man awake, " And, springing from the bed of sloth, enjoy " The cool, the fragrant, and the silent hour, " To meditation due, and sacred song.' " For is there ought in, sleep can charm the wise ? — i " — Who would in such a gloomy state remain " Longer than Nature craves, when every Muse, " And every blooming pleasure, wait without " To bless the wildly-devious morning walk?" Having the Usk on our left hand, we pur sued its banks, as nearly as we could, without making any considerable deviation from the public way, and were gratified for our trouble by a most agreeable variety of scenery. We returned, however, tq the road, about five miles from Abergavenny, in order to survey a gate-way now ereCting as an entrance to the park of Clytha castle. It Is an elegant piece of architecture. In the style of ^orld Gothic. We could not but agree, notwithstanding, that a building of greater simplicity would have been more judicious and appropriate to the other- circumstances of the place. The present splen did one leads us to expeCl a mansion propor- I 27 3 tionately superb ; and we are, therefore, not a little disappointed on entering the pa?-k,, and' discovering the house, to find a comfortable and substantial one indeed, but neither of di mensions nor architecture consistent with the highly-ornamented entrance through which we have just passed. The clock told nine as we entered Aberga venny; and a walk of eleven miles rendered the excellent breakfast which we met with at the Angel Inn particularly grateful. As it hap pened to be market-day, we had a good oppor tunity of observing the manners and appear ance of the South- Walllans, many of whom are always colleCted together at this weekly meet ing. We bent our course, therefore, to the forum, which we found thronged with people, and filled with the hum of numberless voices. In truth, it was a busy, animated. Interesting scene; and to us not a little strange, from the circumstance of a language being generally spoken there, which we had riot previously heard. Hitherto we had met with nothing but English; but as the markets of large Welsh towns are chiefly filled by the Inhabitants of villages and hamlets from a considerable dis tance round, which boast neither markets nor C 28 3 shops, the business of the day is transacted In the language of the country. The cleanliness. of the articles exposed to sale, and the neatness observable in the persons of the sellers, gave us the first favourable impression with respeCt to the Welsh charaCler; for we cannot help think ing that there is generally found to be a con-- neCtlon between personal decency and ethical excellence, and that the effeCt of cleanliness ex tends to the morals of a man; " E'en from the body's purity, the mind " Receives a secret, sympathetic aid." We were more especially pleased with the fe, male part of the company, A round, candid, open countenance, illuminated by a brilliant complexion, dark eyes, and teeth of dazzling whiteness; and a certain indescribable naivete, (which happily blends archness and simplicity, a great deal of intelfigence, with an equal share of modesty) give an air peculiarly agreeable and charaCteristlcal to the Welsh girls. Some deg]-ee of whimsicality arose from our questiour ihg these fair market-womein relative to the prices of the. various articles they sold, (of which we wished to acquire an accurate idea) and the difficulty that attended, our being intelligible ta t es 3 each other. The guttural sounds they uttered, (which even the voice and manner of a Welsh girl cannot render pleasing 'or harmonious) were totally thrown away upon our ignorance; whilst the roughnesses and sibilisms of our own Saxon dialeCt, only excited an arch laiigh from these virgin descendants of the ancient Britons. You will say, we displayed but a sorry taste in leaving this fair society, to visit some frag ments of antiquity; but as we had much to d© in a short time, it was necessary we should quit the busy spot for a very different scene, a scene of silence and desolation — the remains of Aber gavenny castle. " The thistle shakes there its " lonely head; the moss whistles to the wind. *' The fox looks out from tbe windows, the rank " grass of the wall waves round his head. De- *' solate is the dwelling of Moina, silence is in " the house of her fathers." ' ' This ruin, which was ©rigirrally a Norman castle,* stands to the .westward ofthe town, in «uch a situation as to command it compleatly. * Built, probably, by Hamelini Balon or Baladun, one of those who came over with the Conqueror, who also founded a priory here, towards the conclusion of the eleventh century. To this re ligious foundation the tithes ofthe castle- were given in kind, /em- - Jion fobannis, on condition that the Abbot of St. Vincent at Mans ', [ 30 3 but has nothing in it striking or picturesque J no wood waving in its courts, no thickly-mant-' ling ivy creeping round Its walls. Its history is marked with Infamy and treachery, and , Giraldus Cambrensis records It to have been, • " With many a foul and midnight murder fed ;" As having been stained with more blood than any other castle of Wales. First by William son of Earl Miles, (Earl of Hereford) and after wards by. William Breos; both having upon public assurance, and under pretence of friend ship, invited thither some ofthe Welsh nobility, and then basely murdered them.* Aberga venny Itself occurs In the Itinerary of Antoni nus, under the name of Gobannium, from which the present appellation Is evidently derived, with the addition of the British prefix Aber; or harbour, and the alteration of a few letters. The road from this place to Crickhowel ap peared very striking to us who are Inhabitants of South-England, and conversant only with •would send over thither a convent of Benedifline Monks. At the' general suppression it was dissolved ; the house consisting of a prior and four monks, audits revenues amounting to 129I.5S. 8d^' per annum. 1 Tanner's Notitia Monastica. * Camden, Momnouthshire. C 31 3 the comparatively tame scenery of those parts. On reaching the first elevation from Aberga venny, we turned round to contemplate the country we were passing through, which was now become mountainous, and gave us a foretaste of what we are to expeCl by and bye. Here we were struck with the ragged summit of Sklrld Vawr, or Holy Mountain, rising to the east of the town, and the dark form of the Bloranch which lifts its proud head on the opposite side. The stupendous fissure that appears to the North of the former, gave rise to Its name; tradition having impressed the belief upon the neigh bouring country, that the chasm was produced at the period of our Saviour's crucifixion, when Nature herself was convulsed, and -r" From her seat "Sighing through all her works, gave signs of woe." As we proceeded, our progress was frequently retarded by numerous droves of black cattle from Pembrokeshire and Carmarthenshire, tra velling towards the Passage, to be transported across the Severn, and driven to the markets of Bristol, and the other large towns of Somerset, Glocestershire, and Wilts. Here they are pur chased by the grazier, and sent into the rich C 32 1 pasturao-e of the southern vales to be fatted^ which cannot be effeCted in the country where they are bred. Large parties of reapers also, amounting in the whole to two or three hun dred, met us on their way Into Herefordshire and Glocestershire, for the harvest month ; re markable In the uniformity of their dress, which consisted of a jacket and breeches of thick striped flannel, the manufacture ofthe country, and dyed almost -invariably of a light blue colour. Our walk to Crickhowel was further dlver-s sified by a Druldical remain, which occurred iri a field to the right hand, at the fifteenth mile stone from Brecon. It is a single upright stone, thIrteen'or fourteen feet high, and about five over. Standing quite alone, with nothing around or near It to lead to a discovery of its original designation, we can only conjeCture that it was conneCted with the religious wor ship of the ancient Britons, of whose supersti tion many stupendous examples of a similaf nature are to be seen in almost every quartet ofthe kingdom. The castle of Crickhowel led us a little out of the road, and detained us some time In exa mining its remains, and tracing its original plan. [ 33 ] Wales, indeed, appe&rs to be an admirable field for the study of ancient military architecture; as almost every considerable town, and many inconsiderable vllfages, exhibit their respective castles in greater or less preservation, the scene pf the cumbrous magnificence and rude revelry of our forefathers, where the great lord for merly lived In princely state, " Girt with many a baron bold," and exercising almost all the rights of sove reignty, within the precinCts of his demesne. Few remains of Crickhowel castle are to be seen, many neighbouring cottages having sprung from the stones purloined from its walls. They are, however, pleasingly circumstanced with ivy, and form, upon the whole, an interesting ruin. The Keep appears to have been a very secure building, seated upon a lofty artificial elevation, and displaying the foundations of a thick substantial wall. We now reached the Beatifort Arms, the village public-house, where wfe refreshed our selves with the contents of the landlady's cup board, and a bottle of cwrrw, or Welsh ale. This was the first time of our tasting the famous beverkgeof Wales; but I cannot say that it [ S4 3 proved at all agreeable to our palates, though the Cambrians seek it with avidity, and quaff it with the most patient perseverance. Their ancestors, you know, displayed a similar pro pensity eighteen hundred years ago; and the old Celt frequently sunk under the powerful influence of the ancient cwrrw.* It was then,! as it is now, made from barley; but the grain is dried. in a peculiar way, which gives It rather a smoky taste, and renders It glutinous, heady, and soporlferous. As we passed on to Brecon, we observed about five miles from that town, in the hedge, on the left hand, a curious monument of the presence of the Romans in these parts. It is a sepulchral cippus, somewhat cylindrical, and probably about six or seven feet long, inscribed with Roman characters, rather rudelj^ cut. Camden, I recolleCt, speaks of this piece of antiquity as posterior to the Roman times, for what reason I know not, and describes the in scription as follows, JV" filius ViEtorini. Time, however, has committed such depreda- * Est et Occidentis populis sua ebiietas, fruge madida.— — Pliit. lib. xiv. ' f Ligures utuntur potu hordeaceo."— —Strabo, lib..iv. C 35 3 tions upon it, that the only letters to be distin guished now, are the first half dozen of the word FiBorini. The exercise of walking twenty-five miles under an August sun, had rendered us exceed ingly thirsty, and we looked anxiously round for a farm-house, where we might procure a draught of new milk. At length a neat little dwelling peeped out of a coppice to the right of the road, and. we hastened towards it. A huge and most ferociously-looking dog, how ever, which rose up on our approach, and breathed a deep and threatening growl, warned us to preserve an awful distance. We hal looed therefore at the gate of the court, in or der to bring out the inhabitants of the mansion. After some time the garden wicket opened, and we saw a gigantic Welsh girl come for ward, (a good companion to old Trusty at the door) hard as iron, and built like an Hercules, with a spade flung over her shoulder, which she had been using In the garden. We told our situation, and requested, with all the per suasions we could urge, the refreshment of which we stood so much in need. But alas! all our eloquence was thrown away; the strap ping Cambrian did not understand English, D 2 t 3S 3 and " dym Basna**A know nothing of Saxon," (a term of reproach which these ancient Britons apply to us, as the creatures'of yesterday) was all the answer we could gef to our representa tion. A countryman, however, coming by at the time, we engaged him (for he fortunately spoke English) to be the interpreter between us and the damsel; and through him we again urged our request. But it was all in vain; the? mistress was absent from home, and had left the mastiff and girl in charge with the house, who seemed equally true to their trust; no blandishments being of any avail in soothing the former, nor the offer of a shilling sufficient to bribe the latter, to dispose of ought that be longed to her mistress, without her knowledge* and consent. Though disappointed of our ex- peCted refreshment, we could not but feel much, pleased with the sturdy integrity of this domes tic; and through our friend the Interpreter, conveyed a trifle to her, together with a compli ment on her fidelity, and a recommendation \.o her to continue in it. Half a mile further, how ever, at a place called Skethrog, our application was more successful, and we were entertained by a decent looking matron, with milk fresh from the cow, and excellent bread and butter, [ 37 3 after refusing a tankard of cider, or a bottle of ale. As cashier, I had drawn the strings of my purse. In order to make a pecuniary return for this seasonable favour; but I was saved the trouble of offering any thing, by the positive assurance of our hostess, that she would receive no acknowledgment, " as the traveller was " always welcome to any refreshment that her " dwelling could afford." We had heard much of Welsh hospitality, but heard it with that de gree of Infidelity- which ignorance Is so apt to produce; it gave us therefore no little pleasure to find it exemplified towards ourselves, in an instance of such disinterested kindness as would Immediately have put us Into good- humour with our species, had we been ever so much inclined to quarrel with It before. We reached Brecon sufficiently early to visit the town and Its environs before the close of the evening. Like most other towns jn Wales, this place is Interesting rather from what it has been, than on account of what It now Is. Du ring the days of chivalry and papacy, it boasted a castle and a monastery, the imperfeCt ruins of which still evince the former extent and gran deur of these edifices. They were both built In the reign of Henry the First, by Bernard d§ _ C 38 3 Newmarch, a Norman lord, who, a short time after the ereCtion of the castle, founded near it a priory for six BenediCtine Monks, and richly endowed it with lands and tithes.* This was a common praCtice with the great barons in the feudal ages, who seem to have thought that the ereCtion of a religious house in the immediate neighbourhood of their castles, operated as an absolution for all the aCls of spoliation, rapine, and misrule, exhibited within the walls of them. The castle of Brecknock passed through the families of the Braoses and Bohuns, and afters- wards Into that of the Duke of Buckingham, a nobleman successively the friend, favourite, enemy, and vICtim of Richard the Third. It was to this fortress that Moreton bishop of Ely- was conveyed on his arrest by the usurper, and committed to the custody of Buckingham. The ingratitude of Richard, who, as soon as he was assured of his power, forgot the arm which had helped to vest him with it, raised the indigna- * To the west of the town are the remains also of an ancient house of Black Monks, which Henry VIII. converted into a college, by the name of the College of Chrift-church in Brecknock, and joined the college of Aberguilly to it. It now consists of the Bishop of St. David's, who presides as dean, a precentor, treasurer, chancel lor, and nineteen other prebendaries.— —Tanner's Not. Monast. C 39 3 tion of the Lord of Brecknock, and retiring to his castle, he there consulted with his prisoner on the means of wresting the sceptre from Richard, and returning it once more into the Lancastrian line. The plan was here digested, and eventually brought to a successful termina tion; though very opposite fates attended the original formers of it. Buckingham was the aCtlve engine, and shortly after the commence ment of his operations, being deteCted and ta ken prisoner, he finished his restless and time serving career on the scaffold. The bishop aCled the more judicious part, he escaped from the castle, kept quiet, and lived to become, in the ensuing reign, a privy counsellor, and to fill the metropolitan see of Canterbury. Part of the castle walls and some fragments of a tower remain^ the latter Is said to have been the apart ment In which the bishop was confined, and is still called Ely tower. Vestiges of the priory are also to be seen, and the church formerly belonging to it Is now used by the parishioners for public worship. It is a large building, but I should apprehend not older than the time of Henry the Fourth. Theparvaise, or ambulatory, where the monks were wont to walk and me ditate, lies to the east ofthe church, and is called [ 40 3 the Priory Walks. They have been long apr propriated to the use of the inhabitants, and are wonderfully pleasant and romantic; shaded by noble trees, and watered by the loud brawling river Hondhy, which rolls at the foot of them, though so much hidden by wood, as only to be caught In occasional glimpses. On returning through the church-yard, we observed, for the first time, a number of epitaphs in the language of the country; and On hearing them translated by the person who conduCted us round the town, were much struck with the simplicity of their sentiment and expression. Another custom also, that was equally new tq us, caught our attention; the ornamenting of the graves of the deceased with various plants and flowers, at certain seasons, by the surviving relatives.* This last tribute of regard, this posthumous recollection, is strikingly Impres-j sive; as It speaks direCtly to a principle deeply rooted in the mind of man. To live in the re? menibrance of those we love, " when we go * It is generally done, I understand, during the festival of Easter, the resurreAion of our Saviour; and though of Pagan origin, the custom may have been appropriated by Christians to that day, to adumbrate |the youth, vigour, and beauty, which the body will ea- joy, " when this corruptible shall put on incorruption, and this " mortal be clothed with- immortality ." [ 41 ] " hence, and are no more seen," is a natural wish; a wish implanted in our souls by that Being, who willed that we should be social creatures, and gave us all the kind affedlons of our nature: — " For who, to dumb forgetfulness a prey, " This pleasing anxious being e'er resign'd, f' I.eft the warm precinfts of the pleasing day, " Nor cast one longing, ling'ring look behind? f On some fond breast the parting soul relies, " Some pious drops the closing eye requires; f E'en from the grave the voice of Nature cries: " E'en in our ?shes live thejr wontetl fires," The practice, you know, is a very ancient one, and may be traced back as high as classi cal antiquity. Amongst the Greeks, (a lively and affectionate people) the decoration of the sepulchres of their deceased conneCHons, on particijlar days, was observed with the most rigid punctuality; and the plants and flowers used on the occasion were not unaptly termed EpwTEf,* or the tributes of love and affeCtion. The Rom.ans also, who received In a great mea^ sure their religion from Greece, adopted this * Phavorin. Etymolog. in verb. i: 42 3 custom amongst other shewy and impressive superstitions; and appointed a certain season ofthe year when it should be more particularly observed. It was during the month of February that the solemn rites of the feralia, or honours paid to the manes of the departed, were per formed, and the scattering of odoriferous plants and flowers upon their tombs formed one im portant feature of these striking ceremonies. Virgil, you may recolleCt, alludes to this affec- . tionate praCtice in some of the finest lines of his yEneid; the very beautiful apostrophe to the shade of Marcellus, which so much affeCled the unfortunate OCtavia, and produced such an handsome pecuniary reward to the poet: " Heu miserande puer! si qua fata aspera rumpas, *' Tu Marcellus eris. Manibus date lilia plenis : " Purpureos spargam flores, animamque nepotis " His saltern accuniulem donis, et fungar inani " Munere." Lib. vi, 882. Our return to the Inn (the Lion) was quick ened by a shower of rain; and we are just pre paring to discuss the events of our march, over Usk trout and Brecknockshire mutton. Your's, &c. R. W. -. , r I Lj R.haiddar-Gowy Z7 miles | l-K ^ Lyn-Gwynn^ J^. LUnJIy y ViJb^Dysert / /yh Capel LlanRunog Castle-MaJdox^SL,^^,^^ ^ \V \^] Brecon ^s^ LETTER III. TO THE SAME, BFAR sm, Rbafddar-Gofey, Aug. i6tb. T 71 7HAT a multitude of adventures may be grasped within the narrow circle of a day^ by those ramblers who have spirit to investigate j curiosity to enquire; and attention to observe j who (according to the remark of a fellow-tra^ veller) interest their hearts in evefy thing; and [ 44 ] having eyes to see what time and chance are perpetually holding out to them as they journey on their way, miss nothing they can fairly lay their hands on. In a country like this, where every thing we hear, and every thing we see, is entirely new to us, you may imagine this ob servation is fully exemplified In ourselves. ,Be not surprised, therefore, should my letters sa vour somewhat of the prolixity of Crispinus, and the garrulity of old Ashmole, the former of whpm, you know, was tedious to a proverb;* and the latter so minute as to favour the world with the number of his sternutations in the course of the day.f As the morning was rather unfavourable, we did not leave Brecon till nine o'clock, when the clouds breaking away, and the sun appearing, we set off for Rhaiddar-Gowy, a town at the distance of thirty-two miles. The view of Brecon from the north is more agreeable and interesting than from any other point. It here appears a spacious and respeCtable town, climb ing the declivity and brow of an eminence, with the Usk winding at Its feet, and the mountain Pennel^'aen, rough, precipitous, and dark, f Hor. Sat. lib. i, sat. i. ^fjo, f Ashmole's Life. [ 45 3 rising behind it to the south. Continuing our former plan, we deviated a little from the turn pike-road, and strolled through the hay-fields, invited by their fragrance, the crop having been but lately carried In. It was not long, however, before we discovered we had wandered consi derably from the road, and were perplexed by several tracks which crossed us in various direc tions. At this moment C observed some hay-makers in a field at no great distance ; and being a Thessallan in speed, he ran to enquire the path we should pursue. Fortunately, one of the company 'Spoke English, who, sticking his fork in the ground, and throwing on his coat and waistcoat, came to us without delay. We immediately perceived there was character In this man; a quick, dark eye, and sharp features, gave him that appearance of IntdleCl, which is seldom found to be belied upon further ac quaintance. He enquired our destination and objeCt, and, finding us neither shy nor reserved, declared he should have a pleasure in attending us part of the road to Rhaiddar, which •^as somewhat difficult for strangers to trace. " But," continued he, " I cannot think of do- " ing this, gentlemen, till you have visited my " cottage hard by, and tasted my ale, of which C 46 3 " I keep a good bottle for the refreshment of " my friends." The invitation was given with so much warmth and good-will, that we ac cepted it without hesitation, and followed our guide to his residence. It was an humble dwelling, standing in the midst of a small but neat garden, under the side of a steep hill, shel tering It from the blasts of the east and norths On entering the tenement, which consisted only of a ground floor, we found that it was divided into two apartments; the Inner one containing a bed and four chairs, the outer displaying an infinite variety of heterogeneous articles; im plements of destruction, and books of divinity; culinary utensils, and apothecary's drugs; cob- ler's tools, and English classics; a cabinet and acupboard, tables and stools, chairs and benches. We were shaken by the hand and bidden to sit down; when our friendly conductor, opening the cabinet, produced a bottle and glasses, the shell of a good cheese, some brown bread, and oaten cake. After the bumper of good fellow ship had gone round, mine host favoured us with his history, which he recounted with great spirit, and much humour, exhibiting a compleat example of that rare philosophy, which can meet the maladies of life with a smile, and rise C 47 .3 superior to the blasts of casualty, and the frown^ of fortune. His name, he told us, was Robert Lewis, and his family one of the best in Wales. Inclina tion, he observed, led him to follow a [irofession, but his friends thinking a trade likely to prove more advantageous, he was bound apprentice to a tanner. Happily or unfortunately, for he was doubtful In which hght to consider it; a fair damsel (the daughter of a neighbouring hidal go, who had more than an usual portion of na tional pride) beheld him with complacency; and the regard being mutual, he eluded the vi gilance of her parents, bore her off to a neigh bouring church, and made her his wife. The idea of their fair relation being matched with a man in trade, was what her haughty kinsmen could not brook ; the father's pride more espe- ' clally was sorely wounded, and the whole clan vowed to revenge the affront. Their first at tempts were of a very hostile nature, and Lewis recounted a number of " hair-breadth 'scapes," and " most disastrous chances," which he had experienced from their malice; being frequently shot at from ambuscades, or encountered at night on returning to his dwelling. None of these adventures, however, terminated fatally to i: 48 3 him, the aggressors in general coming off the ¦ivorse, he being a man of great vigour, aCtivity, and spirit. Finding their expectations disap pointed, therefore, his enemies changed their plan of operations, and since they could not in jure his person, they determined to destroy his fortune. Here they were at length successful, as art and cunning will ever be when opposed to candour and incaution. By a long series of malicious schemes, they ruined his business, blasted his credit, and drove him from the coun try where he was settled. " All this, however, " gentlemen," continued he, " hard as it may " seem, I could have borne with patience, had " the effects of their vengeance extended no " further. But, alas ! they wounded me in a " tenderer part, they robbed me of my Letty ! " she died of a broken heart, and left me a wi- " dower, with four children. I confess, I had " much difficulty in bearing up against this " blow, and I was on the point of sinking Into " despair. A short time, however, and a little " reflection, brought me to myself; I recoUeCted " that the partner of my heart was now much " happier than I could have made her; that she " had left me many duties to perform; and that, " in proportion to my difficulties and distresses,^ C 49 3 " should be my exertion and endeavours to re- " move them. I therefore arranged my affairs, " got into a smaller line of business, brought up " my children, and sent them Into the world. " Having done this, and saved a trifle for a rainy " day, I left the busy haunts of men, and pur- " chased the cottage in which you now are; " where I experience as much happiness as I " can hope for on this side of the grave. My "children, I