THE CAMBRIAN DIRECTORY. (continued 2)

Barmouth, though considered as a bathing-place, is very inferior to Tenby, yet its situation for grandeur of rocks, has been frequently compared, by many Tourists, to Gibraltar; and by others, esteemed not unlike St. Kitts, in the West Indies. The vast sand banks, formed by the tides immediately in front of the town, are the only barriers which protect it from the inundations of the sea. The shore is extremely level, and affords, for many miles, excellent riding. In respect to the bathing, little can be said to recommend it; the machines are not drawn into the water, and by this palpable inconvenience, you are under the disagreeable necessity of walking a considerable way in, before the water is sufficiently deep for “plunging headlong in the briny flood.” During our stay here, two gentlemen perceiving that the water was very much alloyed by a fresh water stream disemboguing itself into the sea, at Barmouth, persuaded Mrs. Lewis, the obliging landlady of the Cors-y-gedol Arms, to remove the machines farther from the town; and from them we were informed, that though the salt water was purer, yet they found it impossible to draw them sufficiently deep for good bathing: the machines being stationary on the sands, the ladies likewise find it remarkably inconvenient, being equally compelled to walk in. The folly of this method seems to be more striking, as the objection might be so easily obviated. The lower class here, as in many other parts of Wales, indiscriminately dress and undress on the sands, and pay very little distinction to their sex.

The board and lodging is regulated on the same excellent plan here as at Tenby, with very little difference in respect to the expence. The town itself is very dirty, and so irregularly built, on the declivity of a rock, that the windows of one house not uncommonly look down on the neighbouring chimney. We could not avoid observing the number of pigs, which are esteemed in this part of the country far superior to any in England, lying in every corner of the street; and these pigs, I rather imagine, consider themselves, during the night, inmates of the peasant’s cottage: yet these hardships, if they may be distinguished by that name, the inhabitants of the hovel suffer without complaint, and deem themselves perfectly happy as long as they possess a pile of turf to keep off the inclemency of the winter’s blast, a small strip of ground, well stocked with potatoes, some poultry, and a fat pig; though one hovel protects them all. Though to appearance, their situation is most miserable, yet it has no effect on their tempers and dispositions; their hospitality, and indeed kindness, towards strangers in distress, is an interesting trait in their character: to instance this, I am induced to mention an anecdote, which took place at Hubberstone, not long ago. A lady anxiously waiting the arrival of her husband, from Ireland, at the miserable village of Hubberstone, soon interested even the meaner inhabitants of the place in her behalf; who willing to render her situation as comfortable as possible, seemed to vie with each other in producing the most delicious fruits, and the choicest garlands of flowers, to present them to the unhappy consort; and not content alone with this, she was generally greeted in the streets, with the phrase, “There goes poor Mrs. L—.” The lady, at last, impatient for the arrival of her husband, determined to sail for Ireland. The faithfulness of the little group that accompanied her to the shore, can better be imagined than described; the last farewell, with tears of artless innocence, and the beseeching that Providence “who governs the waves, and stills the raging of the sea,” to grant her a prosperous voyage; all this seemed to come so thoroughly from the bottom of their hearts, that we cannot avoid feeling ourselves interested in their behalf.

The road from hence to

HARLECH,

is stony and uninteresting; to the left an unbounded view of the wide ocean, and in front, the steep mountains of North Wales rose in endless perspective. About four miles from Barmouth, we passed the two lodges at Tal-y-bont, leading to Cors-y-gedol, the seat of Sir Thomas Mostyn. It is practicable to go by the sands, but we were given to understand, by Mrs. Lewis, that the turnpike was, if any thing, shorter, the scenery more pleasing, and the guides necessary for crossing those dangerous sands, in general, most complete villains.

Harlech, though formed by Edward I. into a borough, can now be esteemed little more than a dirty village: the present castle, one of the most entire in Wales, is founded on a very high rock, projecting in the Irish Sea, and defended by a deep foss on the east side; below it is a marsh of considerable extent, occasionally overflowed by the sea; from the top of the walls to this marsh the height is very considerable, and from thence the Bay of Cardigan is seen to great advantage; in addition to this, the shagged summits of Cader Buchan and Snowdon, in Caernarvonshire, being enveloped in clouds, appear scarcely visible.