bless God! all turned out well, " and are decently provided for; my health is " sound; my^mlnd calm and serene; 'tis true " I have but little; my wants, however, are " proportioned to my means, and whilst I have " wherewith to procure a crust and a bottle of " ale for the refreshment of a friend, I care not " who possesses the riches and luxuries of life. " In short," said he, " I cannot express my " sentiments and situation better than in the " words of the poet;" and, snatching a book that lay by him, he read, with great spirit, the following copy of verses from Percy's Ancient English Poetry, his eye glistening all the while with the consciousness of independence, and seeming to say, « How vain the ardour of the croud! " How kiu, how indigent the proud! " How little are the great!" E [ -50 3 " My minde to me a kingdome is; " Such perfeft joye therein I finde, " As farre exceeds all earthly blisse, " That God or Nature hath assignde: "Though much J want what most would have, " Yet still my mind forbids to crave. " Content I live, this is my stay;' " I seek no more than may suffice: " I presse to bear no haughtie sway ; " Look what I lack my mind supplies. " Loe! thus I triumph like a king, " Content with that my minde doth bring. " I see how plentie surfets oft, " And hastie clymbers soonest fall: " I see that such as sit aloft " Mishap doth threaten most of all ; " These get wich toile, and keep with feare: " Such cares my minde could never beare. " No princely pompe, nor welthie store, " No force to winne thS vjftorie, " No wylie wit to salve a sore; " No shape to winne a lover's eye; " To none of these I yield as thrall, " For why.' my mind dispiseth all. " Some have too much, yet still they crave, " I little have, yet seeke no more ; " They are but poore, though much they have; " And I am rich with little store : " They poor, I rich; they beg, I give; " They lacke, I lend ; they pine, I live. [ ^1 ] . " I laugh not at another's loss, " I grudge npt at another's gaine; " No worldly wave my minde can tosse, " I brooke that is another's bane : " I feare no foe, nor fawne on friend ; " I loth not life, nor dread mine end. " My welth is helth, and perfedt ease; " My conscience clear my chiefe defence ; " I never seeke by brybes to please, " Nor by desert to give offence ; " Thus do I live, thus will I die; " Would all did so as well as I." It was with difficulty we prevailed On our hospitable host to allow us to pursue our jour ney, after having finished the third bottle of his quadrimum. He Insisted, however, on being our companion for a few miles, and "putting us into the dIreCt road to Bualt. When the period of separation arrived, he grasped us by the hand, and bid us heartily farewell, adding this parting benediction: — " God bless you! gen- " tlemen, and may your journey through life be " as pleasant as your walk is likely to prove. " But should storms and difficulties- await you, " remember that a clear conscience, an inde- " pendent spirit, and a reliance on Providence, " will enable you to brave them all, and bring " you happily home at the last." C ^2 3 Our attention was not particularly awakened by any circumstance till within a mile of Bualt, when we passed (on the turnpike-road) a bridge thrown over a mountain brook, the scenery around which Is very striking; a rent or fissure of the mountain, formed probably by some na tural convulsion, opens to the left, through which a torrent throws Itself over a bed of stones. The sides of the chine are rocky and abrupt, but finely softened and relieved by trees of various sorts, which are sprinkled over the face of the rock, and descend in many spots quite to the ^edge of the stream. It was on the banks of this river, but further to the north ward, that the decisive battle was fought be tween the gallant Llewellyn, the last prince of Wales, and the forces of Edward the First. The -Oamhrian chieftain, it seems, was not pre sent at the commencement ofthe aCtlon, which otherways might have terminated favourably for him. Edmund Mortimer and John GIfford the English commanders, understanding that Lle wellyn had retired from his host. In order to confer with the Radnorshire chieftains, led their men to the attack, anei the first notice of the event which reached the Prince's ear, was brought to him by his own flying troops. All [ ^3 3 that a brave leader, and an experienced soldier, could effeCi In such a situation, Llewellyn per formed; he rallied his men, led them again to the conflict, and animated them by his own ex ample. Fate, however, had decreed that his efforts should be Ineffectual; his army was. en tirely routed, and the. spear of Adam de Franc- ton pierced, his heart whilst he was performing prodigies of valour, and happily prevented; him from, surviving the lost liberties of his country. The body of the Prince, covered with honour able wounds, was discovered, and dispatched to Edward at Conway, who received it with a savage joy. After having sated his fury by of fering many marks of ignominy to the lifeless remains, he sent them to London, where the citizens exceeded even their monarch In bruta lity, exhibiting an instance of that ferocity and want of feeling with which a system of war is found to stain a national character. They car ried It through Cheapslde upon the point of a lance, decorated with a silver crown; then placed it In the common pillory, and afterwards exposed it on the highest part ofthe tower of London. " Such a barbarous triumph over the " body of a brave prince, (as the historian pro- '" perly observes) who died in the defence of [ 54 3 " his liberty and independence, refleCts disgrace ¦" upon the memory of the viCtor; and the re- " jolcings that were made at his death transmit " his encomium to posterity." We passed through the small and neat town of Bualt, or Builth, without halting, as it con tains nothing that deserves particular attention. Like the other towns of Wales, it was anciently protected by a castle; but of this It may be said — etiam periere ruina — for the scite of the keep, or dongeon. Is the only notification of its former existence. Here we first met with the cele brated river V\fy&, on the banks of which the town is built. This beautiful, meandring stream, the theme of poets, and the fruitful sub ject of tourists, bursting from the top of the mountain Plimhimmon in Montgomeryshire, pursues Its capricious and sinuous course through Radnorshire,, Brecknockshire, Here fordshire, Monmouthshire, and Glocestershire; and after receiving numberless tributary streams, and exhibiting the richest variety of picturesque scenery in a track of two hundred and eighty miles, empties Itself Into the Severn a little be low the town of Chepstow. The bridge thrown over this river to the north end of Builth, de fines the limits of two counties, the one half - [ S5 i : of it being in Brecknockshire, and the other in '• Radnorshire. Leaving this on our left, we pursued the road to Rhaiddar, which runs over the hill to the eastward of the river. We had not proceeded more than a mile, before the scenery of the Wye became too interesting to be passed with transient observation; we there fore threw ourselves on its eastern bank under the shade of a friendly aspin tree, to contem plate Its beauties at leisure. At this spot the view is particularly striking. The river ap pears at our feet, dashing and roaring through a bed of huge, misshapen rocks, and forming, in its struggles, numberless whirlpools, eddies, and small cascades. A bank, rude, abrupt, and bare, rises before us, pleasingly contrasted by the verdant and wOoded declivity opposite to It. As the eye roves up the river, It catches softer beauties; the sides become less preci pitous, and more thickly clothed with trees. The woods at length descend to the brink of the stream, which, making a quick turn at the distance of a mile, is suddenly lost in a deep mass of shade. The back ground Is formed by the mountains of Montgomeryshire, whose lofty summits rise Into the clouds, and give a mag nificent finishing to the scene. It was not t se ] without regret that we quitted this spot to pur sue our walk, admonished by .the consideration of our having sixteen miles further to go, and the sun being within two hours of " the place of his rest." In truth, we soon discovered that we had already been too dilatory; the day be ginning to close, attended with no very agreeable circumstances. It was an evening of Ossian; and the scenery around rendered his description very appropriate. " Autumn is dark on the " mountains; grey mist rests on the hills. The " whirlwind is heard on the heath. Dark rolls " the river through the narrow plain." In pro portion as the hght of day faded from us, the roads became more rocky, unequal, and abomi nable. A considerable quantity of rain had fallen a few hours before, which filling up the numberless inequalities with which these stony ways abound, we continually plunged Into pools of mud, and stumbled over rocky fragments, alternately hazarding the pains of suffocation, and the fraCiure of our limbs. This very agree able amusement continued till half past nine o'clock, when we were blessed with the sight of a rush-light glimmering through the window of the Angel Inn, which we entered about two hours ago. Our first appearance was made in C ^7 3 , the kitchen, where a scene was exhibited that would have afforded an admirable subjeCt for the pencil of Hogarth. A large table covered with rounds of beef, loins of pork, fragments of geese, &c. &c. appeared at one end, round which was seated a motley groupe of noisy Welsh rustics, who voraciously devoured the good things before them. Opposite to these were two Scotch pedlars, eating their frugal repast In silence, an oaten cake, and rock-hke cheese, and diluting It with " acid tiff;" their eyes rivetted in wistful gazq, on the substantial fare which smoked on the adjoining table. The middle of the kitchen was occupied by a number of sportsmen just returned from growse- shooting on the mountains, cleaning their guns, and preparing them for the morrow's amuse ment. In the back ground flamed an enormous fire, where a counterpart of dame Leonarda was preparing another set of joints, for a second party of sportsmen who were just arrived. Tired pointers and snoring spaniels were scat tered over the floor, and completed ^he pICture. Notwithstanding the disadvantageous figure we made, (for to confess the truth we were mar vellously foul) and the numerous guests who called on the mistress of the house in all direc- [ -58 ] tions, we met with an attention and civility from Mrs. Evans (the hostess) that will always claim our grateful remembrance. We were shewn Into a snug little room, and speedily re galed vvlth a sumptuous supper. To check, .however, In some measure, the pleasure which arose from the comparison of our present situa tion with what we had experienced In the la.st six miles of our walk, we were given to under stand, that only one of us could be accommo dated with a bed in the house, and that the other must sleep'at a cottage a quarter of a mile distant from it. Sad news this, to tired travel lers, on a stormy night! Something, notwith standing, was to be done, and one of us must brave the pelting of a pitiless storm that rattled against the casements. — Ja£la sit alea. — We de termined to toss up for the chamber at the Lion, and fortune has just declared in favour of C^ . I am not apt to grieve at the success of another, but I confess I never felt more inclined to quar rel with the fickle goddess for her decision, than on the present occasion, when a long walk through execrable roads has almost deprived me of the faculty of loco-motion. Your's, &c. R. W. Rhaiddar si LETTER IV. TO THE SAME. DEAR SIR, Bevil' S-Bridge, Aug. lytb. ' I "HIS has been a day of beauties, wonders, and horrors ; and though including the shortest walk we have hitherto taken, has ex- jhlblted a greater variety of extraordinary and impressive scenery, than we have witnessed' since our departure from Bath. At eight o'clock we had finished our breakfast, paid our very reasonable bill, and quitted the town of Rhaid dar.* Our road first conducted us over a mo- * In enquiring for this place it is necessary for the traveller to pronounce it Rhaithar, as, in Welsh, the double d has the force of the English th. C 60 ] dern stone bridge of one arch, which bestrldesj J the Wye to the north-west of the town. Here the river again displays much of that Impetu osity which we had before observed in it, foam- *; ing over its adamantine bed, and' forming a cascade of several feet almost immediately un der the bridge. The foot-path winds hy its margin through the meadows, leaving the turn- plke-road a few hundred yards to the right. We continued along the banks of the Wye about a mile, and then ascended the mountains which run parallel with it, that we might com mand the view of the vale we had been passing through. It was, in truth, a pleasing, varied landscape. The sinuous course of the river; the vivid verdure of the meado.ws which It wa ters; the little town of Rhaiddar, with its neat white-washed cottages; and the dark mountains which surround it on every side, combined to produce a piCture new and striking. Descend ing again jnto the road we pursued Its undula tions; sometimes hanging upon the brow of a lofty mountain of schistus; at other times wind ing under beetling precipices of rude rock, whose black projecting masses seemed to threaten de struction to the passing traveller. Every thing is In unison with this description. The waving C 61 3 woods, which had beautified our former pros- peCts, now disappeared. The neat cottages, which had hitherto ornamented the vallies, now ceased to enliven the scene. Man had fled " the dismal situation waste and wild ;" and no I traces of human society appeared, except In two or three small hovels, which occurred in the course of ten miles, and were inhabited by the joyless beings who tended the widely-spread flocks that fed upon these mountains. This desolate plClure was at length relieved by a lit tle hamlet, upon which the road suddenly turns, about eleven miles from Rhaiddar. Here the river Ystwyth, with a fury very disproportion ate to its size, rushes under a handsome stone bridge, built by Mr. Baldwin, of Bath, In 1783, at the expence of Colonel Johnes, of Hafod; the finished architecture of which is con trasted by the Irregular disposition of number less misshapen rocks, which form the sides and bed of this roaring stream. While we were , admiring the romantic beauties of the spot, our attention was attraCted by an angler throwing his fine for trout and salmon-peal, with which the rivers of Wales abound. The curious cir cumstance attending this sportsman was his using the left hand only In his operations, and [ 62 3 managing, under that apparent disadvantage, a line of uncommon length. On addressing some enquiries to him, we found he had formerly been engaged in working a lead mine, but having had his right arm crushed when blasting a rock, he was obliged to relinquish that employment; and had now recourse to fishing, fcJr the sup port of himself and family. In which he was very successful, being able with his left arm to throw a line of twenty-two yards in length. Find ing him a'shrewd Intelligent fellow, and know ing there were some lead mines in the neigh bourhood, we requested him to accompany us thither. This he readily assented "to, and in a quarter of an hour conduCted us to the spot. These subterraneous excavations lie in the side of the mountains which rise to the right of the river, and are called *Cwin-yr-ystwyth mines. The proprietor Is a gentleman of Aber-ystwyth, whose profits from them amounted annually in timesof peace to seven thousand pounds; war, however, slackening the demand for the article, and interrupting the markets, has diminished his receipts considerably, and they' produce at pre- • The letter w has, in Welsh, the same pronunciation as the oo in English;, this word should consequently be pronounced Coo-m. I C 63 3 ,sent little more than half as much. Its evils extend also to the labourer, who, instead of six ¦guineas, (the wages he received during peace) now clears only five guineas per ton. For this sum he bores for the vein, blasts the rock, ex tracts,' cleans, and sorts the ore, and produces one ton of It fit for the furnace. The miner's employment Is laborious, and dangerous; and his profits uncertain. Frequent injuries hap pen to him In blasting the rock, ^d digging the ore; and cold, damp, and vapour, unite in destroying his health, and shortening his life. As his gains are hardly earned, they are also precarious. Being paid not according to the quantum of his labour, but In proportion to the measure of marketable ore which he produces, it frequently happens that two or three weeks elapse without his coUeCtlng a sufficient quan tity to pay the expence of his gunpowder and candles. In these cases the master advances a sum of money to. the miner, sufficient for the support of his family, which he returns when fortune has dIreCted him to a rich vein of ore. It Is now that he makes up for his antecedent ill-luck, and one, and even two guineas have been the rich reward of every day's labour for three or four successive weeks. Nothing in- C 64 3 deed can better Illustrate the uncertainty of a inlner's profits than a circumstance told us by one of them : that he was sometimes In arrear to his master fifteen or twenty guineas for mo nies advanced to him, which he had been able to liquidate In ten days or a fortnight, and pro vide for his family at the same time, by the for tunate discovery of a productive vein. This ¦success, however, Is not so frequent as to keep the labourer above extreme poverty; nor does his gain appear to be at all equal to the toil, danger, and 111 effeCts, of his painful avocation, which he pursues with unremitting exertion for felght hours every day, from six o'clock till two. The laborious process of digging for the level, blasting the rock, extracting the ore, and redu cing it into small masses, is performed by the men; the less toilsohie task of sifting, washing, and cleaning It, Is left to their wives and chil dren. The whole operation Is short and simple. When the ore Is extracted and brought to a particular spot, the first employment of the workman is to beat it Into small lumps, with a heavy hammer. It Is then separated from the quartz, spar, and other substances conneCted with It, In Its natural state. These masses are again reduced to a smaller size, by similar [ 65 ] means, and afterwards thoroughly sifted, washed, and cleansed from every impurity. The next step is its removal to the stamping mill, where it Is cast into a large wooden trough, and pounded into small particles, the size of a pin's head, by heavy beams of timber, shod with massive iron weights. These beams are made of oak or some other ponderous wood, several feet In length; they are elevated and depressed by means of a water-mill, and discharged with mighty force on the matter to be granulated. The ore, by this process being sufficiently pul verized, is conveyed Into a trench, thro' which a certain quantity of water gently flows ; here it subsides, and settles at the bottom, whilst the remaining impurities are carried off by the stream. The article is then marketable, and sent away for exportation. Lead IS found in two mountains contiguous to each other; but the product of that nearest to Rhaiddar Is said to be the more valuable. It Is also acquired with the greater ease, the levels being driven not more than twenty or thirty yards into the mountain; whilst the other is penetrated to the prodigious extent of three hundred yard& A neighbouring house of entertainment af forded lis an opportunity of returning the fisher- C 66 3 man's civility, by treating him with a bottle of his favourite cwrrw. Our gratitude produced additional favours, and heinslsted on conducting us round the walks of Hafod, through which we might pass in our way to the Devll's-Brldge, by a route not very circuitous. A short dis tance therefore from the village of Pentre, we turned down a lane to the left, and soon found ourselves in the romantic scenery of Colonel Johnes's* celebrated place. In order to form a faint Idea of this spot, you must, my dear sir, picture to yourself a deep and narrow valley, winding between mountains of towering height and fantastic shapes, thickly mantled ¦with luxuriant woods, which fringe the precipitous sides of these enormous protuberances from their summits to their base. Through this val ley, the river Ystwyth, a truly alpine stream, impetuous, foaming, and fierce, throws its crys talline waters; sometimes darting from an open rocky ledge into a deep and dark abyss below; at others, pouring through the gloomy recesses of an Impenetrable wood, and discovering its course only by the roaring of its waters; In creasing Its current as It flows, by the addition of numberless little streams, which leaping * The present Member of Parliament for Cardiganshire, C 67 3 down the mountains in all directions, hurry to unite themselves with it. On a gentle rise of land, which swells gradually from the river, and backed by a noble wood, that shelters it from the eastern blasts, stands the delightful mansion of Mr. Johnes, built In the modern Gothic style, ilnlting every possible convenience and comfort with an appearance of the greatest elegance, and the most correCt taste. Around it are walks varied and extensive, commanding views beau tiful, romantic, and astonishing ; woods and rocks; bridges and cataraCls; the highly-orna- jmented. garden, and the rude, rugged, uncul tivated mountain. Indeed, the whole together forms a scene so striking, that while wander ing through its ever-changing beauties, we feel no inclination to tax Mr. Cumberland with en thusiasm, when he declared, that In ten years travelling through the Alps, the Apennines, the Sabine Hills, and the Tyrolese; the shores of the Adriatic; the Glaciers of Switzerland; and the banks of the Rhine ; he never saw any thing so fine, never so many pictures concentered in one spot. It Is no small addition to the plea sure we experienced in contemplating the won ders of this delicious retreat, to refleCt that its enlightened and liberal owner is alive to C 68 3 Its beauties, and enjoys .the scenes which his own elegant taste has contributed to render perfect. " Happy the man who to these shades retires, " Whom Nature charms, and whom the Muse inspires ; " Whom humbler joys of homefelt quiet pleas«, " Successive study, exercise, and ease." Here it is that Mr. Johnes, In the bosom of an united family, and in the rational society of estimable friends, passes all those hours, which his public duties do not lay claim to; relieving poverty, encouraging industry, diffusing happi ness, and affording a noble example of that ac tive benevolence, which. If It a]\Vays accompa nied the [lower of doing good, would be found to be the surest guardian of extensive possessi ons, as well as the greatest blessing which theis enjoyment can bestow. I assure you it was not without an effort that we left the scenery of Hafod, after having ex hausted three hours in surveying only a part of its beauties; admonished, however, by the ap proach of evening, we turned our faces towards the Devil's-Bridge, and wound up a steep ascent to gain the road which led thither. For a con siderable distance the country formed a striking contrast to that which we had just quitted. It [ 69 3 ^as barren, dull, and uninteresting, with no thing to vary the scene, but a few straggling sheep, which bronzed the scanty herbage of the hills. We continued gradually ascending for nearly three mUes, when we reached an ele vation that recompensed us in a moment for the severe toil of an hour. Immediately below us lay the truly astonishing and tremendous scenery of the neighbourhood of the Devil's- Bridge. A profound chasm, stretching nearly east and west for upwards of a mile, the almost perpendicular sides of which are compleatly co vered with trees of different kinds; the elegant foliage of the mountain ash, the mournful shade of the pensile birch, and the broad arms, of the majestic oak. Through the bottom of this abyss the river Mynach pours its roaring tide, hidden from the eye by the deep shade of. surrounding woods, but bursting upon the ear in the awful " sound of many waters;" In the thunder of numerous cataraCls, leaping from ledge to ledge, and lashing the hollows of exca vated rocks, which reverberate and multiply the roar. Immediately above this rich but awful scene, rise the neighbouring hills of Cardigan shire, bleak, barren, and dark, assuming the most fantastic shapes, and thrown about in the I: 70 3 wildest confusion. The horizon is bounded by the lofty summits ofthe more important moun^ tains of Montgomeryshire -and Merioneth, ' amongst which the broad, huge head of Pllm-r himmon exalts itself to the skies. We de scended the hill, and proceeded to the Hafod Arms, a neat and comfortable house, built by Mr. Johnes, one amongst other instances of his public spirit, as it was ereCted for the accom modation of those who visit the wonders of this singular country. We were for some time In painful suspence whether or not we could pro cure beds for the night, as the house is full, and the apartments all occupied; at length, how ever, we were made easy by the Information that a neighbouring gentleman would accom modate us at his villa, which stands about half • a mile from the inn. Having ordered refresh ment for our friendly conductor, and surprised- hlm by a small gratuity (for he exhibited ano ther Instance of Welsh disinterested kindness) C ••< ' and I proceeded to explore the horrors of the DevIl's-Brldge by ourselves, the guide (who Is the master of the house) being absent from home. ¦ Our first observations were made from the bridge. This, consists of a single arch, nine and twenty feet in the span, thrown over C 71 3 the original one (which still remains) In the year 1753-* The chasm, that yawns under these arches Is so overhung by wood, that the eye with difficulty catches even a partial view ofthe gloomy abyss below. This circumstance, however, heightens the Impressions of terror, which such a scene Is calculated to Inspire. Fancy, , free, and fond of painting for herself, pourtrays with her magic pencil to the mind, wonders that excefed reality; horrors which have no " local habitation," and, exist only in the vivid and ever-shifting pictures of the imagina tion. In order to obtain a nea;-er and less In terrupted view of this tremendous fissure, and thd torrent that rushes through it, we pro ceeded over the bridge; and turning quickly round to the right hand, descended an abrupt and perilous path that conduCted us to the base of the rocks on the eastern side of the arch. Language is but ill calculated to convey an ac curate idea of the scene which Is here presented to the eye. The awful height of the fissure. * The old arch was built by the Monks of Strata Florida Abbey (a religious house ten miles from hence, the piduresque ruins of which still remain) about the conclusion of the eleveiith century. It is called in Welsh Pont-ar-Mynach, the bridge of the Mynach ; and Pont-ar-JJiaiul, the bridge of the 'Devil; vulgar superstition jssertirig Satan to be the construflor of it, C 72 3 which the bridge bestrides one hundred and twenty feet above the observer, rendered doubly gloomy by Its narrowness, and the wood which overhangs it; the stunning noise of the torrent thundering at his feet, and struggling through black, opposing rocks, which Its ceaseless Im petuosity has worn Into shapes strange and gro tesque; fill the mind with a mingled hut sub lime emotion of astonishment, terror, and delight. Having gratified our curiosity here, we clambered up the perpendicular path, and going in a left hand direction from the bridge, about two hundred yards, pursued a winding descent that leads to a rocky projection, which commands a view of the noble cataraCts to the westward of the arch. Here the Mynach, bursting at once upon the eye In all its terrific majesty, is seen throwing itself down ragged rocks at least two hundred and ten feet, In four separate, tremendous falls. The first is a leap of nearly twenty feet ; after which it is received by a fathomless bason, where for a moment it seems to rest Its turbid waters, in order to re cruit its strength and pour with greater violence down a second fall of sixty feet. Its third at tempt decreases again to twenty feet, and here it falls amongst broken rocks, which in vain i: 73 3 - present themselves as barriers to its passage,. This opposition gives it tenfold rage, and rush ing over a projefting ledge with wonderful ve locity, It tumbles headlong down a descent of one hundred and ten feet, and then hurries ¦through a stony channel to unite its waters with the Rhiddol, which rushes from the oppo site mountains with nearly similar grandeur and impetuosity. We should have protraCted our ¦ contemplations amid this awful scenery for some time, had not a sudden flash of lightning aijjd a loud clap of thunder. Issuing from a black cloud that had imperceptibly gathered round our heads, warned us to seek the friendly sheir ter of our Inn. We accordingly ascended the steep side of the dale, gathering in our way the Rubus Idaus and Vaccinium uliginosum, and hast ened to the Hafod Arms, at which we arrived just time enough to avoid the " mingled storm" that rages without doors, where, even now, in the language of Thomson, " Huge Uproar lords it wide." Your's, &c. R. W. [ra] Machynlleth ij miles Lynlloedd fi>) to Llanidlos Plimhimmon Lyn-Uygad-Rhydol Pont-Tyrwyd =to Llanidlos Aberystwyth Road^J^'^Devil's-Bridge I LETTER V. TO THE SAME. Devil' s-Bridge, Friday Morning DEAR SIR, Nine o'Clock. Could almost say with the unfortunate Clarence, " O, I have pass'd a miserable night, f ' So full of fearful sounds, of ugly sights, ' ". That as I am a Christian faithful man, " I wo(ild not spend another such a night, 'f Though 'twere to buy a world of happy days; *' So f«ll of dismal terror w^s the time." t 76 3 1 have already observed to you, that as the rooms of the inn had all been engaged before our arrival, C— — and I were obliged to sleep at a house some distance from it, the only private one in this wild and solitary neighbourhood. Flattering ourselves that the tempest would de crease, we passed the time till the clock told ten, very agreeably, at our comfortable quarters, jn the company of a gentleman and two ladies, who obligingly Invited us to share their sitting- room, and join their party. Finding, however, that the storm rather increased than abated, we determined to brave its fury, and seek our lodging. We therefore prevailed upon a pos tillion to accompany us, and the terrified cham bermaid who carried linen for our beds; and, thus conducted, commenced our expedition. But never shall I forget the suUimlty of the scene which presented itself to us when we reached the DevIl's-Brldge. The winds seemed to blow, with all their rage, from all their quar- •ters. The thunder rattled through the sky in peals, loud, successive, and- almost uninter rupted. The cataracts which tumbled beneath us, strengthened by the accumulation of waters produced by a torrent of rain, added to the din by their ceaseless, aggravated roar; whilst the [ 77 3 lightning bursting occasionally from the pitchy mantle which curtained the whole hemisphere, at one moment displayed all the gloomy hor rors of the scenery around us, and in the next left us involved in impenetrable darkness. If was the tempest described by the poet; and the circumstances of the neighbouring country were happily appropriate to his description: — " Wide-rent, the clouds •' Pour a whole flood: and yet, its flame unquench'd, " Th' unconquerable lightning struggles through , " Ragged and fierce, or in red whirling balls, " And fires the mountains with redoubled rage. " The gloomy woods " Start at the flash, and from their deep recess " Wide-flaming out, their trembling inmates shake, " Amid Carnarvon's mountains rages loud " The repercussive roar: with mighty crash " Into the flashing deep, from the rude rocks " Of Penmaenmaur, heap'd hideous to the sky, " Tumble the smitten cliffs; and Snowdon's peak " Dissolving, instant yields his wintry load. " Far- seen the heights of heathy Cheviot blaze, " And Thule bellows through her utmost isles." It was not without difficulty and danger that we reached our destination: the violence of the wind impeding our progress, and the chasm which we skirted, hidden by the surrounding [ 78 ] gloom, rendering every step perilous. On our arrival at the mansion (which was nothing more than a large farm-house) we were received by a stout Welsh female, who conduCted us in silence, for she could speak no English, through a long passage, to our respective apartments. The first defeCt that I discovered in mine, was the want of shutters and curtains to exclude the vivid lightning which darted through the win dow every minute. I threw myself, notwith standing, into bed, and fell immediately asleep. My mind, however, had been so struck by the terrific scenery of the day, and the awful cir cumstances of the night, that the impressions which they had excited still remained strongly marked upon It; and fancy, (according to the philosophy of the poet)* taking advantage of * " But know that iw the soul " Are many lesser faculties, that serve " Reason as chief; among these Fancy next *' Her ofBce holds ; of all external things, *' Which the five watchful senses represent, " She forms imaginations, airy shapes, " Which Reason joining or disjoining, frames " All what we affirm, or what deny, and call " Our knowledge or opinion ; then retires " Into her private cell when nature rests. " Oft in her absence mimic Fancy wakes C 79 j the hour when reason reposes herself, conjured up ten thousand horrible shapes; " All monstrous, all prodigious things, " Abominable, unutterable, and worse, " Than fables yet have feign'd, or fear conceiv'd, " Gorgons, and Hydras, and Chimsras dire." In short, my friend, I woke in the horrors, just time enough to observe, by the glare of a flash of hghtning, an objeCt, black and huge, glide softly out of my room. " Obstupui, steteruntque coms, et vox faucibus haesit." Almost at the same moment several deep , groans, which seemed to proceed from the ad joining passage, reached my ear. I honestly confess I am no hero, and therefore felt a consi derable degree of alarm, though I did not know exactly what to fear, I started out of bed, however, and grasping my faithful oaken staff, sallied Into the passage, with a view of commu nicating to C what I had seen and heard. But before I proceeded three steps without the door, my nose encountered some hard projecting *' To iniltate her; but misjoining shapes, «' Wild works produces oft, and most in dream*, " 111 matching words and deeds long past or late." MiLTOK's Far. Lost* . I^ 80 3 substance so violently, as nearly to level me with the floor. Corporal anguish quickly ba nished mental alarm; I returned to my room, and barricading the entrance with a table and chair, (for there was no latch or fastning) crept again into bed, where, after a time, sleep once more wrapt me In forgetfulness. Morning developed the mystery of the apparition and noise; a large, black sheep-dog, which I saw upon the stairs, accounting sufficiently for the one; and a patient in a violent paroxysm ofthe tooth-ache, explaining the cause of the other. On our return to the inn we again visited the scenery of the DevIl's-Brldge, which had re ceived additional grandeur from the deluges of the night. The view of the falls was less dis- tinCt, and consequently more subhme, than on the preceding day; a mist floated over the abyss, arising from the foaming troubled waters be low, which prevented us from seeing the cata raCts In detail, and gave to the eye one unbroken whole of dreadful majesty. Upon this cloud of vapour, the sun, occasionally bursting out, threw its light; and the rays being refraCted from the spherical drops which composed It, produced the effeCt of a vivid rainbow, and added inexpressible beauty to the scene. [ 81 3 . The attentive and obliging host has just pro vided us with our excellent, breakfast; and when we have dispatched It, we ih^l cross the mountains to Machynlleth, where I piirpose to finish my present epistle. Machynlleth,* 8 o'clock Friday Evening. WE have at length completed a tiresome walk of twenty-five miles, over mountains bleak, barren, and boggy, enlivened with few objeCls to interest or delight. Having engaged a guide to accompany us, we left the Hafod Arms about ten o'clock, and pursued (what the Welsh af- feCl to call) the turnpike to Llanldlos fpr a mile and half. Hert?V bridle-road branches off, to the left, by which we descend to a small ham let called Pont-ar-wyd, or wide bridge, from an accommodation of that kind thrown over the river Ryddol. During this short distance we were amused by numberless cataraCls, pouring from the mountains in ah direClions, occasioned by. the copious rains of the night, which we had ,1 .. — « * This place is pronounced Mahunkleth, the c dropping its Dower, the ji assuming the sound of u, and the double // having th« force of chl or kl. [ 82 3 been deprecating from the first moment they fell; but without which, half the beauty of this mountainous scenery would have been lost to US; so true is it, that by those who are inclined to search for the good contained in apparent evil, every inconvenience will be found to be attended by its commensurate advantage. Ten miles from the DevIl's-Brldge, we passed the foot of " huge Plimhimmon" the fruitful father of rivers, from whose " cloud-capt head" flow the vagarious Wye, and noble Severn, with other less important streams. There Is nothing either piCluresque or fantastic in the form of this mountain; but, rising with dignity above the neighbouring elevations. It conveys the idea of massy solidity, and substar "M majesty. Our guide now conduCted us by^he side of two large lead-mines, and a copper-mine, where we saw the process of extracting, cleansing, stamp ing, and dressing the ore, performed In a man ner similar to what I have observed In a former letter. At a short distance from this spot, after climbing a steep hill, we were suddenly sur prised with a magnificent mountain scene. The jagged head of Cader-Idris, and the soli tary summit of Snowdon, make conspicuous figures in the picture, which is rendered com- [ 83 3 ¦pleat in its kind by the " thousand subjeQ hills" of all shapes and forms that rise around them/ This noble prospeCt was but of short duration; we soon descended into a boggy bottom, that continued till within three miles of Machyn lleth, when a rugged cafrlage-road received^ and conducted us into the town. The situation of this place is extremely pleasing, watered by the broad and crystalline Dovy; surrounded by verdant meadows, and sheltered from the winds by lofty mountains on every side. In this se questered spot did the great Welsh hero, Owen Glendower, assemble the States of the Princi pality in 1402, and accept from their hands the crown of Wales, of which his first successes ¦seemed to promise him the eventual possession. His career; however, had nearly been checked in an early stage, by the treachery of Sir David Gam, the mortal enemy of Owen, who Intended to murder him whilst conferring with his chief tains in the; parliament of Machynlleth. For tunately, the design was deteCled, and Glen dower, contrary to the spirit and praClice of the times, had the generosity and fortitude to for- give the traitor. We have been shewn the old, barn-like house, in which this memorable synod was convened, by an- attendant at our inn, (the C 84 3 Wyftne Arms) who, as we approached it, gfa- dually warmed Into an enthusiastic strain of eulogy on the charaCler of the old warrior. The persuasion of portents having attended his birth, and oi his being a proficient in the art of ma gic, had been impressed upon the mind of our guide by tradition, and his absurd stories brought to our recoUeClion that description of himself which the muse of Shakespeare has put into the mouth of Owen: — ........" At my nativity, "¦ The front of Heaven was full of fiery shapes, "¦ Of burning cressets ; and, at my birth, ¦ " The frame and the foundation of the earth " Shak'd like a coward. — ' — " I can call spirits from the vasty deep, " And teach thee, cousin, to command the devil." Favoured and protected by Richard the Second, to whom he had been squire ofthe body, Owen continued the firm friend of this unfortunate monarch to the termination of his miseries; and having been contumeliously treated by Richard's sucessor, he boldly took arms, and laid claim to the crown of Wales, as lineal descendant of the great Llewellyn. For fifteen years did he pursue his claim with various success, in oppo sition to all the efforts of Henry the Fourth, C 85 3 and his warlike son; at length, however, death put a period to his hopes and fears, at the house of his daughter on the 20th of September, 1415, In the sixty-first year of his age. The generous attempt of Owen was not indeed crowned with success, but his name still lives in the recoUeClion of his grateful countrymen, who venerate him as the last assertor of their liberties, the last hero of Cambria, Your's, &c. R. W. Cadcr- Idiia s to Dinas-y-Mouddy pool of three Graim 'aTalyllyn to Aberdovey_^^^J Essalroiliog ; to Dinas-y-Mouddy gDovey River Machynlleth LETTER VI. TO THE SAME, DEAR SIB, Dolgelly, Aug, igtb^ "TVJOTHING strikes the traveller who passes ¦*^ ^ through Wales more forcibly, than the extreme reasonableness ofthe bills at houses of public entertainment. Our supper last night was superb; it consisted of a sole, a trout, and a gwyniad, (a delicious fish, somewhat like the trout, and peculiar to Alpine countries) with C 88 3 ^very proper accompaninienf; mutton steaks, vegetables, excellent bread and cheese, and three tankards of London porter, " With toast embroASTi'd, " And fragrant nutmeg fraught, divine repast!" pur beds were comfortable, and the breakfast this morning was fit for a monarch. You will Scarcely credit me, when I assure you, the charge for this sumptuous fare and admirable Accommodation, amounted only to five shilllrigS jand two-pence; which sum was divided into the following items: — s. d. Supper ---20 Porter- - 1 6 Breakfast --18 5 2 This appears the more extraordinary, as the prices of provisions between Wales and Eng land 'do not differ in any thing like the same proportion with the charges at the inns In the respective countries. We have hitherto found ¦good butcher's meat not to be gotten under six pence per pound ; bread full as dear as In the south, and butter little less expensive. These indeed are unnatural prices In Wales, one un fortunate consequence of the war we are en' [ 89 3 gaged in, which has, in the Principality, raised the article of butcher's meat above one hundred per cent, and added, in an unprecedented man ner to the expence of every article of life.* In our way through the town we looked into its church, the door of which stood open, an iJl- buiit, misshapen edifice. At the western end of it was a large gallery where thirty or forty boys, the lads ofthe town and neighbourhood, were instruCled in writing and reading both Welsh and English, during the summer months. We found this praClice had been observed here for some years, a circumstance that accounted for our own vernacular tongue being more ge nerally spoken at Machynlleth, than in many other , towns at a less distance from England, We passed the Dovy, which flows to the north of Machynlleth and divides it from Merioneth shire, over an old stone bridge, from which we were gratified by a sight entirely new to us, the management of coracles, and the mode of fishing from them. These little water conveyances are, you know, of high antiquity, receiving their .-• * ¦\\re found this to be the case entirely through Wales. Till within these six years, mutton was to be bought at ad. and zjd. per 'pound, and other meat in proportion; now 5id. and 6d. are com monly given for good joints from Usk to Conway. [ 90 3 name from the coria, or skins, with which they were originally covered. They have now indeed dropt their right to this appellation; a coarse,. pitched canvas being substituted as a coating in the room of leather. Intended to carry only one person each, they are not more than five feet Jong, and four broad, rounded at the cor ners, and constructed of wicker work; and are consequently sufficiently light to be conveyed on the back of the fisherman to his home when the labour of the day Is concluded. Simple as this construction is. We find the ancient Britons encountered the waves of the ocean In them, voyaging In their wicker baskets covered with lea ther to the Island MiClIs;* a perilous underta king, jvhether the name be applicable to the Isle of Wight, or to one of the Cassiterldes. The man who manages the coracle Is seated ex- aClly In the centre of it, and direCls its motion by the aClion of a small paddle, with which it is truly astonishing how compleatly he com mands this apparently aukward vessel. Two coracles usually go together in order to assist each other In fishing; an operation of singular ad- • Ad eam (insulam) Britannos iiitilibus niyiiigijs (orio circumsut'^ navig»re.— I — Plin, Hist. 1. 4, c. \b. C 91 3 dress and aClivity, the right hand being em ployed all the time In paddling, the left hand in conducting the net, and the teeth in holding the line attached to It. We riow entered a deep vale, whose beauties are so multiplied and various, that I really feel myself unable to describe them with any de gree of justice. The first objeCl that led us from the road was a roaring cataraCl, on our left hand, formed by the torrent of the Dyflas, .which flings itself with foaming precipitation down this valley. Another more Important cascade, on the same stream, occurred before we had proceeded two miles further. Here the river, struggling through Its craggy bed, falls suddenly from a ledge about fifteen feet in height, and dashes through a deep and perpen dicular rocky chasm, the sides of which are scooped into semicircular excavations by the ceaseless aCtlon of the water. The pure trans parency of this dehclous stream Is such, that the smallest pebble may be clearly seen at the depth of fifteen feet, and we more than once distinguished the rapid course of the trout thppugh it, when we were thirty or forty yards above its level. Froin hence for three miles the road winds through a country exquisitely C 92 3 beautiful. On the left the Dyflas is seen bro ken into a thousand cascades, now foaming through its stony channel, and now leading its more tranquil vvaters by verdant meads and flowery banks. A steep hill, luxuriantly co vered with timber trees, shoots up to a tower^ ing height beyond it, and is opposed by eleva tions equally stupendous on the right hand, from whose precipitous sides craggy rocks, of enormous magnitude and fantastic form, beetle over the road In a most tremendous manner. This scene was a proper prelude to the view that opened to us at the seventh mile stone from' Machynlleth, when Cader-Idris, the ma jestic father of the Merionethshire mountains, appeared In all his grandeur, literally lifting his black precipices above the clouds. Animated with an impatient desire to explore the won ders of this mountain, we took an hasty view of Tallyllyn pool, a beautiful lake at the south ern foot of Cader-Idris, and passed on tq a pub lic-house at Minsfordd-Tallyllyn, where we had been dIreCled to procure a guide. The master of it, Edward Jones, a Welshman, whose na tural ingenuity had been sharpened Into cumting by a„Joi]ig.^jesidence In England, after some little instances of Imposition, introduced to us a [ 93 ] f- person as our companion and conduClor over the mountain. Having therefore provided Our selves with some necessary articles of refresh ment, we set out, attended by our new acquaint ance, Mr. David - Pughe, a thick-set little Cambrian between fifty and sixty. We soon found he was a charaCler. His pompous man ner and affeCled dignity were truly diverting, and the triumph with which he dwelt on the _ Antiquity of his family afforded a whimsical ex ample of that harmless pride which the Welsh, with all their excellencies, possess In a higher degree than any of their neighbours. The founder of his stock was, he assured us, an hero who flourished some ages before the Christian epoch; and he affirmed, it appeared by- an ela borate genealogy which was made out about three years since, that his race had flowed in an unlntferrupted stream for no less than three ' ' thousand year^ ! Leaving the usual road of ascent, we visited a torrent that rushed down the southern side of the mountain, and formed in Its course a series of very pleasing Cascades. We followed its acclivities, and after an hour's hard labour, reached the vale in which it had Its origin, a deep recess called Dolydd-Cay. Here the [ 94 3 heights of Cader-Idris began to shut us In, arid seclude us from the sight of every thing but Its own lofty precipices. Our walk had not as yet afforded us the sight of the indigenous animal of the country, the goat; we saw them, how ever, now in perfeClIon, skipping amongst the crags of Cader-Idris, In their original ferine state. Not that they are unclaimed property, since they all belong to some one or other of the neighbouring farmers; but as the proprietor does not use them for domestic purposes, and leaves them to wander for months unmolested, they may be said to preserve the charaCler of their natural wildness. Such is the extent of the mountain, that they are caught with the utmost difficulty, when winter renders It proper to take them home; and the only mode of effeCtIng this, is by pursuing them with cur dogs, which, after a considerable time, literally tire them down. Here too we were desired to observe the rocky coverts where the foxes (numerous amongst these cliffs) took refuge from their blood-thirsty pursuers; and shuddered, whilst Pughe, who was himself " a mighty hunter," gave us an account of those desperate chaces which dogs and men follow, through region*' that no lowlander can behold without terror. C 95 3 The sport, however, to those who enjoy it di vested of fear, must be most glorious and ani mating. The rocks and precipices re-echo the united sounds of huntsmen, dogs, and horns, and a chorus is formed singular, striking, and indescribable. Another half hour brought us into a second valley called Cwm-y-cay, a deep hollow In the heart ofthe mountain, shut In to the north, west, and south, by huge rocks of porphyry, and black perpendlcnlar precipices of five and six hun dred feet in height. The centre of this coomb is filled by a clear and extensive lake, of unfa thomable depth, which, together with other surrounding circumstances, give the whole hol low the appearance of an ancient volcanic cra ter. This piece of water Is called Lyn-cay, and according to the account of our companion, covers fifty acres, and is filled with trout of large size and exquisite flavour. Skirting the southern margin of this pool with some difficulty, we picked up, amongst the fragments of rocks, several specimens of fine calcareous spar, and added to our plants the Sedum rupestre, and Narthecium ossifragum; and at. length approached a dark, beetling rock, of shaggy aspeCl and tremendous height, which [ 96 3 stands entirely detached from the neighbourlna cliff. Its real name is Craig-cay, but our guide, with a pardonable vanity, had christened it af ter himself, and assured us It was called Pughe's pinnacle. Here we were delighted with the magical effeCls of a fine echo; a howl, or in deed any other sound delivered loudly and de liberately, is reflected from one surface of the rock to another In several repercussions, at one time very clearly and distinctly heard; then fading away to a distant whisper; and again returning upon the ear as if emitted from a neigh bouring crag. Arriving at the extremity of the pool, we began to ascend the western sum mit of Cader-Idris, a task not only of labour, but of some peril also. It being a different route from that which travellers usually pursue; six hundred feet of steep rock, covered, indeed, with short grass, but so slippery as to render the footing very Insecure. As we approached the top, the ascent became more abrupt, whilst the scene below us, of craggy rocks, perpendi cular precipices, arid an unfathomable lake, did not operate to lessen the alarm that a person, unaccustomed to so dangerous a situation, na turally feels. Our companion the mountaineer skipped on, the mean while, with the agility of [ 97 3 a goat, and whilst C;;^ and I were dumb with terror, descanted on the beauties of Cader- Idris, the excellence of Its mutton, and the de licacy of its trout, as coolly as If he had been in the public-house where we originally found him. At length, after excessive labour, and repeated efforts, we gained the top of this noble mountain, and were at once ariiply recom pensed for all the fatigue and alarm of the as cent. The afternoon was gloriously fine, and the atmosphere perfeCtly clear, so that the vast unbounded prospeCl lay beneath us, unobscured by cloud, vapour, or any other interruption to ' the astonished and delighted eye ; which threw its glance over a varied scene. Including a cir cumference of at least five hundred miles. To the north-west is seen Ireland, like, a distant mist upon the ocean; and a littlcv to the right, Snowdon and the other mountains of Caernarr vonshlre. Further on. In the same direClIon, the Isle of Man, the neighbourhood of Chesterj Wrexham, and Salop; the sharp head of the Wrekin, and the undulating summit ofthe Clee hills. To the south we have the country round Clifton, Pembrokeshire^ St. David's, and Swan sea; and to the westward,, a vast prospeCl of the British Channel unfolds itself, which is H C 98 3 bounded only by the horizon. Exclusive oi these distant objeCls, the nearer views are won derfully striking. Numberless mountains, of different forms, appearances, and elevation, rise in all directions around us; which, with the va rious harbours, lakes and rivers, towns, villages, arid seats, scattered over the extensive prospeCl, combine to form a scene inexpressibly august, diversified, and iiinpresslve. Having refreshed ourselves with the contents of a knapsack car ried by our companion, we proceeded. In an east ern direction, to the Pen-yr-Cader, the highest peak of the mountain, passing on our left the saddle of the giant Idris, (from whom the moun tain receives Its name) an Immense cwm. Its bottom filled with a beautiful lake called Llyn- Cair, and its sides formed by perpendicular cliffs at least looo feet in height. Here we found the Alpine grasses^ the Aira Casfiitosa, and the PoaAljma; beautiful masses of spar, specimens of pyrltse, and a stone much resembling that volcanic substance called pumice-stone. We were now upon the apex of the second moun tain in Wales, In jwjint of height, and 2850 feet above the green, near the neighbouring town of Dolgelly, The air, notwithstanding the rays of an unclouded sun beamed upon us, was pier- [ '©9 3 cinglycold; and as our preceding fatigue had^ produced a profuse, pers^iraltion, we 'qnaickly found'ourselveschillyand-uncomfortable. Ha ving therefore extende^d our walk, half a bile beyond the Pen, and laken a view of two other lakes, Lyn-MuUyn, the Lake of Three Grains, and Lyn-Gawar, or Goat's-pool, we turned about In order to descend the northern side of the mountain. From the rude heap of adventitious stones which form what Is called the bed ofthe giant, for several hundred yards, the mountain wears a singular appearance. Its surface is co vered with a stream of rocky fragments of dif ferent magnitude, and lying In all direClions, their shape for the most part columnar and quadrangular, and many being from three to seven feet In length. All of them bear the marks of attrition, and probably were thrown into their present rude, disjoined situation, by that great convulsion of nature, when " the " fountains of the great deep were broken up, " and the windows of heaven were opened," Having waded througb this £ood of stones, and reached the track that leads to Dolgelly, we parted with our good-humoured, whimsical conduClor, and winded slowly down the northern side of Cader-Idris, after spending six C 100 3 liours amidst its stupendous scenery. We reached the Golden Lion at eight o'clock, and are preparing to refresh ourselves after the se verest fatigue we have yet experienced, Your's, 8cc, R. W. , Beddgelert , Pont-abcr-glas Lynn ^^^ Moclwyn Mountain Tan-y-Bwlch fe.Fe«tlniog Maentwrog;Tra„,fynnydd Jfe^.r.' — ,L ft, Penitreet Chapel Cayn and Mouddach Cascades Pont-ar-garfa JJi.Keroiner Abbey to Bala Dolgelly LETTER VII. TO THE SAME. SEAR SIB, Beddgelert, Aug, igtb. T If 7E rose earlier than usual this morning, ^ after a most comfortless night; during which we had been tormented by fleas, and nearly suffocated by the closeness of a room nine feet by five and a "half, into which were crammed two beds> a table, and a chair. Fa tigue is, indeed, a powerful opiate, and we [ 102 3 dropt asleep notwithstanding all the inconve niences of our situation. Nature, however, took only- as much repose as was absolutely ne- 'Cessary for her restoration, and we were awake and up with the first glimpse of day. We had enquired over-night, whether the service of the church were performed at Dolgelly In Welsh or English, and finding it to be in an unknown tongue, we determined to reach Maentwrog (about twenty mUes distant) as early as possible, ;that we might attend the chapel there In the afternoon; whete, we were told, ItwaS llkelythe lEnglish Liturgy would be read. Having paid pur bill,, therefore, we left Dolgelly at six o'clock, Thesltuation of this place is veryagree- able, watered by the river Onion, and standing in the midst of fertile meadows. It receives some Importance also from being a market for Welsh flannels, which are manufactured in the nerghbouring villages, and brought here to be dispos^ of ^t tbe fairs, of Dolgelly, to the deal- •ers >vho. r,esort hither for the purchase of thetn. The famous Ow^n Glendoweir Goft>ferred no siWi,'^ siigjaity^on this place, by assetnhling his pariiajfesit/ here in the year 1404, when he formediswl alHanse with Chiles king of France. The i^os]^x4i^ State of his affairs al that time C 103 3 is sufficiently obvious, from the language ofthe deed appointing John Hanm^r and Griffith Yonge to be his mmlsters in the business, which runs in this right royal style: — Owinus Deigratid princeps Wallia; and concludes. Datum apud Doleguelli lo die mensis Mali MCCCC quarto et princifiatis nostri quarto.