At the public-house, we accidentally met with a well-informed man, who minutely delineated every part of the castle; beginning with the founder, in the true characteristic style of a Welchman, run through his pedigree several generations: this, however, did not interest us, cursory pedestrians; and with little persuasion we soon induced him to write down, in as concise a manner as possible, any information he was acquainted with respecting the castle: “The founder of Harlech Castle, A.D. 552, was Maclegwynn; Gwynead made Caer Dugoll (Shrewsbury;) Caer Gyffin (Aber Conway;) Caer Gollwyn (Harleck) supposed to be buried in Cirester, and reigned thirty-four years.” Whether this information is correct, I will not take upon me to assert; but meeting with a Welchman, in this part of the country, capable of writing, rather surprised us, and induced me to transcribe this short paragraph.

The double gate-way, with four strong towers, is still very perfect; and the whole in sufficient repair, to form a conjecture of its ancient extent and grandeur. It was originally supposed to have been a Roman town, a conjecture founded on the great number of coins, and other pieces of antiquity, which have been found here, and in the neighbourhood.

In 1408 it was taken by the Earl of Pembroke; and afforded likewise shelter to Margaret of Anjour, after the battle of Northampton, 1460, and was the last in North-Wales, which held out for the King, being surrendered to General Mytton, 1647.

In a garden near this castle was dug up, in the year 1692, an ancient golden torques, of a round form, an inch in circumference, and weighing eight ounces. This curious relick of British antiquity, exhibited in a drawing by Mr. Pennant, still continues in the possession of the Mostyn family. As we had not an opportunity of examining the original, this account can only be gathered from the information of former authors, who represent it, as “a wreathed bar, or rather three or four rods twisted together, about four feet long, flexible, but bending naturally only one way, in form of a hat-band: it originally had holes at each end, not twitted or sharp, but plain, and cut even.”

In 1694, the prodigious phenomenon of fire, or kindled exhalation, which disturbed the inhabitants of this neighbourhood, is both singular and extraordinary; sixteen ricks of hay, and two barns, were burnt by a kindled exhalation, or blue weak flame, proceeding from the sea: this lasted about a fortnight or three weeks, poisoning the grass, and firing it for the space of a mile. It is extraordinary, that it had no effect on the men, who interposed their endeavours to save the ricks from destruction, even by running into it. For a more accurate account of this singular phenomenon, I refer my readers to the Philosophical Transactions, No. 208, and likewise to the Addenda, in Cambden: suffice it to say, that the air and grass was so infected, that it occasioned a great mortality of cattle, horses, sheep, and goats. The various conjectures that have been formed, to account for this kindled exhalation, seem to be very unsatisfactory; something similar to this, both in the appearance and in the effect, happened in France in the year 1734.

As, from the unfavourableness of the weather, we had not contemplated the rich scenery between Barmouth and Dolgelly, with that nice investigation which it deserved, we determined, by again returning to our obliging landlady at the Cors-y-gedol Arms, to seize the opportunity of again admiring its beauties; and, by taking a more circuitous route to the Vale of Festiniog, pay that attention to the Falls of Doll-y-mullin, Moddach, and Caen, which they so deservedly require.

This second saunter we found by no means tedious: the scene seemed perpetually changing at every unexpected curvature of the road; and the rude features of the mountains appeared to assume new forms, as the winding presented them to the eye in different attitudes, whilst the shifting vapours, which partially concealed their minuter grandeur, assisted the illusions of the sight. Amidst new woods, rising in the majesty of foliage, the scattered cottage, with its bluish smoke curling high in the air, was frequently rendered interesting by its neat simplicity: and served to constitute the romantic beauties of this picturesque saunter.