* About a mile from Dolgelly we turned into a narrow lane to the right, in order to take a passing view of the ruined Abbey of Kemmer, a CIstertian monastery dedicated to St. Mary, and founded by an unknown patron about the year 1 200. At the Dissolution it was valued only at 51I. 13s. but it seems probable that its property must have decreased considerably (a circumstance which the ecclesiastics seldom al-^ lowed to take place) prior to that event, as in the year 1231, during the wars between Henry III. and the prince of Wales, the Abbot of Kemmer was content to give the English 300 marks (a very large sum at that period) in or der to save this monastery from conflagration,"!" We were much disappointed when we reached the objeCl of our search; the ruin Is a trifling one, and has nothing in it either beautiful, so- * Pennant, North- Wales. t Tanner, Not. Mon. 71 j. [ 104 3 lemn or piCluresque, The rain now came on very heavily, and, after passing the bridge that crosses the Mouddach, we were glad to take shelter In Llaneltyd turnpike-house, whither we were kindly Invited by its tenant, the man who kept the toll. Not having yet breakfasted, we enquired for an inn where we might be fur nished with this necessary meal, and were an swered by our host, we should be accommo dated at his cottage, and that his daughter would be happy In providing it for us immedi ately. He accordingly called her, and the young Cambrian made her appearance. C and I agreed we had scarcely ever seen a girl more lovely or Interesting. She was tall, and ele gantly shaped; her complexion fair, her large blue eyes beaming kindness and benignity; her flaxen hair flowing In negligent ringlets over her shoulders; her voice musically sweet, and her manners wonderfully soft, and greatly superior to the sphere in which she moved. Prepared by So fair a hand, we ate our breakfast with ad ditional relish; and, whilst we were dispatching some of the best home-made cakes and butter I had ever tasted, our honest host entertained us with his history. His name Is Henry Roberts, and his native country North- Wales. Early in [ 105 3 life he had gone into the army, and, after car rying the musket for many years, retired from the service with some severe wounds, the loss of his right arm, and a Chelsea out-pension. Of late years he had combined several different em ployments together, andT by those means con trived to provide a comfortable subsistence for his wife, his daughter, and himself. By keep ing the turnpike he lived rent free, and received a little annual stipend; during the summer he frequently attended travellers to the falls of the Mouddach, and the top of Cader-Idris ; and his Income was further increased by retailing to the villagers tea, sugar, thread-, and the thousand other little articles which constitute the stock of a chandler's shop. We had finished our breakfast before he had concluded his history, for it was told with all the garrulity of seventy, and all the circumstantiality of an old soldier. However, a^ my companion and mys'elf are not of the number of those who disdain to hear " the simple annals of the poor," we neither hastened nor Interrupted the detail, but listened with all proper attention till he had concluded his adventures. When he was fairly come to a close, we asked him If he would accompany us to the neighbouring cataraCls; this he imme- [ 106 ] diately consented to do; we therefore took leave of our fair attendant, and quitted Llanel tyd turnpike about half past seven o'clock. The first cataraCl to which our guide con ducted us was over Dol-y-Myllyn, situate a little beyond the fifth mile-stone from Dolgelly, near the house of William Madox, esq. Passing through a white gate to the left hand ofthe road, we approached the fall by a path which climbs a pretty steep acclivity, clothed with trees of various kinds, and sprinkled with numerous un common and curious plants. This ascent con tinues the better part of half a mile, when the fall opens itself to the view. We first observed it from above. Here the water appears to throw itself down a perpendicular descent of full forty feet. In two principal sheets, and thrO' some lateral gullies, into an hideous bed of black, -disjoined rocks, through which it strug gles for a few yards, and Is then lost to the spec tator In the surrounding woods. To obtain a view of Its further progress we struck Into a steep and intricate path, which led us to the foot of the cascade, where the scene became much more grand, beautiful, and extensive, than before. An additional fall of twenty-five feet now appears immediately In front; the first ca- C 107 3 taraCl, and the ragged channel into which it discharges Itself, are seen to the left hand; and to the right, perpendicular rocks crowned with noble trees, which throw their broad arms over the glittering waters, and relieve with sober shade their dazzling splendour. Retracing our path through the coppice, we returned into the road, and proceeding along it, were direCled to remark a lofty mountain, which rose immedi ately on the left hand. It Is called the Prince of Wales's mountain, and was formerly the sub- jeCl of much speculation, in the mining way. The veins, however, proved not sufficiently va luable to repay the expences of working them, and were consequently negleCled, We in part ascended It, and colleCJed several good minera- loglcal specimens; such as lumps of lead and copper ore, pieces of spar, micacious stones, and so forth, A curious species of the toad- stone also, which abounds In the neighbourhood of this mountain, and is found in vast masses at the bottom of it, attraCted our attention; it is of a dull greenish colour and cellular, the cham bers filled with a hard substance in appear ance exaClly like good charcoal. Seven mJles from Dolgelly our guide conduCted us over a " bridge, to the right of tha road, called Pont-ar- C 108 3 Garfa, from the river of that name which flows under it. From hence we proceeded nearly two miles on a gradual ascent over a slate moun tain, the dullness of which was soon contrasted by a magnificent and sublime prospeCl. The summit of the hill Tylyn-Gwladys, which we had been ascending, Is opposed to the lofty mountain Cwm-Ysom, and the profound valley of Mouddach at its feet. Through this im mense hollow the two torrents Cayne and Mouddach pour their Irresistible streams; and, though the- deep woods which compleatly clothe the declivities on either side, preclude a view of their troubled waters; yet the roar of their ca taraCls swells upon the gale, and reaches the ear in one continued peal of distant thunder. The solemn sentiments which this circumstance na turally inspires, were exalted and enlivened, as we descended, by the surrounding scenery; the umbrageous and gloomy appearance of the glen, the precipitous declivity of the hills, and the sharp rocky crags which shoot through the verdant clothing of their sides. An Infinite va riety of shrubs and trees planted by the hand of nature, but disposed with the justest taste and happiest effeCl, compleat the beauty of this fairy region; the trembling foliage of the aspen; [ 109 3 Jhe vivid berries of the mountain ash ; and the melancholy shade of the pendent birch, : Our first objeft was the Pistll-y-Cayne, or fall ofthe Cayne; in order to approach which, we passed ««lfeE a rude Alpine bridge, formed ofthe trunk of an oak, thrown from rock to rock, and hanging frightfully over a black torrent that roared many feet beneath It. We descended with some difficulty to the bottom. of the fall. Here the effeCl is very august, A sheet of wa ter is seen' pouring down a rugged declivity, nearly perpendicular, of two hundred feet; the view of it compleat and full, uninterrupted by the adjoining woods, which, though they thickly mantle its sides, do not break by the Interven tion of their branches the continuity of the fall. After tumbling from this stupendous height, the agitated waters are received amongst rocks of a light dun colour, which their perpetual ac tion has excavated Into hollows of alarming profundity and various shapes, and through these they force their course, in order to unite themselves with the Mouddach, a few hundred yards from the spot on which we stood. Whilst we were contemplating this grand example of nature's magnificence, the sun, who had hither to veiled his head in clouds, shone suddenly [ no 3 and full upon the descending sheet of water, and produced an appearance that conveyed no bad Idea of an immense shower of diamonds falling, from an eminence. After some time spent. on this scene, we M'cre led to theiPIstil- y-Mouddach, or fall ofthe Mouddach, which It was necessary for us to view from beneath, as it is impracticable to attain its summit. This ca^ taraCl is of a charaCler compleatly different from any we have before visited. Indeed, we may extend this remark to all the particulars of Welsh scenery; each spot having, as it were, a charaCler peculiar to itself, a circumstance which produces inexhaustible variety, and constant sources of fresh entertainment to the admirer of nature. The PIstil-y-Mouddach consists of three falls, submitted at one view to the eye. The first Is a sheet of water about twenty feet wldcj and nearly as many in height, which tumbles into a deep pool of thirty feet in diameter. From hence It glides over a second ledge, pro ducing, a fall of about thirty feet, into anothei* bason of larger dimensions. Here contracting itself. It is discharged by a third fall of twenty feet into the largest and deepest pOol, over the brim of which it soon boils Into a rude congeries of rocky crags, and foams forward to Its point C 111 3 of junction with the Cayne, affording an ex ample of the accuracy with which the poet of nature has painted this, amongst her other va ried, scenes: — •" Smooth to the shelving brink a copious flood " Rolls fair and placid, -vvhere, coUefted all, " In one impetuous torrent down the steep " It thund'fing shoots, and shakes the country round. " At first an azure sheet, it rushes broad ; " Then whitening by degrees as prone It falls, " And from the loud-resounding rocks below "¦ Dash'd in a cloud of foam, it sends aloft " A hoary mist, and forms a ceaseless shower. " Nor can the tortur'd wave here find repose, " But raging still amid the shaggy rocks, 'f Now flashes o'er the scatter'd fragments, now " Aslant the hollow'd channel rapid darts, '* And falling fast from gradual slope to slope, " With wild infrafted course and lessen'd roar, " It gains a safer' bed, and steals at last " Along the mazes of the quiet vale." Thomson's Summer. On either ^ide of this fall the mountains rise abruptly to the height of 7 or 800 feet, dark ened by the shade of deep woods, but occasi onally shewing the white face ofthe rock. This is more especially the case with one steep, which jhas occasioned it to be called Gwin-Mynnydd, C 112 3 or the white mountain. Our galde having con duCled us through the intricacies of the wood, placed us In an open country, and given us di reClions for our progress, took his leave and re turned to Llaneltyd. The day. In the mean time, was again become dark, wet, and uncom fortable, and heightened the desolation and gloom of a barren, mountainous country. In which not a single interesting objeCl occurred, either natural or artificial, to relieve or enli ven the dolorous monotony of the scene. After having consumed an hour in this way, we saw before us a solitary building, which appeared to be a long, low cottage. On our approach to wards it, we were suddenly surprised by the notes of harmony; " A solemn-breathing sound " Rose like a steam of rich distlll'd perfumes, " And stole upon the air ; that even Silence " Was took 'ere she was 'ware, and wish'd she might *' Deny her nature, and be never more, " Still to be so displac'd." We listened attentively, and were delighted with the melody, which was as striking as un expected. It seemed to be a religious hymn, . sung by a great number of voices, for the most part sweet and harmonious. Solemn and simple. [ 113 ] It was not, like our church-music, interrupted by pauses at the conclusion of each hue and stanza, but continued, and without a break; varied only by fine swells and dying falls, and the regular observation of the piano and the forte. We drew near to the building, and per ceiving we occaisloned no disturbance, joined ourselves to the congregation. The scene was a striking and a pleasing one. A number of people, who must have come from far, neat in their dress, devout in their manner, were col lected together in a hovel upon a barren moun tain, to sing the psalm of thanksgiving, to breathe the prayer of simplicity, and to worship their Maker in ' spirit and in truth ;' the pastor, an el derly man of respeClable appearance, unaffeCled in his manner, fervent in his petitions, solemn, impressive, and energetic m his ejaculations! Such was the scene which this cottage exhi bited. And neither C nor myself were insensible to Its influence. Their divine har mony penetrated our souls; and though unac quainted with the language in which their thanksgivings were conveyed, we lifted np our thoughts to heaven with a devotion of mind which we trust the Being who knows all hearts, and who marks each secret aspiration of them [ 114 3 for his favour, will accept. In lieu of our custo mary mode of social worship on this day, which we were prevented from jolningin by the cir cumstances of our situation. When the service ¦was concluded, we made some enquiries rela— tive to the place, the preacher, and the seCl to which he belonged. Our curiosity was satis fied by the female Inhabitant of a little cottage attached to one end of the chapel, who spoke extremely good English, and exhibited a perfeCl pattern of neatness and simplicity. From her we understood the hamlet was called Penstreet, appropriated to a congregation of Presbyterians, who assembled here every Sunday, and were In struCled by the Rev. Mr. Wm. Jones, a man of great respeCtabihty and exemplary charaCler. Nothing, perhaps, can afford a stronger or more agreeable instance of that religious spirit which prevails amongst the lower orders of Welsh, than the circumstance I have just re lated to you; — a congregation collecting toge ther at a chapel situated in a wild, mountainous country, and considerably distant from the nearest habitation, and that too in defiance of the rain and the wind, which had fallen and blown through all the morning with little inter mission. To this religious spirit, indeed, may C 11-5 3 be attributed that humanity, courtesy, and de cency, which the Welsh possess in so superior a degree to the English canaille; for It is a truth which candour and observation will readily al low, that the only foundation for good morals and decent conduCl, at least amongst the lower orders, is a principle of religion, a knowledge of the duties it teaches, and a sense of their ob ligation to perform them, as rational and ac countable beings. The waning day was very unfavourable for the delicious prospeCl which opened upon us about a mile from Tan-y-Bwlch. Here the beautiful vale of Festlnlog spread Itself to the eye, comprehending every objeCl that can en rich or diversify a landscape, Noble mountains rising on every side, some thickly mantled with wood, others lifting their bare, rocky heads into the clouds. A meandring river rolling through extensive meads, which its fertilizing waters clothe with constant verdure. The pic turesque chapel and neat cottages of Maen twrog, occupying the centre of the vale; and the elegant seat of Mr. Oakley, called Tan-y- Bwlch hall, with Its noble woods decorating the declivity of a mountain on the northern side,', Here, for the first time since we have C 116 3 been In North- Wales, we were gratified in see ing the spirit of agricultural improvement ex erted to some extent, and with considerably good efteCl, The vale of Festlnlog consists in general of a soil rather mossy and spungy, the consequence of having formerly been always overflowed at spring tides. Aware of the in jury which these inundations occasioned to the land, Mr. Oakley determined to prevent them by embankments. Having effeCled this, he next turned his attention to draining the ground thus secured, which he did so effectually as to render its produce just triple to what It hitherto had been. His large drains and neat embank ments rather adorn than injurfe the piClure; as the former are like small canals, and the latter have the appearance of raised terrace walks, surmounted with a neat white rail. We were now extremely wet, and very well inclined to seat ourselves by a comfortable fire side; you will therefore imagine our disap pointment, when the host of Tan-y-Bwlch Inn toM us we could neither be provided with a din ner, nor accommodated with beds at his house. There is a mode, you know, of imparting un pleasant intelligence, which, if it do not lessen the evil told, leaves us at least in good-humour [ 117 3 with the person who tells it. The landlord of Tan-y-Bwlch inn, however, was either unac quainted with this art of softening the disagree able, or at least did not chuse to exercise it; for he communicated his information In a manner so ungracious, as to fix an indelible impression on our minds of his being a very surly fellow. It was now six o'clock in the evening, and we had eight miles to walk over the wildest and most desolate road In all Wales. We therefore quickened our pace, and wound up the moun» tains that overlook the vale of Festlnlog to the north. Nothing can exceed the desolation and rudeness of the scene for the first five or six miles. Bare rocks, and fragments of mountains, divested of tree or shrubj are thrown about in the wildest confusion. No vestige of a dwell ing, no trace of human society occurs. It wears the appearance of a country shaken and overturned by the powerful operation of inter nal convulsions, and from which all animated nature has fled dispersed and alarmed. A thick mist, which occasionally involved us,, added to the effeCl of the scene, and allowed the fancy to indulge in all the reveries of imaginary hor ror. The only relief we had to this lengthened gloom, was a prospeCt which opened Jo the [ 118 3 left, on our gaining an elevation at the fourth mile-stone; 'the fog at the same time clearing away, and allowing us to enjoy it. Here we caught the Traeth Bach, (the mouth ofthe river Dwy'ryd that waters Festlniog) Cardigan Bay, and the ocean beyond It; the town of Bar mouth; the ruins of Harlech Castle; the lofty summit of the solitary Penmorfa; and the pointed heads of other maritime mountains'. This variation of scene, howevier. Was but of short duration ; the roa;d again descended, and led us once more Into the same heap of natural ruins as before. ¦ At length we were gratified with the sight of Pont-aber-glas-Lyn (the bridge of the harbour of the blue lake) which we had been anxiously expeClIng to reach for some time. It is a single arch, built over a rapid mountain torrent that divides the two counties of Merioneth and Caernarvon. The features of this romantic spot are well pourtrayed by Mr, Wyndham, [Tot^r, p. 125.] of whose description I shall avail myself, as it is probable my own pencil would not afford you so true a likeness: " Here we paused," says he, "while the " grandeur of the scene before us implressed a " silent admiration on our senses. We, at " length, moved slowly onwards, contempl% [ 119 3 " ting the Wonderful chasm. An impending " craggy chff, at least 800 feet high, projeCts, ", from every part of its broken front, stupend- " ous rocks of the most capricious forms, and " shadows a broad translucid torrent, which '* rages like a cataraCl amid the huge ruins " fallen from the mountain. " On the 'opposite declivity, the disjointed " fragments, crushing their mouldering props, " seem scarcely prevented from overwhelming " the narrow ridge, which forms the toad on " the brink of the flOod, " The excentric and romantic imagination " of Salvator Rosa was never fired with a more " tremendous idea, nor has his pencil ever pro- " duced a bolder precipice, " The bridge of Aberglaslyn conneCls two "perpendicular precipices with a semicircular " arch of stone, the diameter of which is thirty " feet, and the crown of the arch Is forty feet " above the water level. Just above it, th^ " whole river falls down a craggy break, of the " height of about twelve feet. This is called " the Salmon Leap, and our attention was many " times diverted from the majestic scenery " around us, by the dexterity of the salmons " leaping over it. The fishery here is very an- [ 120 3 " cient, and. In the history of the Gwider fa- " mily. Is called the King's Weare; It is men- " tioned by that title In some old records of the " time of Henry IV." C and I waited on the bridge for a con siderable time, in order to see the fish perform the feat of agility above described; only two, however, attempted It, and neither of them with success. Indeed, we had heard from a gentleman whom we met at the DevIl's-Brldge, that the objeCl of this leap is seldom effeCled.- He had continued some hours on the bridge, during which time nearly seven-score fish en deavoured to throw themselves up the fall, but not one in twenty appeared to succeed. We looked Into the level of the copper-mine penetrating the left hand mountain, which be longs toSir W.W.Wynne, and Is said to produce purer ore than the Paris mine; and then pur sued our walk along a road that runs under an immense precipice, nearly perpendicular, pa^ rallel with the torrent Colwyn, This conduCled us to Beddgelert, a village at the foot of Snow don, where civil treatment, good accommoda tion, and comfortable cheer, have made amends for all the inconvenience and disappointment of the past day. Your's, 8cc. R. W. Mcnai Strait Lyn-y 'din as " LETTER VIII. TO THE SAME. BEAR SIR, Caernarvon, Aug. 21st, ONE great objeCl of our expedition was, you know, to traverse Snowdon and its de pendencies; to visit the summit ofthe highest mountain in the three kingdoms. We were therefore much disappointed on being informed this morning by the guide, who lives at the vil lage inn during the summer in the capacity of C 122 3 waiter, that the day was unfavourable for our attempt, the head of the mountain being in volved in Impenetrable mist. It was vain to, lament what could not be remedied; we there fore determined to make the best of a misfor tune, and Spend the day In visiting some other magnificent scenery, which would have been incompatible with our expedition to the top of Snowdon. We accordingly agreed with the guide, William Lloyd, an Intelligent man, to accompany us a few miles, and quitted our quarters about nine o'clock. Our road con- , duCled us along the bank of the little river Wu (the ancient Welsh name for water) which flowed on our right hand, to the beautiful pool of Llyn-y-dlnas, stretching a mile and half In length ; the dark-brown mountains Arran [stone] and Lliweddy, rising to a stupendous height on the left. Here our guide direCled us to turn round, and observe an huge perpendicular rocky mountain, finely shaded with wood, which we had left behind. He told us It was called Dinas-Emris, and received its name from the famous old British magician Merlin, or Merddin Emries, who, seated on Its cloud-capt head, had formerly prophesied to the unfortunate Vorti- gern all the evils which afterwards befel him- C 123i ] self, his kingdom, and his degenerate subjeCls.* The summit of Snowdbn, towering above' us to the north, had hithertO' been Involved in a fleecy ¦ cloud, which hung around it in the manner of a curtain, undulating with the wind. This now appeared to be drawn up higher than It had' yet been; and to rest like a crown on the' very point ofthe mountain. Our guide having at tentively regarded It for some time; gave It as his opinion that we should have an opportunity of prosecuting our original plan, the misty man tle being likely to melt away altogether before the sun, which was now approaching towards his meridian. He observed, however, at the same 'time, that should we determine to visit the top of Snowdon, we should find the aScent from the point where we stood to b^ much more steep and disagreeable than the regular road would have been from the inn at 'Which we had slept; that, notwithstanding, it was a practicable way, and had been trodden hy sopie travellers before us. We Inkantly resolved on attempting the ascent^ and having, by his ad vice j* swallowed a draught of milk at a neigh- « Mr.'Pennant In his Snowdonia, p, 17J, has' given the legend of DinasEmris ''at', length, -¦ .-'-.)' -Hi '¦¦ ' '- ¦• [ 124 3 bouring cottage, and replenished our " leathern bottels" with some of the same beverage, we began the toilsome undertaking. The first stage of our journey was up a rugged steep, by the side of a mountain torrent, which, falling from ledge to ledge, stunned us with Its uncea sing noise. The principal branch of the Arran, little inferior to his mighty neighbour, heaved his unwieldly bulk Into the clouds on the right hand, under which a frightful hollow, called Cwm-Llan, spread its hideous profundity, stretching a mile and half in length, and nearly as much in breadth, a precipice of Snowdon forming one of Its black perpendicular sides. While we contemplated this scene with marks of astonishment and dread, the guide related an anecdote to us, which was no bad satire upon the impressions of alarm that C and myself felt in this aerial situation. He told us, the farm we had passed In the bottom was called Llan farm, and had been occupied, till within these few years, by Mr. William Griffiths, the father ofthe present tenant. That the old man attended constantly the market of Caernarvon, and In order to avoid a route rather circuitous by the turnpike-road, he constantly crossed the mountain by the track which we had pur- C 125 3 sued, mounted on a little poney of the coun try, that crawled up with him through'the crags, and bogs, and steeps of this side, and descended on the other by a road equally rude, abrupt, and rocky. That day or night, light or dark ness made no alteration in his system, which he pursued for many years without experiencing injury or accident. It may be properly ob served, however, that in this perilous expedi tion he was more indebted to his horse than to himself for safety; and Indeed, nothing but ac tual observation can give a just idea of that pure-footedness and caution which the little Welsh ponies possess ; that faculty of mounting acclivities, and descending steeps, through frag ments of rock, and other obstructions, that ap pear to render the mountain paths impassable. After two hours of very severe labour we gained the summit of Snowdon,* (a sharp narrow crag of rock, not more than two yards over) and * The ancient name of Snowdon was Erjirri, or Eagle, from its Stupehdous crags being occasionally visited by that bird. Its tughest pen is called Wyddfa, or the conspicuous. The origin of the English appellation is obvious; the sharp air of the mountain occasioning the snow to lie a long time on its summit, frequently till the middle of June. Such was the information of our guide; but, on consulting 'Mr. Pennant, I find he gives the ancient name idifferen.tly,Crsig-w'rjE?r<», the snowy.mountains.— Snowdonia, 171, [ 126 3 stood 3568 feet above the level of Caernarvon quay. Our toil, however, seemed at first to be but 111 repaid ; a crown of clouds still co vered the top, and we remained Involved in a mist that produced the most intense cold. We now produced our bottles of milk, which we found very grateful and refreshing, but regretted at the same time that we had not some stronger cordial. Our guide, Indeed, soon reconciled us to the absence of any powerful liquors, by as suring us they were more productive of danger than comfort ; as a very small quantity of them In these etherial regions was sufficient to Intoxi cate. He mentioned his having nearly fallen from one of the precipices himself, in conse quence of drinking a glass of brandy; and that during the preceding summer, one of a party of London gentlemen had been so affeCled by the same quantity, taken on the summit of Snowdon, that he aClually got a severe tumble, which, though not fatal, produced some pain ful bruises. I mention this circumstance as a caution to you, should you visit these aerial heights. The guides, in general, make a point of recommending a quantity of spirits to be car ried up, as an antidote against the effeCls of a raw and chilly atmosphere, but in reality, not [ 127 3 so much with a view to comfort the traveller, as to indulge that propensity in themselves for strong liquors, so common amongst the lower orders of people, A bottle of milk and water, however, with a small portion of brandy in It, will be found to be much more refreshing and agreeable, than undiluted spirits, and not likely to be attended with the unpleasant effeCls that an Incautious use of them may produce. In this truly hyperborean climate we waited half an hour, at the instigation of our guide, who assured us the cloud would shortly leave the head of the mountain; " Vix ea fatus erat, quum circumfusa repente " Scindit se nubes, et in sethera pergat apertum." The mist gradually sailed away, and left us to contemplate for a few minutes, a wide, un bounded prospeCl, diversified with mountains, and vallies, cities, lakes, and oceans. It was not, however, dissimilar to the view from Cader- Idris, except that the WIcklow rocks, the bold opposing cliffs of Ireland, were more distinctly seen, and the little Isle of Man made a more conspicuous figure. We were not long indulged with this free, uninterrupted gaze ; the cloud ; again came rolling on from the ocean, and once [ 128 3 more infolded us in its chilly embrace. The covering soon became thicker and darker than' hitherto, and our guide warned us to descend with all expedition, lest we should be Involved in a storm amid these exposed unsheltered re gions. We accordingly proceeded through the gloom, following the steps of our conduClor, who walked immediately before us, as we literally could not see the distance of a dozen feet. The situation was new to us, and brought to our recoUeClion, the noble passage with which a prophecy of Joel magnificently opens : " A " day of darkness and of gloominess, a day of " clouds and of thick darkness, as the morning " spread upon the mountains;" it produced however, an effeCl that was very sublime. Oc casional gusts of wind, " which now roared around us, swept away for a moment, the pitchy cloud that involved particular spots ofthe moun tain, and discovered immediately below us, huge rocks, abrupt precipices, and profound hollows, exciting emotions of astonishment and awe In the mind, which the eye, darting down an im mense descent of vacuity and horror, conveyed to It under the dreadful image of inevitable de struction. At the conclusion of another hour we congratulated each other on having reached C 129 3 the bottom of this noble mountain, after seeing it In all Its beauty, and all Its sublimity, and ga thering from its sides some fine specimens of calcareous spar, pyritae, and mountain crystal. Our guide now left us, and we proceeded to wards Dolbadern Castle, which, with the lake Llanberrls, came within the Intended scheme of our day's observations. After walking, or rather stumWing, over masses of rock for two hours, we reached a cot tage situated amidst some coarse meadows, the sparing produce of which the labourers were at this late period getting in. Uncertain what direction to pursue to Dolbadern Castle, we en quired of a woman who stood at the cottage gate, but received no other answer, than an inti mation that she did not speak Engllsk After all the expressive gesticulations we could think of, and pronouncing the name of the place with every possible variation of accent, we made her comprehend our meaning; and she ordered her daughter, a girl about twelve years old, to di reCt us to Castel Dolbathren. Our little guide tripping on before us like a lapwing, and with out the Incumbrance of shoe or stocking, led us over rocks and bogs for about two miles, when we found ourselves on the margin of the lake K C 130 3 Llanberris, and near the old fortress of Dolba dern. This piece of water is divided by a small field, through which, however, there is a com- miinicatlon by means of a narrow stream,iIntQ two lakes, the northern one being the larger, and stretching nearly three miles In length; tl^e latter called, after the castle, lake Dolbadern, and measuring little more than one. Upon the summit of a hill rising at the southern extremity of lake Llanberrls stand the ruins of Dolbadern Castle, forming a good accompaniment to the rude and desolate scenery that surrounds It. The only remains of the original fortress con sist of the foundations ofthe exterior buildings, and the greater part of the citadel or keep. This is a circular building, thirty feet In diame ter, containing four apartments, the dungeon at the bottom, and three others In succession over it, the ascent to which Is by spiral stair cases. By whom it was ereCled does not ap^ pear, though it certainly belonged tq the anci ent Welsh princes, and is consequently of high antiquity, Owen Goch, the unsuccessful rebel, and opponent of his brother Llewellyn, being taken prisoner by the prince, languished twenty years within its walls ; and in the long contest whichOwpn Glendower maintained with Henry [ 131 ] IV- and his son, Dolbadern Castle was occasi onally In the possession of each party, and con sidered as an important defence to the Interior ' of Snowdon. It is constructed of the schistus ofthe country., and though of small extent, is well situated, and was originally very strong. On the declivity of the mountain. Immediately facing the castle, are considerable quarries of a fine purple slate, the property of Lord Penrhyn, which is conveyed from hence by water to the exT:remity of lake Llanberris, and afterwards by land-carriage to Caernarvon quay, where it is shipt off for various parts. In the same neigh bourhood also Is a valuable copper-mine, con sisting of four or five levels, penetrating the mountain to various depths. The ore, which is extremely rich, but not procured In any con siderable quantity, is sent to Caernarvon by a similar conveyance with the slate. Having gratified our curiosity at this spot, we dismissed our conduClress with a reward for her trouble, and turned into a regular road, which led to Caernarvon, and was the first we had seen In the course of the day. Like all the other mountain roads, however, ^ it consisted entirely Of large loose stones, and pointed, solid rock, not a little incoram.odious to pedestrians who [ 132 ] had already followed the undulations of this hilly country for twenty miles. Another hour brought us to the river Ryddell, which flows from the northern extremity of Llanberrls lakcj and pursues a winding course to Caernarvon, We crossed it by means of a stone bridge; rude In appearance, and unworkmanlike In con struction, but which (from the following tablet in Its centre) should seem to have been consi dered as a noble specimen of art — at least ,by the rare genius that built it: Harry Parry, the modern Inigo, ereCled this bridge An. DnI. 1 7 — . The day now drew towards a close, and th^ unclouded sun, sinking gradually to the ocean, produced a magic scene, which nature only ex hibits in countries where she prints her boldest characters. A fine fleecy cloud was drawn around the mountains we had left, and curtained inks embrace nearly half their height. On this, the declining orb of day threw Its rich, depart ing radiance, and displayed an illumination that neither pencil nor pen can imitate or describe: the misty covering of the mountains every mo ment varied its tint : It now assumed the ap pearance of a fleece of azure ; the next minute it brightened into a rich golden colour; shortly afterwards, it took a deeper yellow. As the I 133 3 sun approached 'the wave, its tinge changed successively to a brilliant red, and solemn pur ple, and at length,' when he sunk from the hori zon, it became gradually colourless and dark. The effeCl was further heightened by the varia tion which the cloud exhibited in its form-. For a short time it vv^ould confine itself to the higher regions ofthe mountains; then sinking- consi derably,' would nearly encircle their base; and agairi rising and condensing Itself, it hu'^gupoti their summits like a crown of glory-. The pic ture on the opposite side Was equally beautiful and grand. The solemn turrets of Caernarvon Castle, contrasted with the gay scenery of ships and villas in Its neighbourhood, formed the fore ground; to the left appeared the dark preci pices of the Rivals, three mountains of great bulk, and immense height, which were now in the shade; and beyond them, the ocean, gli- tering with the rays of the departing sun, stretched as far as the vision extended. No thing could exceed the glory of his setting; as he approached the waves, his radiance became more tolerable, and his form more distinCl, ex hibiting the appearance of an immense ball of fire. When he reached the ocean, he seemed to rest upOn it, as upon a throne, for a moment. C 134 3 and then buried his splendid rotundity in its waters; reminding us of that beautiful apos trophe to the orb of light, and sublime descrip tion. In the father of Erse poetry: — " Hast thou left thy blue course In heaven, " golden-haired son of the sky! The west has " opened its gates; the bed of thy repose is " there. The waves come to behold thy beauty. " They lift their trembling heads. They see " thee lovely In thy sleep; they shrink away " with fear. Rest in thy shadowy cave, O sun! " Let thy return be with joy." Indulging those , sentiments of v^onder and delight which this new and glorious scene had excited In us, we walked slowly on, in silent meditation, to Caernarvon, which we reached ¦at nine: o'clock, and reposed ourselves at the King's-Head inn. Your's, &c. R. W. H Great Oimes- ,^ Head t Caernarvon LETTER IX. TO THE SAME. SEAR SIR, Conway, Aug. 22d. "jVfO man can justly estimate the value of a -*¦ ^ good bed, unless he have experienced the discomfort of a very bad one. C and I were alive to this enjoyment last night, for du ring the preceding loo miles, our nodurnal accommodation has been far from tolerable. [ 136 ] This circumstance, indeed, Is the only draw back on the pleasure of a Welsh tour; if the country could but boast good beds, Wales would be a paradise. Having much to do, we rose early, and dis patching an excellent breakfast, sallied into the town, which we had not been able to survey on the preceding evening, Caernarvon rose on the ruins of the ancient Roman Segontium, but dates the origin of Its splendour from the time of Edward I. The English monarch, having conquered the North- Walllans, enlarged the town of Caernarvon, , and strenghtened It with a superb and extensive castle, in order to awe Into subjeCtlOn a fierce people, ardently attached to liberty, who wore the yoke of a foreign master with disgust and impatience. The disagreeable obligation of forging chains for themselves, was Imposed on the people of Wales; the peasantry being em ployed in building the castle, and the chieftains required to defray the expences of it. In the course of one year it was begun and finished, and Elinor, the faithful partner of Edward, gave a young prince to the ancient Britons in one of its apartments, on the 25th of April in the year succeeding its cgmpletion. C 137 3 The castle of Caernarvon is unquestionably a fine specimen of ancient military architeClure, but it does not produce those lively emotions in the mind, which edifices of this nature are apt to excite, from the circumstance of its being kept In nice repair, and Inhabited, The idea of Its high antiquity and ancient splendour is in terrupted and destroyed by the patchwork of modern reparation, and the littlenesses of a cot tager's domestic oeconomy seen within its walls. Exclusive of this, it wants the fine circumstance of a mantle of ivy to relieve, and soften down the displeasing red tinge which It receives from the stone used In ereClIng It. Its tOwers are certainly very beautiful, being polygonal, and surmounted with light and elegant turrets. The great entrance is equally striking, a lofty gateway under a stupendous tower. In the front of which appears a gigantic statue of the Con queror, grasping in his right hand a dagger. The town is neat and cheerful, and not destitute of good houses. One vety large and ancient edifice attraCted our attention ; it Is called the Plas Mawr, or great house, and appears to have been the residence of the Lord of the Manor. Two dates. In conspicuous plates, notify that' it was built during the years 1590 and 1591 ; andj [ 138 3 indeed, it affords a good specimen of the auk ward style of architeClure of that time, which was neither Gothic nor classical, but an hetero geneous mixture of both. We quitted Caernarvon about nine o'clock, and pursued the turnpike-road to Bangor, the view from which, on either side, is equally striking, though entirely different. On the right we had the grand mountain scenes which I have before described; on the left, the beauti ful strait called the Menai, separating Anglesey from Wales, ^id beyond It the ancient seat of Druldical superstition, smiling nOw with culti vation, and its shore decorated with elegant villas: Plas Newydd, the fine seat of Lord Ux bridge; Baron Hill, the residence of Lord Bulkley; and many others; the ocean, bounded only by the sky, finishing the scene. It was a morning of Ossian, and gave the varied view In all its beauty. " Morning returned In joy. The " mountains shewed their grey heads; the blue " face of ocean smiled. The white wave is " seen tumbling round the distant rock." This agreeable prospeCt continued for five miles, when the Menai, making a sudden sweep to the northyvard, disappeared for a time. The loss, however> was recompensed by some magaifi- C 139 3 cent additions to the piClure, such as the craggy head Of the enormous Pen-maen-maur, the huge peninsula of the two Ormes; and the steep, cir cular Island>of Priestholme, or Puffin's islandi The neat little town of Bangor also, and its , surrounding romantic scenery, produced a plea sing effeCl in the bottom to which we descended. An extremely neat Inn, the sign of the Three Eagles, tempted us to' refresh ourselves with some of the excellent porter which a board over the door notified might be found within. We.reqiiested a tankard of it, therefore, and* whUst quaffing , ItS; refreshing stream, learnt from ,Mr. Hutchings, the intelligent master of the house, many particulars relative to the town and nelghbo.uj-hood, , After a rest of half an hour, we strolled into the church-y-ard, and sur veyed the cathedral. It Is a small, lowhuild- ing, of no great antiquity, ereCled by Bishop Skeffington, In the early part of the sixteenth century. The munificence of the present pre late has, at a great expence, put It into com pleat repair, and fitted it up in a style of the most commendable neatness and simplicity. He has also established a regulation with res ted, to the service in the cathedral, that accom modates both the Welsh and E(Higli]^,;,by hih [140 3 ving the offices performed during the forenoon in one langiiage, and in the afternoon in the other. The episcopal palace is immediately behind the cathedral, and the deanery at its western end; both humble, unostentatious man sions, and suitable to the scenery around, which is quiet, peaceful, and highly piCluresque, The beauty, retirement, and repose of the whole pleased us wonderfully, and C observed, that If he were B p of Bangor the only translation he Should covet would be from thence to Heaven! I could not but agree with him, that were fate to throw me also into suth a spot, very few attractions would have sufficient force to elicit me from it; I should quit the " madding croud" without a sigh, and say, in the language of philosophic pensiveness, " Here let Time's creeping -winter shed " His hoary snov7 around my head; " And -while I feel by fast degrees, " My sluggard blood wax chill and freeze, " Let thought unveil to my fix'd eye " The scenes of deep eternity : " Till, life dissolving at the view, " I wake, and find the vision true." Bangor, you know. Is the scite ofthe ancient Roman station Bovium; and many evidences [ 141 3 of its being so have been discovered at differ ent times, such as coins, fibula, &c. In the Saxon period It was no less remarkable, as con taining the most populous monastery, perhaps, In the world, .Under the British princes from the fourth to the seventh century, the monas tery of Bangor consisted of between two and three thousand monks, who passed their hours In manual labour, and the offices of devotion. With the true independent spirit of ancient Britons, they strenuously withstood the usurp ation of the church of Rome, under Its missi*- onary Augustine, and resisted the imposition of all foreign rites. The Saint could not brook this contumelious obstinacy, and threatened the Monks with his vengeance. Nor were his me naces vain. He shortly after Instigated Edilfred, the Saxon king of Northumberland, to invade the kingdom of Powis, of which Bangor formed a part. Brocmall Yscitroc, Its prince, raised an army to repel him, and ordered. 1200 of the Bangorian Monks, to ascend a hill, in sight of the armies, and offer up their prayers for his success during the engagement. These, how ever, were ineffectual, and Edilfred, after rout ing the British army, and murdering their use less auxiliaries, proceeded to the monastery, [ 142 3 razed It to the ground, and massacred all its unresisting inhabitants.* The town of Bangor, though small, is neat and clean, and watered by " Deva's wizard " stream," which flows under an elegant bridge of five arches. This river springs from the foot of the mountain Rauranvaur In Merionethshire, and discJharges itself into the Irish sea at Ches ter, after a long and circuitous course. It is famous In British song, and British story; the fruitful father of superstition, the scene of ma gic, and of omens. Many wonders were attri buted to it, on account of its anciently dividing the principality of Wales from England; and tra dition asserted that it frequently varied Its fords, previous to any change befalling either country. Thus sang Drayton the topographical poet: " Again Dee's holiness began " By his contradted front and sterner -waves to she-w, " That he had things to .speak that profit them to know: " A brook tliat was suppos'd much business to have seen, " Which had an ancient bound 'twixt Wales and Eng- " land been, " And noted was by both- to be an oraioQus flood, ". That changing of his fords, the future Dl or good " Of either country told; of either*s war or peace; <* The sickness or the health, the dearth or the increSfe." PoLYatBioN, Song 3d. » Bede's Ecc. Hist. I, ii. C 143 3 And Spenser has made its source the scene of :6nference between the magician Merlin and old Timon: — " Underthe foote of Rauran mossy hore, " From whence the river Dee, as silver cleene, " His tpmbling billows rolls with gentle rore." Faerie Queene, i. ix. We left Bangor with strong Impressions in its favour, having never seen a place which united so many beauties In so narrow a circle; the sublime mountains of Caernarvonshire at a short distance from it; the piCluresque scenery of Its • , , , own immediate neighbourhood; and the ocean spreading its broad bosom within two miles of the town. Add to this, also, the important cir cumstance of its being one of the cheapest towns in the three kingdoms, and few others. will appear to be so inviting and desirable for a residence as Bangor. Pursuing the turnpike-road to Conway for three miles, we turned Into the park of Penrhyn Castle, the noble seat of the peer of that title. It is an ancient edifice, but hasof late years un dergone a thorough reparation, under the di rection of the judicious Wyat, who, with his Usual taste and sci^n-ce, has preserved in hisim- [144 3 provements, the characteristic style of the mi litary Gothic. About a mile to the south ofthe castle, on an elevation that overlooks the river Ogwen, stands the little church of Llandegai, built probably about the time of Edward III. The structure Is Gothic, exaClly cruciform, with a tower In the centre, and exhibits the smallest and neatest example of that figure 1 ever saw. On the south side of the altar is a large and highly-ornamented alabaster tomb, on the flat slab of which recline the figures of an armed knight and his lady, the latter In the dress of the fourteenth century, their feet resting on a lamb. We soon approached the enormous promon tory Pen-maen-maur, and began to wind up Its awful side. The road over this rocky mountain, which was formerly extremely rude and dan gerous, has for some years since, under the au thority of Parliament and the direCtlon of Mr. Silvester, been entirely altered, and divested of a considerable degree of Its horror. Still, how ever. It cannot be travelled without shuddering. Creeping round the side of the mountain, it hangs as it were In the mid-air, with a frown ing precipice above, and a steep descent Imme diately under it. The rocks on the right are [ 145 ] nearly, perpendicular, sometimes beetling over the road In a terrific manner, at others retiring into deep declivities of 900 or 1000 feet in height; from whose ragged sides projeCl frag ments of Incalculable magnitude, so capriciously placed, and having such a disjoined appearance, that it is Impossible for the traveller to lose the perpetual dread of his being eveVy moment crushed to atoms under a torrent of huge stones. This danger, indeed, can never be entirely re moved, as the united exertions of all the work men in the world could never clear the face of the mountain from these Innumerable masses. A lapse of this kind had happened a day or two before our passing the road, which would in evitably have swept us Into the ocean, had we been within the sphere of Its violence. Several workmen were employed In repairing the breach it had occasioned In the wall that runs along the edge of the precipice at the left hand of the road, and from the devastation It had there made, we saw awful proofs of its magni tude and force. Some singular accidents whioh occurred on the road, previous to the judicious alteration of It In 1772, are preserved In the recoUeClion of the neighbourhood. The following is the most [ 146 3 extraordinary one, which I give you on the au thority of a most entertaining traveller, an ex cellent naturalist, and amiable man, who men tions it as a tradition firmly credited in the parish where it happened: — " Above a century ago, Sion Humphries, of " this parish, had made his addresses to Ann " Thomas, of Creyddyn, on the other side of " Conway river. They had made an appolnt- ^' ment to meet at a fair In the town of Conway. " He, In his way, fell over Pen-maen-mawr; " she was overset in the ferry-boat, and was the " only person saved out of more than fourscore, " They were married, and lived very long to- " gether in the parish of Llanvalr. She was " burled April nth, 1744^ aged 116; he sur- " vived her five years, and was buried Dec, " loth, 1749, close by her in the parish church- " yard, where their graves are familiarly shewn «' to this day."* The road from hence to Conway is a long descent, through which we have a continued scene of rock and mountain, till within a mile of the town, • when, by a sudden turn to the right, we gain a view of that. Its nelghbour- * Pennant's Wales, 305. C 147 3 hood, and the most sublime ruin in the king dom, its magnificent castle. We reached this place at eight o'clock, and proceeded to the sign of the Bull. At first, we found some little symptoms of false shame on entering a respeCt able Inn &i pedestrians, but the attention of the people soon convinced us, we were lowly only jn our own eyes ; and we since find they are accustomed to entertain travellers like ourselves, who prefer walking through this mountainous country to any other mode of seeing It. Since our arrival here every thing has pleased us. There Is one circumstance, indeed, which im mediately puts the traveller in a good humour with all that he meets with at a Welsh Inn; It is the attendance of females, whom, hitherto, we have Invariably found as waiters,, Instead of men. Exclusive of the pleasure one naturally feels from the presence of female beauty, there Is also a minute attention and kindness In the manners of women, which give weight to the ' most trivial offices they perform for one, and add the force of an obligation even to a com mon aCl of servitude. The two girls who attend us here, are as beautiful as Houris, and by their cheerfulness and simplicity give an additional relish to the ^ dainties spon- [ 148 3 taneously provided for us by our hospitable landlady.* We were no sooner arrived at our present quarters, than a young man entered our apart ment, and requested to know whether we would wish to hear the harp, C and-I were elec trified at the word. Hitherto we had not met with one of these national Instruments, and Conway was, of all places, the spot where we should hear its fine tones with best effeCl. The idea of the ancient bards, who animated the hero to the fight, and eternized his fame by their songs, rushed into our minds; " Vos quoque qui fortes animas belloque peremptas '^ Laudibus in longum vates demittis in aevum, " Plurima securi fudistis parmina bardi." LucAN, Phak. i. And we recolleCled that the neighbourhood of this place w^as the scene which a modern poet had chosen for a most sublime description of one of the same Important order of men in later times: — " On a rock, whose haughty brow " Frowns o'er old Conway's foaming flood, * The ancient Celts, the ancestors of the Welsh, were always attended at their feasts by girls, and boys. Aiaxn- vouvTas; vifo tuv VEwr«Twv •yraiouv, oy>c eyovluv rt)\t^ia» ac^^Evuy te xaci S)jXe(wii,— — Diodor. Sic. 1. 5. [ 149 3 " Rob'd in the sable garb of woe,' " "Witli haggar'd eye the poet stood ; " Loose his beard and hoary hair " Stream'd, like a meteor, to the troubled air; " And with a master's hand, and prophet's fire, " Struck the deep sorrows of his lyre." Gkay's Bard. We accordingly expressed a wish to have the harper Immediately, and in a few minutes, Mr. Jones, a venerable old man, totally blind, with grey locks, was Introduced to us. He proved to be an exquisite player, and did ample justice to his noble instrument, which was the ancient three-stringed Welsh Harp, much better cal culated than ours, for expression and effeCl, It must be allowed that there Is a sameness in all the Welsh airs, but thbugh the outline be simi lar, the features are diversified. An extreme simplicity, and a wild originality, (distlnCl from the music of other nations) characterize their composition, and the pathetic, which they boast In a high degree, renders them particularly af- feClIng, Mr. Jones gave us a number of tradi tional bardic tunes, lively and inspiriting, and contrasted them with the plaintive measures of " David of the White Rock," and the solemn dirge-like music of " Morfa Rhuddlan." We regretted that another engagement obliged him . [ 1-^0 ] to leave us, after playing incessantly for an hour, and affording us a sort of pleasure differ ent from any thing we had hitherto experi enced. Your's, &c. R. W. Conway jSJ r, j " S i Kiflirlki^ wj s =¦ k=^ Talycafn Ferry Cacr.,Rur \{pff Hall \\V*i Trefriew;V^\^\ ^,^»Jp^t^Ur>vst Gwe was conneCled with the awful superstition of the ancient Britons, and exhibited spme years since vestiges of Druldi cal worship. They are described In a letter given by Camden's Contlnuator, as follows: [ 160 3 " The most remarkable pieces of antiquity " in this parish of Kerig-y-Drudlon, are those " two solitary prisons, which are generally sup- " posed to have been used in the times of the " Druids. They are placed about a furlong " from each other, and are such huts that each " prison can well contain but a single person, " One of them is distinguished by the name of " Karchar-Kynrik-Rwth, or Kenric-Rwth's pri- " son; but who he was is altogether uncertain, " The other Is known by no particular title, but " that of Kist-vaen, or Stone-Chest, which is " common to both, and seems to be a name " lately given to them, because they are some- " what ofthe form of large chests, from which " they chieflydlffer in their opening or entrance. " They stand north and south, and are each of " them composed of seven stones; of these, " four, being above six feet long, and about a " yard in breadth, are so placed as to resemble " the square tunnel of a chimney; a fifth, which " is not so long,. but of the same breadth, is " pitched, at the south-end thereof, firmly, to " secure that passage. At the north-end is the " entrance, where the sixth stone is the lid, and " the especial guard of this close confinement. " These, and the name of our parish are all the f 161 3 " metnprlals we have of the residence of those " ancient philosophers the Druids, &c."* Of these druldical antiquities there is not now a vestige remaining; they have long since been carried away, and incorporated into a building; and only a recoUeClion of their ha ving formerly stood near the village floats in the minds of some of the cottagers. On reaching this place, we were agreeably surprised to find il thronged with people., true Welsh characters, who were assembled here to celebrate a fair. The sharp features and quick eyes of the men, enlivened by the bargains they were driving, and the round good-humoured faces of the wo men, animated with the accustomed hilarity and fun of the day, threw a che^erfulness over the scene, that would have stripped spleen herself of the vapours could she have witnessed it. Add to this, my dear sir, the aukward gambols of a merry-andrew, and the strange, gabble of a Welsh quack doClor: the grimace of a pup pet-shew man, and the bawling of three or four ballad-singers, who chaunted ancient British «omposltions to different tunes ; and, perhaps, your fancy cannot form a scene more ludi- * Camedon, 814. M C 162 3 crous than Kerig-y-DruIdlon fair exhibited. C and I felt its force, and, not being able ^to repress our mirth, we indulged it In that noisy manner which invincible risibility pro duces. But if we were diverted with the whim sical medley before us, the appearance of ourselves was no less an objeCl of ridicule to the honest fair-cousins. The side-pockets of C , stuffed with specimens and so forth, ^nd my own swollen spencer, which, being a compleat novelty In this part of the world, looked like a coat without its skirts, excited extraordinary diversion in the assembly. The grin communicated from face to face, it gradu ally increased to a giggle, and in a few minutes a general roar of laughter shook the village. We could not but allow the equity of this re taliation; and walked off with an observation similar to that of the traveller who was laughed at in the country of the Guatirs, for not having,- like its inhabitants, the ornament of a wen. " Gentlemen, you may consider us as ridiculous " as you please; but I do assure you, that at " home we pass for decent men." Our progress was not checked, by any thing worth observation, till we reached the seventh mile stone from Cernioge : an hundred yards [ 163 3 be)iond which, a piClure of great magnificence occHrsi Here the vale contraCls into a deep and narrow glen, fringed with wood on either side; through which the little river Glynn pours its transparent waters; Hitherto this stream has winded quietly and peaceably thro' the valley, but now entering suddenly a bed of disjoined crags. It boils fiercely over them, and rushes between steep, • Stupendous rocks, (worn, probably, to their present chasm-like state by the force of Its waters) till it reaches a lofty arch of simple construction, carried from one side of the fissure to the other. Under this -It discharges Itself by a fall of many feet into a deep, rocky gulley, so obscured by over-hanging woods, and dark from its pro fundity, that the eye cannot trace the -torrent through all Its madness and horror. The best point from Whence to view this grand spectacle is a little to the south-east ofthe arch, which is here seen bestriding the chasm,- at the height of one hundred feet above the water; the rocks beyond, and the cataraCl under the bridge, to-.^ gether with the rising hills and deep .shade of lofty woods, combining finely to compleat th6 piClure, [ 164 3 The walk from hence to Corwen Is through a pleasing, quiet vale, bounded to the right by the Berwyn mountains. A vast rocky preci pice, an abrupt termination of the lofty Ferwyn, rears Itself above the town to the west, and forms a singular shelter from the winds of that quarter. Corwen Is a small and neat town, remarkable for being the spot where Owen Gwynedd, the prince of North- Wales, assem bled his forces in order to repel the invasion of Henry II, in 1165, The policy of the Welsh leader, who avoided an engagement, and weak^ ened the English army by cutting off the means of supply, was at length successful, and Henry returned home disgraced and chagrined. On passing through the town we were struck with a fierce, gigantic figure, which rose as a sign over the inn of the place. We found, on en quiry, it was the representation of Owen Glen dower, whose memory is revered at Corwen, and through the neighbouring country, which was the scene of his domestic life, his hospitable mansion standing at no great distance from the town. Our road to Llangollen winded at the foot, and along the sides of the Berwyn moun tains, through a narrow and beautiful valley, watered by the river Dee, which perpetually [ 165 3 varied its charaCler and appearance; some times flowing silently along Its deepened chan nel, at others forcing its noisy course over rocks and shelves. Three miles on this side of Llan gollen, the landscape becomes unrivalled in point of beauty and variety, The vale of Llan- Egwest first catches the attention : a deep and winding valley, terminating In that of Llangol len, shut in by lofty mountains finely wooded, sprinkled with several elegant villas," and enli vened by the tortuous course of the Dee, sport ing through It In whimsical meanders. Beyond this are seen the vale of Llangollen with its diversified beauties, the hill of Dinas-Bran rising from it to -the height of 1800 feet In the form of a depressed cone, " Whose dusky brow " Wears, like a regal diadem, the round " Of ancient battlements, and ramparts high ; " And frowns upon the vales ;" " 1 and the Gllsseg rocks, a long range of mural precipices, curiously stratified, bounding it to the south. As we descended into the vale, the little town of Llangollen before us, arid the remains of Valle-Crucls Abbey, seen partially through their surrounding woods on the left hand, gave additional pleasing features to the I 166 3 picture. The bed of the Dee, also, became truly romantic. It is here composed of dark, laminated slate rocks, the strata of which are disposed In the most whimsical manner; lying ] in all forms and direClions, crossing the current In lofty, obHque ridges, or running parallel with, and horizontal to It. In this manner the river dashes on to the bridge, where, although it has four arches to discharge itself through, yet, preserving its capricious charaCler, it throws Its contracted waters down a ledge of many feet deep, and rushes violently through the western one alone. We arrived at the Hand inn about six o'clock, but finding the whole household busied In pre paring dinner for the Margrave of Anspach and his party, we resolved to visit the scenery around Llangollen before we ventured to .request any thing for ourselves, as our parsimonious order would have, been absorbed and forgotten in an entertainment of two courses and a splendid desert. Having, therefore, secured beds, we set off to contemplate the ruins of Valle-Cru- pis Abbey and Dinas-Bran Castle. The former lie at the distance of two miles, from Llangollen, a little to the right of the turn pike-road to Ruthin, in a verdant meadow, near [ 167 3 the margin of a small brook, and sheltered to the east 'by lofty hills, whose steep sides are .clothed with wood. The vale, though beauti ful, Is certainly not so piCluresque as that of Llangollen; and one naturally feels surprised, that the monks, who generally displayed a good taste In the choice of situation, should have fixed upon one so inferior to the banks of the Dee, which offered themselves at a small dis tance. I can only account for it, on the sup position, that the roaring of this torrent and the impetuosity of Its current might be considered as interruptions to that quiet and abstraction, that silent meditation, in which these secluded ecclesiastics were bound to spend their time, and consequently not calculated to be their immediate neighbour. The sun was setting when we approached the ruins of Valle-Crucis Abbey, and shed a rich but softened light over the pile; a deep repose reigned around, and not a sound was heard to disturb the reflections which a scene so solemn tended to inspire. No man, I believe, who is not entirely divested of feeling and taste, can contemplate a' religious ruin without sentiments of seriousness and awe. The peculiarities of Gothic architecture are in [ 168 ] themselves extremely striking; the pointed ter mination and light tracery of its figured win dows; the variety and number of its niches, recesses, and arches; the elegance of its clus tered shafts, and ornamented capitals; and the gloomy perspective of its " long-drawn aisles, " and fretted vaults." The solemn purposes for which the edifice was originally designed, will also naturally occur to the miud, followed by a recoUeClion ofthe impressive forms of Ro man-Catholic worship; Its music, torches, and processions; its high masses, and noClurnal rites. But above all, the reflection that we are tread ing on ground, stored with the dust of the de parted, of those who like ourselves were once engaged In the hurry of business, or the pur suits of pleasure, and the convIClion that we must shortly be reduced to the same silence and dishonour, will unavoidably combine to produce sentiments of a serious cast, and, for a time at least, abash the insolence of pride, the thoughtlessness of levity, and the effrontery of vice. The ruins of Valle-Crucis Abbey are well cal culated to excite emotions of this nature. The scenery around has the appearance of quiet and retirement, and is sprinkled with little groups C 169 3 of trees, through which the walls of the great abbey church rise in all the beauty of pure Go thic architeClure. The area of this building, 1 80 feet In length, is filled with massive frag ments of Its fallen roof, and amongst them a number of self-sown shrubs and trees have spontaneously sprung up, throwing an air of ad ditional desolation over the scene. Its style of building, though elegant and tasty. Is at the same time perfeCtly simple. We were struck in particular with the variety and neatness dis played In the capitals of the pillars, and the mouldings of the arches. The east and west ends are the parts best preserved. At the lat ter, over Its large, elegant window, (which is surmounted by a small circular one exquisitely beautiful) runs a line commemorating the per son who built or repaired this end ; It contains the following letters:— AD. ADAM. DMS, Fecit Hoc opus. "Pace beata quiescat. Amen. The apartments In which the abbot was lodged, are, in part, remaining, and were conver.ted long since into a farm-house; other offices serve the ignoble purposes of stables, pig-sties, &C.* « Madoc ap Griffidd Maylor, prince of Po-wis, founded a Cister- tian Abbey here, about A. D. i aoo, and dedicated it to the Blessed Virgin, It -was found to be endowed with 188I, 8s. per annum, C 170 3 From hence we proceeded over the fields to Dinas-Bran Hill, which we ascended with con siderable tojl and some difficulty, as towards the top it becomes extremely steep. On the very crown of it are seen therulns of its ancient cas tle, and surely never was a better spot chosen for an edifice of this kind. It Is well contrasted with the situation of Valle-Crucis Abbey, which the castle overlooks, and formerly proteCled; and both spots are such as bespeak the original designation of the buildings ereCled on them; the former for menace and hostility, the latter for meditation and prayer. The prospeCl from this elevation is grand, diversified, and beauti ful, embracing every feature of landscape; mountain and valley, wood and village, river and rock; with the minuter ornaments of neat mansions, and cultivated Inclosures, We measured the outward walls, and found them not very extenslve,f but substantial, and im- pregnably situated, answering the description of the accurate Leland, " The Castelle of " DInas-Brane was never bygge thing, but sette 26th Henry VIII. and was granted 9 Jac. to Edward Wotton.- Tanaer's Not, Mon. 707. f Eighty-four yards long and fifty broad. I 171 3 « al for strenht as In a place half inaccessible >' for enemies."* The steepness of the hill pre vented an easy approach to it on most quarters, and on the south and east, where jt was least precipitous, a ditch hollowed out of the solid rock, precluded all access by Its breadth and depth. Two wells strongly arched over, and . probably of considerable depth, supplied the garrison with -water; and the foundations of a chapel evince, that the Lords of Dinas-Bran did not (as Is too much the praCtice in the present day) turn religion out of doors. The "castle has been a ruin for upwards of two centuries. Le- Jand found It In that state, when he paid it a visit in the reign of Henry VIII. He mentions a curious particular with respeCl to its natural history: that an eagle built its nest every year in one of the crags of the mountain, .and adds, " The eagle doth sorely assault him that des- " troith the nest, going doun in one basket, " and having another over his hedde to defend !' the sore stripe of the eagle, "f * Leland, 5 fol, 53, t lb. The amiable authoress of the poem called " Llangollen Vale" has mistaken Mr, Pennant, when she mentions him (in a note) as adducing Leland's testimony, that a pair of eagles built annually in the Glisseg rocks. The naturalist gives the circum stance (according to Leland's account) as belonging to the crags of [ 172 3 The origin of Dinas-Bran castle is buried, in the remotest antiquity. It may be considered, however, as one of the earliest Welsh castles. Griffith ap Madoc, the arch-traitor, who joined the forces of Henry III. against his country, found a secure refuge in the fortress of Dinas- Bran, from the just Indignation of the Welsh. After the decease of this chieftain, Edward 1, gave the guardianship of his eldest son, a minor, (which, according to the feudal usages, always vested in the prince on the decease of the pa rent, provided he held a fief of the crown) to John Earl Warren, with a hint, that John would succeed to the estates In case ofthe minor's de cease. It was a dangerous suggestion, and had its intended effeCl; the poor youth was quickly said to have died, and Earl Warren suc ceeded to Dinas-Bran as part of the lordship of Yale. A matrimonial alliance passed it after wards Into the family of the Fitzalans, earls of Arundel; where it continued some centuries. Dinas-Bran. The interpretation also of the name of those extra ordinary lime-stone rocks (communicated to the lady by a friend) is unfounded and fantastic, made in the true spirit of modem etymology. The word Eglwyjeg (even allowing it to be their pro per name) has no relation to the Welsh word for an eagle. Crei- geau'r Eryri would be the Eagle Rocks, which cannot without the roughest violence be distorted into Eglivyseg, C 173 3 I It makes at present part of the noble posses sions of the Miss MIddletons, the co-heiresses of Chirk Castle. • On our return to the Hand inn, we took a passing view of the simple, elegant, and pic turesque residence of Lady Eleanor Butler and Miss Ponsonby, who had the courage to retire, when in the meridian of youth and beauty, from the flowery but fatal paths of fashionable dissipation, and to dwell with virtue, inno cence, and peace, in the retired shades of Llangollen vale. Your's, &c. R. W. i-^-Housc of Industry Morton Chapel LUnymynach LETTER XIL TO THE SAME. DEAR SIR, Llanymynach, Aug, ii^ik, WJ^ have at length left North- Wales, a ' ^ countrywhich has affofdedus the highest gratification. This pleasure, however, arises as much from moral considerations as from na tural objeCls, from the contemplation of the manners and virtues of the people, as of the magnificent scenery amid which they dwell [ 176 ] Of these I shall endeavour to give you a slight sketch; being all, indeed, that our quick progress through the principality allows me to attempt. On considering the charaCler of the North- Walhans, we find that little variation has taken place in It, during the lapse of 1 8 centuries ; and if we allow for that pofish which the pro gress of society naturally produces on Individu als, we shall see the present inhabitant of Me rioneth and Caernarvonshire, as well pourtrayed by DIodorus, Caesar, Strabo, and Livy, as if they had taken the likeness in these days. The modern, like the ancient Celt, is In per son large and robust :* his countenance sincere and open, his skin and complexion fair and florid,f his eyes blue,J and his hair of a yel lowish tinge. § As he thus nearly resembles his great ancestor in person, he is also equally like him In niind and disposition. Openness and * 0< 5s ay^^ES cviA,yitfp^oi Tuy KtXruy cia-t. — Strabo, lib. iv. " The men (Britons) are the tallest of the Celts." f Fusa et Candida corpora. — ^Tit. Liv. lib. xxxviii, X Germani truces et coerulei oculi. — Tacit, de Mor. Germ. se£l, 4, § Tous Se xo/x-xis £K(pva-ius |a»9o<. — Diod. Sic. lib. v.- " Pro- " fusely covered -with yellow hair.'' C 177 3 ^ndour are prominent features In the Welsh charaCler of the present day; they were (dl as sTriklngly displayed by the ancient Celtic na tions.* Their hospitality you are enabled to judge of, from the examples of it which I have mentioned in the preceding letters; amongst the ancients they were highly extolled for the same amiable quality .-j- That quickness of feel ing, so apparent in the Welsh, which frequently ^displays itself in fierce, but transient fits of passion, and as often produces quarrels and bloodshed, perpetually embroiled the Celts in war and slaughter. J National, pride, a venial defeCl in the charaCler of a people, since it arises only from the excess of laudable .affec tions, is proverbial amongst the inhabitants of the principality, and they seem to have it by hereditary descent from their Celtic forefathers, who thought more highly of themselves, than * Tois Se 'n^BO-iy aijXovs eivai, jo ttoAu xc^u^iirijLeyovs ms ray Htm ay9gcii quse in aquis fojjcdum et fluminfira versari dicuntur." Procop. de Goth. lib. ii. [ 179 ] iri this respeft, with the inhabitants of Wales. The ghosts of the departed, and the spirits of tbe mountains, rocks, and winds, make a con spicuous figure in the poetry of the North; and some of the sublimest passages of Ossian have their origin in these popular prejudices: — " Fillan is like a spirit of heaven, that de- " scends from the skirt of winds. The troubled " ocean feels his steps, as he strides from wave " to*wave. His path kindles before him. " Islands shake their heads on the heaving seas. " How dreary is the night I The moon is " darkened in the sky; red are the paths of " ghosts, along its sullen face ! Dull is the " roaring of streams from the valley of dim " forms, I hear thee, spirit of my father, on the " eddying course ofthe wind, I hear thee, but *' thou bendest not forward thy tall form from " the skirts of night," These notions are, probably, unfounded, but they are not uninteresting, nor do we feel our selves inclined to reprobate the mild superstition in which they originate. It is a principle that arises from the feelings and affeClions of nature; and is, at all events, more amiable, than the C(M. philosophism of the present day, which dis^ believes every thing,' which contraCls and pe- [ 180 ] trifies the heart, deadens the affeClions, and de stroys all the finer sensibilites of the soul.- The Welsh females still retain that beauty of face, which drew encomiums On their Celtic mothers, from the writers of antiquity.* They are middle-sized, and well shaped, strikingly modelled according to the taste of Anacreon.f Their eyes are dark and sparkling, and their complexion and teeth fair and white. Though their persons display a proper degree of sym metry, yet they are obviously stouter than the women of South-England, and inherit a great portion of that strength which DIodorus men tions as characterizing the Celtic females.f Till within these few years a compleat specimen of this hardy race remained, who Inhabited a cottage on the borders of Llanberrls lake, Mr. Pennant gives the following entertaining ac count of her: — " This was Margaret uch Evan, " of Penllyn, the greatest hunter, shooter, and ¦* VvyaiKxs s^aa-iy EusiSe/f,— — Diod, Sic. 1, v. " They have " beautiful women, or wives." ITaf a aois, Aiovva-s, (rrinois, Mela Y.iiq%s (SafcxoXTrs, ^oqevcru. fiA. i, X Diod, Sic. ut sup. [ 181 3 " fisher of her time. She kept a dozen at least " of dogs, terriers, greyhounds, and spaniels, "all excellent in their kinds. She killed more " foxes in one year than all the confederate " hunts do in ten ; rowed stoutly, and was queen " of the lake; fiddled excellently, and knew all " our old music; did not negleCl the mechanic *' arts, for she was a very good joiner; and not- " withstanding she was 70 years of age, was " the best wrestler of the age, and few young " men dared to try a fall with 'her. Some years " ago she had a maid of congenial. qualities;. " but death, that mighty hunter, at last earthed " this faithful companion of hers."* The dress of the Welsh women is exaClly similar through out the prIncIpaHty, and consists of these par ticulars : a petticoat of flannel, the manufacture of the country, either blue or striped; a kind of bed-gown with loose sleeves, of the same stuff, but generally of a brown colour; a broad handkerchief over the neck and shoulders; a neat mob-cap, and a man's beaver hat. In dirty, or cold weather, the person Is wrapped in a long blue cloak, which descends below the knee. Except when particularly dressed, they * Snowdonia, 158. [ 182 3 go without shoe or stocking; and even if they have these luxuries, the latter In general has no foot to It, The man's attire is a jacket, waist coat, and breeches, of their country flannel, the last of which are open at the knees, and the stockings (for the men generally wear them) are bound under the knees with red garters. Both men and women are vivacious, cheerful, and intelligent, not exhibiting that appearance of torpor and dejeCtion which characterize the labouring poor of our own country; their wants being few, are easily supplied; a little milk^ which their own mountain goat, or the bene volence of a neighbouring farmer, affords them, an oaten cake, and a few potatoes, furnish the only meal which they desire. Unvitiated by communication with polished life, they con tinue to think and aCl as nature dictates. Con fined to their own mountains, they witness no scenes of profusion and extravagance to excite envy or malignity, by a comparison between their own penury and the abundance of others. They look round and see nothing but aClive industry and unrepining poverty, and are con tent, " The' poor the peasant's hut, his feasts tho' small, " He sees his little lot, the lot of all; [ 183 3 " Sees no contiguous palace rear its head " To shame the meanness of his humble shed; " No costly lord the sumptuous banquet deal, > " To make him loath his vegetable meal; " But calm, and bred in ignorance and toil, " Each wish contrafting, fits him for the soil," We surveyed the church of Llangollen, be fore our departure from the town, ahd were somewhat struck with the name ofthe venerable saint to whom it is dedicated, which in itself forms a little nomenclature. It is as follows: St, Collen ap Gwynnawg ap Clydawg ap Cowrda ap Caradog Freichfras ap Lleyr Merim ap Einion Yrth ap Cunedda Wledig; the sexton repeated it twice or thrice, with emphasis and deli beration, but it is to Mr, Pennant that I am indebted for the orthography of this pompous genealogical title. Shortly before we reached the three-mile stone, an objeCt of considerable curiosity and importance led us from the turn pike-road, about half a mile to the left hand, to a place called Pont-y-Swlty. The Dee, which has here assumed a quieter charaCler than it displays at Llangollen, flows through a rich and beautiful valley. Across this stream, [at right angles with it] the canal, running from. Shrews bury to Chester, is intended to be carried, by [ 184- 3 , means of an aqueduCl of stupendous design and most laborious execution. The aqueduCl itself will be of cast-iron, and supported by stone pillars, three of which (for they are nearly con structed) stand in the bed of the river. These are ten feet in breadth, by five feet In depth, at the base, and eight feet by four at the top; and rise 120 feet above the bed of the river. The expence of this vast work. It is Imagined, will amount to 50,0001, ; a striking example of the wealth and spirit of Individuals In this coun try, who, under the pecuhar pressure ofthe pre sent times, have courage to suggest, and ability ' to execute, a plan so grand and expensive. Re turning from the river, and passing over a hill which is nothing less than a mighty mass of rich and productive limestone, we crossed Into the old Oswestry road, and continued In it till we reached a farm called Vrond farm. In a field belonging to this estate, and Immediately adjoining to the turnpike-road, is a knoll, or ele vation, commanding a prospeCl wonderfully ex tensive and diversified ; the vale of Llangollen, and Its surrounding mountains, the hills of Cheshire and Shropshire, the mazy windings of the Decj. and the rich country through which it flows; the noble mansions. Chirk Castle and [ 185 3 Wynne-Stay; many other elegant seats, and a large portion of thirteen different counties. We ¦ now quitted the turnpike-road, and bent our course towards Chirk Castle thro' the park, an extensive undulating traCl of ground, adorned with noble plantations, scattered over it in a tasty and judicious manner. The situation of the mansion is very happy. It stands on the brow of a noble hill, exhibiting a view that stretches into 17 counties. There Is some thing extremely august and solemn in the build ing itself, turreted at. the top, and strenghtened with tower bastions on every side; and when we consider that it has stood since the time of Edward I. and braved the devastation and re volutions of five centuries. It will appear to be one of the most venerable, as well as perfeCl castellated mansions In the kingdom. The Lords of Dinas-Bran numbered Chirk amongst their other possessions until the conclusion of the 13th century, when the two sons of Grifiidd ap Madog (the last of that race) were placed by the king under the guardianship of two of his barons. Earl Warren and Roger Mortimer, I observed to you before, that Warren fulfilled his duty by murdering his charge, and was re warded for the atrocious aCl with the demesne C 186 3 of Yale. Roger Mortimer aCled the same bloody part by his unfortunate ward, and re ceived from the hands of his master the manors of Chirk and Nan-hendwy. Mortimer built the present castle, though much of it has been re-edified since his time, one of its sides and three towers being destroyed by Lambert, when it was delivered into his hands during the civil wars of the last century. This noble mansion, with the extensive territory attached to it, has been in the possession of the MIddleton family since the year 1614. It lately vested In two of the Miss MIddletons, by the demise of their brother, who died some few months since. Leaving Chirk Castle, we wandered through its park and Inclosures to the village of that name, from which descending Into a beautiful vale, we crossed the Ceiriog by a noble modern bridge of one arch, and simple but elegant con struction. Here we were astonished by ano ther wonderful Instance ofthe effeCls of human labour. Along the hill on the south-eastern side of the river runs the canal before-men tioned, and to convey its waters across the val ley and over the river, a prodigious aqueduCl between fifty and sixty feet above the level of the water, and several hundred yards [ 187 3 in length, is now constructing. All here is bustle and business; in one spot are seen nu merous parties of workmen driving on the course of the canal In spite «f rock, mountain, and every other obstacle which nature has thrown In their way. At a little distance the builders of the aqueduCl are employed in their stupendous labour. And immediately upon the canal several miners perforate the mountain, and follow up a rich vein of coal lately disco vered, which, from its happy situation, must prove the certain source of future fortune. Quitting this scene, we passed through the an cient town of Oswestry, a place famed in Saxon history and Monkish tales. Here Oswald, the Christian king ofthe Northumbrians, was slain in battle by Penda, the Pagan prince of Mercia; and being afterwards canonized by the eccle siastics, to whom he had been a devoted friend during life. It was here also that miracles were performed by his reliques on the diseased bodies of man and beast; A well, which formerly possessed many sanative powers, and in the times of papacy drew numberless of the disor dered to its healing spring, may still be seen. Its miraculous quahties, however, have long since ceased, but we found it wonderfully effi- [ 188 3 caclous in slaking a feverish thirst, occasioned by a long walk and intense heat. Our road to Llanymynach, which v^^e reached at 8 o'clock, lay through a very different country to what we had been accustomed to for the last ten days. We now found a soil rich and productive, scien tific- husbandry, large-sized cattle, weighty crops, and industrious labour In all its forms. The change was agreeable, and excited plea surable emotions, almost equal in degree, tho' different in kind, to those which we had expe rienced In surveying the scenery of Merioneth and Caernarvonshire, Nature in her magni ficence, her wonders, and her horrors, was then the subjeCl of our contemplation; human art and industry, with their ingenious exertions, and beautiful effeCls, now claim our attention. Each, however, affords gratification to the mind, and gives rise to appropriate reflections. In the former scenes, " we look through nature up tO " nature's God;" the sublimity of the objeCls before us fills our souls with sentiments of wonder and adoration, and our thoughts glance from earth to heaven. In the latter, we con template with astonishment the fertile Inven tion, the ingenious contrivance, and the uncon querable perseverance of man, who makes ' [ 189 3 nature herself subservient to his use ; and con verts the rocks and mountains, the woods, the winds, and waves, into means of comfort, wealth, and happiness ! The excellence of his nature, and the extent of his talents, rise In our estimation. In proportion as we attend to his works ; and we feel a conscious dignity in re flecting, that Providence has placed ourselves in so exalted a rank in the scale of his crea tures. Your's, &c. R. W. Llanymynach Iron-forsc l/lontEomery LETTER Xin. TO THE SAME. DEAR SIR, Montgomery, Aug. zStk. ^^UR first objeCl this morning was Llanymy- ^^ nach hill, which we had been prevented from surveying last night by our late arrival at the inn. We accordingly rose at six o'clock, and ascended it before breakfast. Llanymynach hill is a vast rock of calcareous marble, fit either for the work pf the mason. [ 192 3 or to be burned into lime. It is of great length, and runs nearly north and south, the extremities terminating In abrupt precipices. In our way to Its summit, we crossed a British work con sisting of a stone rampart and three fosses. We passed also some of the lime-kilns, of which there Is a very great number, belonging to Lord Bradford, constantly burning lime for manure, to supply a vast and perpetual sale. It is con sidered as the best in that part of the king dom for the farmer's purposes, who carries It to the distance of twenty miles. At the kilns the price of the best lime Is 7d. per bushel, and of the worst 6d, The labourers employed in burning it, make on an average In summer i6d. per day. In winter i2d. Here also we were, shewn the vestiges of Roman labour; a very considerable excavation of the mountain, with many small pits, In shape like inverted cones. These were formed by the sagacious and in dustrious conquerors of the world in search of the copper, lead, and calamine, with which Llanymynach hill abounds. No speculation of this kind has been attempted of late years, though It appears to be very likely, from the presence of mineral in every part of the moun tain, that a trial now would be as successful as- [ 193 3 it was formerly. Our pains in adding to the walk of to-day, and ascending Llanymynach, were amply repaid by these objeCls of curiosity, and the noble prospeCl that opened to us from the summit of it. We here caught a full and parting view of the plain of Salop ; the rich and undulating vale of the Severn, watered by its ma jestic river; the Breddin hills, and the dark top ofthe Ferwyn mountains. The Irresistible de mands of appetite compelled us, at length, to return to breakfast at our inn, where every thing excellent in Its kind awaited our arrival, particularly a delicate light kind of bread (some what like the French rolls) which we observe the people of these parts ha.ve the art of making superior to any we ever before tasted. We quitted Llanymynach at ten o'clock, and took* the side of the canal (a branch of the Elles mere) to Welsh-Pool, which only increased the distance one mile, and relieved us from flound ering through a Shropshire turnpike-road, of all public ways the most abominable. This ob servation, however, may perhaps only apply to the part of the country through which we have passed, where, in addition to a deep soil, and a scarcity of materials for reparation, incalculable injury arises to the roads from the constant C 194 3 carriage of coals to Llanymynach hill, and of lime-stone from it. As we skirted the canal, the scene was enlivened by barges passing and repassing, contrasted with the busy operations of harvfest on Its banks. Here we observed a good systematical husbandry, exerted on a fine loamy soil, producing upon the average three quarters per acre. It concerned us, however, to understand, that the canals, though highly advantageous in a national point of view, were very detrimental to the Individuals through whose property they passed. The banks which confine them can never be constructed with a sufliclent compaClness and solidity to prevent the water from oozing through them; the con sequence Is, the adjoining grounds are chilled by an undue degree of moisture, the grass is soured, or the grain destroyed. Two miles from Llanymynach we were con veyed over the river Vyrnwy, by means of an other aqueduCl, admirably constructed, of vast strength and stability. From hence to Welsh- Pool nothing particularly striking occurs, till within a short distance of that town, when the Breddin hills to the left, and the magnificent seat of Earl Powis, with Its well-wooded, undu lating grounds rising to the south, form a plea- C 195 3 sing piClure. The assizes being held at Welsh- Pool this week, we thought it best to hasten through the place with all possible ejipeditlon; for to declare the honest truth, a vs^alk of 400 miles, for the most part over rocks and moun tains, has rendered our appearance so suspici ous, as to excite some fears In us of appre hension under the vagrant aCl. Welsh-Pool, indeed, holds out nothing to detain the travel ler; it is an ill-built straggling town, remark able only for being the storehouse of the flannel manufactured in the upper counties, which are brought down here, and disposed of to the wholesale dealers who frequent the place. Striking into the fields, we followed a path that led us to the park of Powis Castle, which stands about a mile to the right of the Montgomery turnpike-road. Its situation is elevated -and commanding, looking over a vast traCl of coun try, the greatest part of which was formerly subject to its lords. The entrance is august, between two tower bastions, and the whole building brings to the recoUeClion the cumber some magnificence, and tastless splendour of former days. In front, two immense terraces one above another form the ascent to the house; •rnamented with vases, statues, &c. AH here C 196 3 is In the style of the last century, and the de scription of Timon's villa Is realized: — " Lo, what huge heaps of littleness around ! " The vifhole a labour'd quan-y above ground ; " Two cupids squirt before: a lake behind •" Improves the keenness of the northern wind, " His gardens next your admiration call, " On every side you look, behold the wall ! " No pleasing intricacies intervene, " No artful wildness to perplex the scene; "¦ Grove nods at grove, each alley has a broflier, " And half the platforrti just reflefts the other," The recorded history of this castle commences early In the 12th century, when It was founded by Cadwgan ap Bleddyn ap Cynvyn. In the conclusion of the same century, Herbert arch bishop of Canterbury besieged and took it, and added to its strength by new fortifications and a powerful garrison. These, however, were insufficient to resist the attacks of Gwenwyn- wyn its former lord, who again reduced it shortly after its surrender to Herbert. In his successors it continued for some generations, and. afterwards passed Into the family of the Charltons In Shropshire. Queen Elizabeth sold it to Sir William Herbert second Earl of Pembroke, .who being created Lord Powys, be came ancestor to the Marquisses of Powys. C 197 3 During the civil wars it fell into the hands of Sir Thomas MIddleton, who pillaged the castle, and made its lord a prisoner. George Earl of Powys possesses this noble demesne at present, which now consists of seventeen manors.* The afternoon becoming hazy and uncomfortable, we took a shorter road to Montgomery than the turnpike, and passing the Severn at a ferry where preparations are making for the ereCtion of a bridge, we hastened to the place of our destination, which we reached at six o'clock. Montgomery Is most agreeably situated on the declivity of a hill, rising to a considerable height behind It, and was formerly defended by a iioble castle, strongly seated on a lofty and romantic rock, the ruins of which have a very piCluresque effeCl from a little distance. Originally part of the possessions of Baldwyn, the friend and companion of William the Conqueror, it is pro bable he became the founder of the castle, as its small remains display some peculiarities of Norman architecture. It afterwards came Into the powerful family of Mortimer, and continued there till the death of Edmund Earl of March. During the disturbances of the last century, * Pennant, 379, [ m 3 being taken by Sir Thomas MIddleton the Oli- verlan, it underwent the fate of numberless other edifices of the same kind, was dismantled by order of the parliament, and reduced to the melancholy heap of ruins which it now exhibits, Your's, &c. R. W- [d1 Bishop's-Castlc /fc} Pentre Audrey ff/J/j^ Bucknell ^ fc. Brampton-Brian Wigmore LETTER XIV. TO THE SAME. DEAR SIB, Wigmore, Aug. z-jth. FINDING that the term of our intended absence from home would allow the ex tension of our tour beyond the limits originally proposed to it, we this morning agreed to cross over to Hereford, and traverse the banks of the Wye from thence to Chepstow, instead of directing our steps 'immediately to the New- Passage, Having attended service, therefore, ' at the church of Montgomery, we left that town [ 200 3 at half past twelve, on our road to Clun. After a walk of five miles, a long ascent conduCled us to the summit of Castle-Rising hill, from whence we enjoyed a noble view ofthe country which we had traversed during the last two days; the hills of Salop, and the rich vale of Montgomery, Here, also, we overlooked the town of BIshop's-Castle; Walcot, the noble seat of Lord Cllve, and Its adjoining grounds; together with a considerable part of Herefford- shire. Leaving the dIreCl road, we struck across the downs to Clun, and amused ourselves for a few minutes In contemplating its ruined castle and fallen grandeur. Originally built by Fltz- alan, (descended from the nobleNormanof that name, who founded the Arundel family) Clun castle was the strong fortress from whence the Lords Marchers rushed into the adjoining ter ritories ofthe Welsh princes, pillaged and laid waste the unsuspeCling country, and to which they afterwards retreated with their prisoners and spoil. It paid the penalty of Its lawless system long since, being a ruin In the time of Leland, who only mentions it as having been " bothe stronge and wellbullded;" It has, now, " No honourable note, " No chronicle of all its warlike pride. [ 201 3 " To testify what once it was, how great, " How glorious, and how fear'd. So perish all, " Who seek their greatness in dominion held " Over their fellows, or the pomp of war; " And be as thou forgotten, and their fame " Cancell'd like thine." On enquiring our road to Wigmore, where we proposed passing the evening, we were pleased to understand it was so plain and direSl as not to be mistaken ; and moreover, that the distance of seven short miles would lead us to Our place of destination. We had often had occasion in Wales to observe, the inaccuracy of the common people's Ideas with respeCl to distance, and generally found the addition of half a mile to the real measurementx necessary to form a Welsh mile. But In Shropshire they seem to be still more Ignorant In this respeCl, for upon a calculation of the time expended in walking from Clun, to Wigmore, and of the speed which we used in the journey, . we esti mated, with the utmost falrneSs, that we had Ipassed over at least twelve miles of country. This Indeed received the confirmation of a third person. We had not proceeded more than three miles upon this remarkably plain and 'easy road, before we were utterly at a loss how [ 202 3 to proceed, from the intricacies of a hilly coun try, covered with cross-roads and paths that in tersected each other, and offered themselves in every direClIon, Fortunately, a solitary horse man, who was travelling to the town of Pres- teign, appeared at this juncture, and relieved us from our state of perplexity, by pointing out the road we should pursue; you will, however, imagine our chagrin, when he observed, in ad dition to his information, that even if we threaded the mazes of the route to Wigmore, we should find that we had at least nine mlleS further to walk. He certainly neither over rated the distance or the difficulties, for after all our enquiries and minute observation of the direClions afforded us, I am confident we' should have wandered about the open downs of the hills, or floundered through the narrow dirty lanes of the vales, till this time, had we not met with an honest hind who lived near the place to which we were going, and kindly offered to conduCl us thither. Under his convoy we pursued our walk with fresh spirit, and reached the ancient village of Brampton-Brian irt sufficient time to survey the old and singular little chuich there. Its pecu liarity consists in one end of it being attached [ 203 3 to the keep of a ruined castle. This fragment is the only remain of a fortress built in the early Norman times, by Brian de Brampton, the head of an ancient and powerful family of that name, from whom the village also received its appel lation. The fief of Brampton continued to be held in an uninterrupted succession till the reign of Edward II. by the lords of this family, when it passed into that of the Harleys, (ancestors of the present Lord Oxford) by the marriage of Robert Harley with Margaret daughter and co-heir of Brian de Brampton, Here it has xontinued ever since, and now makes part of the large estates of the Earl of Oxford, This nobleman has still a mansion in the village, capable of being converted into a desirable re sidence. The dilapidated state of the build ing, however, and the wild appearance of its extensive garden, evince that it has not been ¦kitherto honoured with much of his lordship's attention. The formerconsequenceof Bramp- ii ton-Brian would perhaps have been insufficient to have preserved its name from oblivion, had not a wag, in the early part of this century, contributed, by a piece of humour, to keep It floating In the recoUeClion of the world. This was Harry Hall, the organist of Hereford, of [ 204 3 facetious memory; The owner of Brampton-' Brian, a starched puritanical charaCler, having' excited the resentment of our poet, he deter-- mined to be revenged by making him the sub* jeCl of his wicked wit. An opportunity soon offered : a female domestic was found to be in i that situation which is honourable only in a married dame. This discovery produced con-i siderable confusion in the family at the manor- house; the credulous and unfortunate girl was turned out of doOrs with every mark of Igno- 1 miny, harshness, and cruelty; lustrations werei performed, and the walls resounded with ana-i themas against the wretch whose levities hadi polluted the hitherto Immaculate residence of: this disciple of old John Knox. Hall heard of ' the circumstance, and immediately wrote a well-known song on the subjeCl; which, though rather a loose composition. Is not devoid of wit; the versification Is smooth, the points are good, and the epigrammatic turn at the conclusion is sufficiently neat. The rain now began to fall in heavy drops ; we therefore hastened on fo Wigmore, through miserable roads, and reached the Castle inn; the public-house of the village, wet, dirty, and fired, at eight o'clock. The looks of our land- C 205 3 lord, who opened the door to us, afforded us no favourable Idea of the welcome we should receive. In truth, we soon discovered we were not to expeCl very hospitable treatment. To our questions, whether we could be provided with supper and beds, a sullen no was returned by the deep voice of the host, which the shrill pipe of his wife (who spoke from the kitchen) very audibly confirmed. After a parley, how ever, of some length, in which we described our situation and fatigue, together with the imprac ticability of our proceeding further to-night, we gained admission into an ordinary parlour, as well as an unwilling promise that somethings should bp provided for our refreshment. We now found that our appearance and mode of travelling ,had excited suspicions no way fa vourable to our honesty; for scarcely had we jseated ourselves by the fire, when a maid, en tering the room, proceeded to a corner-cup board, and slyly conveying Into her apron three 'or four silver spoons, and a small silver cup which had hitherto formed the splendid orna ments of the parlour, removed them from a situa tion In which our host and his wife evidently con ceived It was dangerous to allow th& family plate to remain. Notwithstanding this proof of their [ 206 3 want of confidence, I was not without hopes of bringing them to their .accustomed cordiality; nor have I been disappointed in my endeavour. Oh! courtesy, how wonderful is thy power. Thy gentle inflitence stealing softly to the heart, smooths every^-asperityj-subdues each unkindly emotion, and by a gradual metamor phosis, changes the gloom of suUenness into the smile of complacency. The curled brow of our landlord at length relaxed, and assumed its wonted serenity; his wife also became less peevish and ill-natured; we have gotten an excellent supper, and are provided with two comfortable, well-aired beds. Your's, &c. R. W. Leomlnctcf Wye River LETTER XV. TO THE SAME. DEAR SIR, Hereford, Aug, zSfA. 'HE noble remains of Wigmore Castle claimed our attention very early this morning. They stand to the west of the town, on a natural hill of considerable elevation, and form a very piCluresque ruin. An artificial mount was raised to receive the keep, which rises greatly higher than the outward walls, and [ 208 ] produces, at a short distance, a grand effeCl, The chief entrance is to the east, and strikes the eye as being singularly low; a profuse mantle of Ivy crowns Its summit, which creeping also over soine of the adjoining bastions, gives an air of venerable majesty to the mouldering pile, Wigmore Castle was built by William Earl of Hereford; It afterwards came Into the Mortimer family, the heads of which lived here for some centuries In almost princely grandeur; extending their jurisdiction over all the sur rounding country, exercising many ofthe rights of sovereignty, holding their own courts, and trying and executing the criminals found with in their demesne. It is now an appendage to the estate of Lord Oxford, his ancestors having enjoyed it ever since the reign of James I, who granted it to Thomas Harley, esq; of Brampton- Brian, the great grandfather of the Lord Trea surer in Queen Anne's reign. In our way from the castle we surveyed the church of Wigmore; a spacious, ancient edifice, and particularly curious from the circumstance of Its being chiefly constructed of large blocks of composi tion, (formed in moulds) light and porous, and in appearance very much resembling the vol canic production called pumice-stone. The [ 209 3 ihost striking bbjeCl within the church, is a sumptuous seat, facing the pulpit. It is 'fitted up with every accominodation of ease, and re finement of luxury; an elegant Buzaglo stove, a handsome figured carpet, half a dozen fashion able chairs, and a most splendid crimson velvet curtaiii, adorning, with its fantastic festoons, the. plain arch In frent of the pew. We could not but view this violation of the simplicity so proper to be observed in the style of accommo.- dations in place of public worship, with con siderable disgust. The lightsome decorations of a modern drawing-room assimilate but auk- wardly with, the solemnity of a Gothic pile; and the motIves> that suggest this ostentatious display of superior wealth, within walls where pride should never enter, are far from being congenial with those sentiments and affeClions which the house of God is calculated to inspire. The churcti-yard afforded us a view of the flat unwholsome country to the north of the village, which Is flooded during all the winter months, and breathes rheums and agues. From hence also we saw, about a mile to the left, the grange of the nOble Abbey of Wigmore,f founded ori ginally by Sir Hugh de Mortimer, and finally settled here in the year 1179. The monks p C 210 3 were of the order of St. Austin, and enjoyed, from the bounty of the founder alone, estates amounting, at the dissolution, to upwards of 300I. per annum. On the right, our attention was direCled to a solitary farm-house called the government, where the steward ofthe castle was wont to reside, who received from the numer ous tenants of the barony, .the rents, of their respective farms in kind, . (according to the usual model of tenure in the feudal times) and supplied the castle with the means of f hat hos pitality which it formerly exhibited. The violent rains that had fallen in the night rendered our walk extremely uncomfortable, Every step plunged us ancle-deep in mud ; nor was our labour at all recompensed by interest' ing scenery, or amusing occurrence. The only place we passed conneCled with remarkable circumstance was Mortimer's Cross, a public- house three miles from Wigmore, near the in tersection of two cross-roads, in the immediate neighbourhood of which. One of the bloody contests fought between the houses of York and Lancester was decided. Here Mortimer, the young earl of March and baron of Wig more, on the eve of Candlemas-day, in the year 1461, attacked and discomfited an army ofthe [ 211 3 Lancastrians, led by Caspar Tudor ea:rl ,of Pembroke, and James Butler earl of Ormond. The battle was fought in a large field near the Ludlow road called King's-land, and 3800 of Margaret's followers were added to the bloody list of those already slain in this precious dis pute. Having reached Hereford, we called on our friend Mr. Wathen, whose aClive attention and promptness to oblige are experienced and acknowledged by all who have the pleasure of his acquaintance. On him we depended for directions in our expedition down the Wye, and his usual kindness has been displayed in making out for us a minute delineation of the course of the river, its most piCluresque points, and the objeCls of curiosity in the neighbour hood of its banks. Nor is this all: he has pro mised to meet us at Wilton-bridge near Ross, on Wednesday morning, and to be our guide from thence to the beautiful scenery around Tintern Abbey. Your's, &c. R. W, How-Gapip Bramfton-Abbots LETTER XVI. TO THE SAME. D-EAR SIR, Wilton-Bridge, Aug. zgtb. I Forbear to make any remarks on the city of Hereford, as much has already been done towards its illustration; and as ample accounts of it are scattered through books which you have frequent opportunities of turning over. The Wye alone vvill employ my attention. Let me observe then, in the first place, that there [ 214 3 is no mode of seeing Its numerous and varied beauties so satisfactorily, as that of following its sinuosities on foot. The usual praClice, you know, is to go from Hereford to Ross In a carriage, and from thence drop down the river to Chepstow In a boat, a voyage performed in two days. By these means, however, all the beautiful scenery between Hereford and Ross Is omitted, the expence of theexpedltlon is en hanced in the proportion of six to one, and several fine views of the river from Its neigh-: bouring elevations are entirely lost. Under the direClIon of Mr. Wathen, who added to his other favours that of accompany ing us the first three miles of this day's walk, we crossed the Wye at Castle-Green, and struck through the grounds and farm-yard of Rotherwas, the elegant family mansion of Charles Bodenham, esq. Dyndor hill lay be-^ fore us, and the Roman encampment, which receives Its name from It, on our left hand. From hence we took a farewell view of Here ford and its neighbourhood, the adjoining hills, and the black mountain, that striking boundary to the north-west, and commanded a diversified and sweeping prospeCl to the opposite point. Our approach to Hom-Lacy, was.by a grad-ual C 215 3 descent of nearly a mile, through a rich, pro ductive country, glittering with a heavy crop of ripening corn. This substantial mansion Is one of the many houses belonging to his Grace the Duke of Norfolk. The older part of It dis plays the aukward style of Elizabeth's time; the later was built towards the beginning of the present century. Its situation is in the taste ofthe age when it was constructed; quiet and retired, ^commanding a beautiful but con fined view from the front. This was the situa tion which our forefathers affeCled; their shy ness induced them to ambush their country seats in woods and bottoms, and they are, per haps, on -this account more interesting than modern rural residences, which (as has been well observed) disclose all their glories at once, and never excite expectation by concealment, by gradual approaches, and by interrupted ap pearances, Hom-Lacy was for some centu ries In the ancient family of the Scudamores," wFose ancestor. Saint Scudamore, (so called from the scutum amoris divini, which he took for his arms) attended William the Conqueror, in his expedition to England, A descendant of his, Philip de Scudamore, In the 14th cen tury, settled at Hom-Lacy, which continued to C 216 3 be the principal seat of the family till the year 1 716, when the last Viscount Scudamore dyirig, the estate vested In his only child, a daughter. By Charles Fitzroy, esq; (her second husband) she also had a daughter, to whom the property descended. This lady married the present Duke of Norfolk In 1771, and added Hom- Lacy to the princely domains of that nobleman. It was In this pleasing retreat that our admira ble poet, Mr. Pope, frequently wooed the muses, entertained by the generous hospitality of the last Viscount Scudamore. Here he drew the charaCler of the benevolent John Kyrle, the famous Man of Ross, who with the comparatively small pittance of 500I. a year, diffused comfort and happiness through a large district of coun try; and effeCled works of public convenience that would have done honour to a prince : " Who hung with woods yon mountain's sultry brow ? " From the dry rock who bade the waters flow? " Whose causeway parts tlie vale with shady rows ? " Whose seats the weary traveller repose ? " Who taught that heaven-direfted spire to rise ? '" The Man of Ross, each lisping babe replies," Hom-Lacy is Indeed a situation calculated for the poet; Inspiration seems to breathe around: in Pope's own language, \ " Here waving groves a chequer'd scene display, " And part admit, and part exclude the day." [ 217 3 Whilst the crystalline Wye, that flows beneath the mansion, forms an enlivening contrast to the solemn shade of these academic bowers. The house is furnished in an appropriate style of heavy magnificence, and the walnscoat- ing and floors, which are formed of dark wood, assimilate well with every other circumstance in and about it. Several good family portraits of the Scudamores by old masters are displayed In the grand saloon; and a noble piClure painted by Hamilton, i6 feet In height, hangs over the chimney-piece. The subjeCl is a very happy one for the banquettlng-room In which it is placed: Solomon entertaining the Queen of Sheba. The likenesses of his Grace in the charaCler of the King of Israel, his Duchess in that of the Queen, and the Honourable Mr. Howard, and Lady E. Bingham, as guests at ¦the table, are well preserved. The exquisite carved work of Gibbons, also, which ornaments the chimney-pieces, and imitates in wood the nice minutia of nature in the formation of her fruit, plants, and birds, is an objeCl of great curiosity. We were induced to stroll to tbe parsonage- house of Hom-Lacy in order to survey a pear- tree growing near it, which affords an example [ 218 3 of extraordinary frultfulness. Incredible as thft account may appear to be, it is still a serious faCl, that this tree has produced for many years the quantity of 14, 15, and 16 hogsheads of perry every season. The respeCtable incum bent, Mr, Bagnell, (a canon residentiary of Hereford) who has held the living of Hom- Lacy upwards of half a century, attests the faCl, and explains It in the following manner: Some years since a large branch being broken down by the wind, its head fell to the ground, the but of It still adhering to the trunk. It was unno ticed for a considerable time; at length, on exa mination, it appeared to have struck into the ground, taken root, and formed a scion. Will ing to humour this lusus natura, the Incum bent gave directions for other layers to be made from the tree in a similar manner; they all took and bore fruit, the parent tree and its offspring now cover a quarter of an acre, and repay the experiment with the enormous pro- duCl before mentioned. From the church we descended to the ferry over the Wye, opposite to the Duke's house, at the bottom of an ex tensive meadow. It was not without some alarm that we performed this short voyage, the boats used for the purpose being extremely un- E 219 3 safe. They are long, narrow, flatrbottomed; and worked by a lad, who sits at the stern, and direCls it with a paddle. In this little vehicle the passenger is conveyed over a stream always rapid, and frequently, when swollen with rain, extremely agitated and turbulent ; thus situated Jt is absolutely necessary for him to be perfeCtly niotionless, for should he change his position, the cockUng boat would inevitably overset, and whelm him in the river, which is here very deep. Passing the village of Fownhope, we climbed ithe woody banks of Caplar hill, whose sum mit exhibits a specimen of Roman castratmeta^ ition, and commands a pleasing view of the .vagarious river winding at its foot. Here It makes a capricious turn to the south, and leads the pedestrian, who follows its banks, a cir cuitous walk of six miles, to a village called , How-Caple, to which a direCl path, of only two miles, would carry him, if he choose to leave the course of the Wye. We were, however, much gratified by including this sweep of the river In our walk, as several beautiful points of vieWf formed by the varied features of its banks, ; opened to us in our progress through It. Armstone, the pleasing residence of Mr. Woodhouse ; Fawley-Court, (another specimen . [ 220 3 of the architeClure of Queen Elizabeth's time) the family-seat of Mr. Money; the piCluresque village of How-Caple, famed for its excellent cider; and Carthage, the house of Mr.. Lloyd; successively present themselves as varieties in this agreeable deviation from the usual path* We passed through Ross, which offers nothing of consequence to the observation of the travel ler, and proceeded to Wilton, our present quar ters. It was formerly a barony, from which the Greys de Wilton took their title. The an cient castle, built in the reign of Henry I. is still existing, and lends its ruins to add to the variety, and heighten the beauty of the magic scenery of this place. Your's, &C. R. W, N' Goodrich Castle Monmoutb Chepstow Severn River LETTER XVII. TO THE SAME. DEAR SIR, Tintern, Aug. ^otb. Y^UR expedition hastens to a termination, ^^ but accident has fortunately led us to finish It with a very agreeable climax. No thing, indeed, can exceed the beauty of the banks of this romantic river. The scenery, though not stupendous is often grand, some times subhme, and never uninteresting. Re- [ 222 3 peated descriptions of it have been given to the world ; but the elegant pen of Mr, Gilpin, di reCled by taste, and enlivened by fancy, seems alpne to have done justice to its inexhaustible and beautiful varieties. Our friend and conduClor, Mr. Wathen, met us according to promise this morning at eight o'clock, and shortly after his arrival we began our walk. It was rendered particularly agree able by a perpetual Interchange of cloud and sun- ishine through the whole day, which gave great teffeCl to the features of the country, by throw ing them into transient gloom, and lighting them up with occasional gleams. The first bbjeCl that engaged our attention was Good rich Castle, the ancient family-seat of the Tal bots, which rises on the opposite bank of the river, at the distance of four miles from Wilton. Crossing the ferry, we ascended to Its magnifi cent remains. They are highly piCluresque, and particularly striking, richly decorated with ivy, and " bosomed high In tufted trees;" the crumbling, turrets of the massive walls, and the waving heads of the surrounding wood, reflect ing a reciprocal charm oh each other, form a combination extremely agreeable to the imagi nation, and impressive to the mind. The ar- C 223 3 chiteClure is evidently of different ages; speci mens of the Anglo-Norman style occur in the windows of the keep, and examples of the pure Gothic (which was a century later) In other parts of the ruins. Quitting the lofty situation of Goodrich Castle, which commands an ex tensive prospeCl, we proceeded to HenSham ferry, leaving to the left a considerable sweep of the j-iver, as it contains no features particu larly interesting.. Having again crossed the Wye, we turned immediately into a path, thro' the meadows on its banks. Here the scene becomes truly majestic. The Coldwell rocks rising to a towering height on the right hand, alternately start through the thick woods which mantle their sides, in lofty, pointed crags; and display broad masses of their surface, relieved by creeping lichens, and diversified with mineral tinges. The little cottages scattered at their feet, the neat residences of industrious labour, ,form a pleasing accompaniment; exhibiting simplicity contrasted with majesty. Our course led us up a steep and winding ascent (during which we caught occasional views of great beauty) to the summit of Simond's rock, a stu pendous precipice, said to be 900 feet above the bed of the river. From hence the river [ 224 3 which we have just crossed, with all its conti guous scenery, appears spread beneath us to the north. In an opposite direClIon are seen the New Weir, the Iron-works upon it, a sharp and capricious turn ofthe river, the Doward rocks, and an huge Isolated crag, lifting its detached, precipitous form, crowned with moss, and sprinkled with ivy, to a height little inferior to the cliff from whence it Is seen. At the New Weir it was again necessary for us to cross this winding stream, and we continued to follow its meanders, having on our right hand, for better than half a mile, a bold steep bank, covered with noble beech trees, whose deep shade is occasionally relieved by the white face of the rock discovered through , it. The Doward rocks, which constitute a very grand feature of the Wye, now began to open upon us, and the effeCl produced upon the imagination by their towering stratified appearance, is much en livened by the circumstance of a fine echo, the centrum phonicum of which appears to be near a spreading beech tree in the middle of the mea dow. Our path quickly led us to the turnpike- road from Ross to Monmouth, which runs pa rallel with the river for some distance, and commands a glorious view of the Wye, with [ 225 } its rough rocks, and luxuriant woods! We hastened through the neat town of Monmouth, built on the confluence of the rivers Wye and Monnow, and passing the bridg|e thrown over the latter, turned again into the meadows near its margin. At the distance of little better than half a mile from Monmouth, the river makes another grand sweep to the right, and assumes a different charaCler from that which it has hitherto observed. Dismissing its rocks and precipices, it rolls through lofty sloping hills, thickly covered with waving woods from their roots to their tops. All here Is solemn, still, and soothing; a deep repose reigns around, and attunes the mimd to meditation. An agree able variety, however ; soon occurs, the little piCluresque village of Redbrook, a bustling, busy scene, enlivened by aClive industry in va rious fornrs. White-Brook, another hamlet, ornamented with the house of General Rooke, presently succeeds; to the left of which, on a commanding devadion,; Is seen the vilkgfeof St. Brieval's witfa Its church and castle, the' latter serving as a prison, for those conviCied of tres passes in the neighbouring forest of Dean, It is difficult to give a just idea of the singul^ village of Llaiisdbgo, that now opens .upon us. Q C 236 3 You must imagine, my dear sir, a lofty hill, whose indented side is mantled with deep Woods, through which a multitude of small cottages, sprinkled over the declivity In an art less, whimsical, and piCluresque manner, shew their little whitened fronts, and strongly im press the imagination with the idea of its be ing fairy land, the romantic residence of Oberon, Mab, and their fantastic train. This spot is generally esteemed, and with great justice, a beautiful feature of the Wye. The river now takes a sharp turn to the left, and hurrying on half a mile further to Cardithel, experiences a considerable and singular depression of Its level, sinking, gradually, several feet. Passing thro' the populous village of Brookweir, to which the" Severn hoys ascend in order to receive the lading of the Wye barges, we left for a short time the banks of the river, and wound up a narrow lane for another mile. We then at tained the summit of a hill, and a prospeCl immediately burst upon us, scarcely to be equalled for richness and variety. Behind us lay the fairy region of Llandogo, the busy vil lage of Brookweir deeply embosomed in wood, and the crystalhne river, studded with vessels of different descriptions. Before us were C 227 3 spread the village of Tintern, with the diver sified scenery of the dale in which it stands, its glittering stream and dark woods, and the lofty ruins of its abbey, a beautiful Gothic pile rising in solemn majesty, spotted with mosses, and crowned with ivy. The whole scene was gloriously tinted by the rich illumination of a setting sun. We slowly descended the hill,, Indulging tlie reflections which the view had inspired, and crossing the Wye for the last time, proceeded to the Beaufort Arms, a very comfortable inn, kept by Mr. Gething, the antiquary and his torian of the village, Your's, &c. R. W. [ 223 3 LETTER XVIII. TO THE SAME. DEAR SIR, Chepstow, Avg, 31st. T 11 THILST we are waiting for the flood tide ^ ^ in order to cross the Severn, on our re turn to Bath, I indulge myself in troubling you with a few additional lines, as a finish to the slight account of our expedition, which, in compliancie with your request, I have attempted to give you, The brevity I must necessarily observe in my concluding letter, will, I appre hend, need the less apology, as the scenery of this place and its neighbourhood has already been described by Tourists out of number, who have been so particular In their details, as to leave nothing to be gleaned by such birds of passage as C and "myself. The extreme heat of the last night effeClually prevented us from sleeping, and we passed the greater part of It at our window. This we were induced to do both for the sake of a balmy ^nd refreshing breeze that gently whispered without, and in order to enjoy a scene perfeCtly new to us, highly gratifying to a warm imagina- [ 230 3 lion. Immediately opposite to the room in which we were lodged stands a large iron- forge, one amongst the many that are con stantly worked night and day, in the valley of Tintern, The wide folding-doors were thrown open, and as they faced our window, the in terior part of the edifice, with its huge appa ratus, and the operations carried on by It, were displayed to our view. Here the dingy beings who melt the ore, and prepare it for the bar- hammer, were seen busied In their horrible employment, all the detail of which we clearly discovered by the assistance of the strong illu mination cast on them from the flaming fur naces. This scene of bustle amidst smoke and fire, during the darkness and silence of mid night, which was only interrupted by the in tonations of the bar-hammer, produced a most impressive effeCl on the mind. We saw Vir gil's description realized, and the Interior of Etna, the forges of the Cyclops, and their fear ful employment, immediately occurred to us. " Fulgores nunc terrificos, sonitumque, metumque " Miscebant operi, flaramisque sequacibus iras. " Gemit impositis, incudibus antrum, " Illi inter sese multa vi brachia tollunt " In numerum, versantque tenaci forcipe massam." En, viii, 431, [ 231 3 Our impatience to survey the ruins of Tin tern abbey Induced us to rise with the sun. It was some time, however, before we were gra tified, for the key of it having been very in judiciously taken from Mr, Gething, and placed in the hands of a man on the other side of the river, considerable delay and trouble arise in procuring it; an inconvenience which Is not recompensed by the civility of the ciceroni, who has none of the obliging attention of our host at the Beaufort Arms. After much vocifera tion, we at length gained the key, and were admitted into the abbey. The coup d'oeil, on opening the western entrance, is, unquestionably, very fine. The peculiar elegance and light ness of all its members immediately strike the eye. Nothing, indeed, can be more perfeCl than the architeClure of Its various parts; its moulded arches, clustering pillars, and figured windows. Nature, also, as if to render the ruin compleat, has taken abundant pains in decorating its columns and walls with a pro fuse coating of Ivy, which is very happily con trasted to the light hue of the stone used In the building, that even now preserves much of its original whiteness. This beautiful ruin Is cru ciform, two hundred and thirty feet in length. [ 232 3 and thirty-three in breadth; the transept stretches north and south one hundred and sixty feet. It was originally the great church belonging to the CIstertian Abbey of Tintern, founded by Walter de Clare in 1131, and de dicated to St. Mary, as all monasteries of that order were. Falling a prey to the rapacity of Henry VIII. at the dissolution, (when its estates amounted to 192I, per annum) It was granted by him In 1537 to the Earl of Worcester. Many vestiges of other buildings belonging to the abbey may be traced, such as door-ways, shafts of pillars, &c. and they all prove that the purest stile of Gothic architeClure was bo- served in the structure of the great church and the contiguous edifices. Having gratified our selves with a minute observation of every part of this ruin, and visited the iron-works, where the crude ore is melted, and formed into rough pigs, preparatory to its being manufaClured, we bade farewell to our kind friend Wathen, (who returned to Hereford) and took the road towards Chepstow. One othe;r grand view re mained to us before we finished our expedition; I mean that which is seen from a stupendous elevation called the Wine-cliff, (.a corruption, probably, of Wye-eliff) rlsmg a little to the [ 233 3 north-eiast of Plercefield, ,and overlooking the surrounding country. Quitting the road, and taking a path through the meadows to the left hand, we reached this eminence by a gradual ascent, and were suddenly astonished with a scene grand and unbounded. Immediately under the chff is seen the Wye, following a course the most whimsical and sinuous that can be conceived, and discharging its waters into the Severn at Chepstow. The vast mural, lime-stone precipices, that rise abruptly from its banks, finely diversified by a regular alterna tion of rock and wood, appear in front and to the left. Plercefield, with all Its magic scenery, lies under to the eye, to the right. Beyond It the ruined castle of Chepstow, and its busy town, are caught. And In the distance, the straining vision roves over Glocestershire, So- ihersetshire, and Monmouthshire, and follow ing the course of the magnificent Severn, is at length lost in the Bristol Channel. Not being fortunate enough to gain admis sion into the grounds of Plercefield, for this is not a day of their public exhibition, we walked oh towards Chepstow, through a country ex tremely pleading. The name of this town, according to Camden, signifies a "place of C 234 3 " trading," and it still retains some appearance of Its ancient celebrity In that respeCl, It is built on the Wye, about two miles from the point where It discharges itself into the Severn, and is provided with proper quays for the con venience of the numerous vessels which fre quent the place. A wooden bridge of prodi gious height, ereCled on piles, crosses the river to the south of the town. The boards which form the flooring of this are not fastened, but so disposed as to rise and fall with the tide, which Is known sometimes to exceed seventy feet In height. The church is a curious edifice. It formerly belonged to the alien BenediCtine priory of Strlgule, but was converted at the Re formation Into the parish church of Chepstow. The ^ra of Its ereClIon may be pretty well as certained by the circular arches and massive Anglo-Norman pillars of the great aisle, toge ther with the western door, which exhibits a beautiful and perfeCl specimen of the architec ture of the eleventh century. But the glory of Chepstow is Its' ruined castle, " mighty in " decay," and occupying a great extent of ground. This also dates its origin from the early Norman times, and was probably ereCled immediately subsequent to the Conquest. We t 235 3 entered It by a lofty gateway of noble appear ance, and surveyed with wonder its extensive remains, and substantial walls. .Founded on a bold, perpendicular rock, and constructed with all the strength which art could bestow upon it, Chepstow Castle bade fair to boast an endu rance equal to the firm basis on which It Is built. The fallen turrets, however, and dilapidated walls, crumbling gradually Into annihilation, pvince the impossibility of resisting the silent, but uninterrupted attacks of Time, who sooner or later levels with the dust all the monuments of human vanity, and all the efforts of human labour. "¦ And e'en so fares it with the tilings of earth f Which seem most constant : there will come the cloud " That shall enfold them up, and leave their place " A seat for emptiness. Our narrow ken f Reaches too far, when all that we behold " Is but the hav.ock of wide-wasting Time, '' Or what he soon shall spoil. His outspread wings !' (Which bear him like an eagle o'er the earth) " Are plum'd in front so downy soft, they seem f To foster what they touch, and mortal fools " Rejoice beneath their hovering: woe the while! " For in tliat indefatigable flight " The multitudinous strokes incessantly " Bruise all beneath their cope, and mark on all " His secret injury; on the front of mari [ 236 3 "¦ Grey hairs and wrinkles; still as Time speeds on, " Hard and more hard his iron pennons beat " With ceaseless Violence; nor overpass, ^' Till all the creatures of this nether world "¦ Are one wide quarry : following dark behind, " The cormorant Oblivion swallows up " The carcasses that Time has made his prey." Your's, &c. R. W. YALE UNIVERSITY LIBRARY 3 9002 06050 3514 mm SStf: 1 ^4 ri