This pleasing scenery varied little till we arrived within two miles of Dolgelly, when several gentlemens’ seats burst upon our sight; and leaving that enchanting spot to the left, at the Laneltyd turnpike, a different object presented itself to our view. For four miles we walked by the side of a hill, the most translucent stream attending us the whole way; for though the road was situated so much above it, yet the sandy bottom, with the finny tribe, in considerable numbers, sporting in this transparent element, were easily descried. On each side, the mountains rose to a considerable height, with the craggy summit of Cader Idris claiming the pre-eminence. We soon arrived at the small ale-house (Traveller’s Rest) where we met the labourer of Mr. Madox, whom we were recommended to enquire for, as a proper ciceroni to the water-falls in his vicinity. Having finished our scanty but wholesome repast, we repaired with an old woman, the labourer being confined to the house by indisposition, to the fall of Doll-y-mullin. There appeared to be something singular in the appearance of this “mountain elf;” destitute of shoes and stockings, in the true Cambrian stile, she trip’d it, occasionally singing, and sometimes discontented with the world, herself, and every thing, uttering a most dismal groan. This excited our curiosity; but to learn much of her situation we soon found impracticable; her knowledge of the English language was very trivial; and as she seemed not much inclined to give us any information respecting the adjacent country, we found it useless to make enquiries concerning her condition in life.

Our surly conductress first led us through Mr. Madox’s grounds; to the left of the Tan-y-bwlch road, by a most delightful walk cut through the wood, we now soon reached the falls of Doll-y-mullin, the roaring of which had a long time announced its vicinity. This cataract, though considered only as a prelude to the grand falls of the Cayne and Moddach, is still worthy the attention of the passing traveller; for though the river precipitates itself not more than fifty feet, yet the projection and situation of the rocks, and the thick oak, carelessly throwing its broad brown arms across the troubled waters, is singularly pleasing. We had hitherto only contemplated this scene from the foot of the fall; but how noble the effect, when we began to wind up the steep ascent, and paused at every bason, which the water had formed in the excavated rock.

By a retrograde saunter we soon gained the Tan-y-bwlch road, and passing over the romantic bridge of Pont ar Garfa, beautifully entwined with the rich drapery of ivy, we ascended a steep path over the slaty mountain of Tylyn Gwladys, two miles in extent.—Sublimity, indeed, gave place to elegance; behind us, the huge steeps of Cader Idris, lifting high above the rolling clouds its shaggy head, of which at intervals, we caught a glance through the thick mist which enveloped it; in front Snowdon, conscious of pre-eminence, rose in the distant perspective; these were the boundaries of our view. On the opposite side a barren mountain, dignified by the name of Prince of Wales, appeared scarcely accessible, but to the steps of the enthusiast; this formerly afforded a vast quantity of ore, but it has lately so much failed, as not to produce even a sufficiency to remunerate the miners. While traversing these barren mountains, it is not less singular than interesting, occasionally to meet the most delicious vallies, watered by some foaming river; these literally surcharged

“With weighted rains, and melted Alpine snows.”

Such is the true characteristic of the Welch scenery: the finest verdure, and the most enchanting vallies are discovered in the bosom of sterility, where natural cascades, precipitating themselves from their rude pinnacles, alone disturb the silence which reigns in that asylum, only to render it more enchanting to the inquisitive pedestrians, for these landscapes are only accessible to their steps: the distant swell of the cataract had now long proclaimed our proximity to the object in pursuit. The falls of the Cayne and the Moddach are at no great distance from one another, being only separated by a thick wood. Crossing a small bridge, above fifty feet from the water, formed only by the trunk of an oak, which has accidentally fallen across the rapid torrent; our conductress very judiciously selected the latter as the first object for our admiration. The computed measurement of this fall is estimated between seventy and eighty feet, dividing itself into three distinct parts, each finely broken by the projected rocks: the quantity of water is very inconsiderable; but the whole is admirably presented to the eye in one view. The first fall, about twenty feet, precipitates itself into a deep pool, thirty feet diameter; from thence over a second ledge, thirty feet high; and, lastly, it discharges itself into a pool of considerable dimensions. The declivities of the rocks are luxuriantly clothed with wood; the oak more particularly spreading its gigantic arms across the foaming torrent: a variety of trees, indeed, profusely embellish the whole of this glen, which are finely contrasted with the dark brown rocks; constituting so finished a picture, and representing such a variety of colours, that their beauties the imagination can better conceive, than the pen describe.

We now returned to the fall of the Cayne, infinitely superior to any in Wales, being two hundred feet perpendicular, uninterrupted by rocks, and not intercepted by the thick wood which encircles it. For a considerable time we both of us gazed with that wrapt admiration, which loathes to be disturbed by the mutual exchange of our ideas; and stunned with the continual uproar, and never-ceasing tumultuous motion of the sparkling foam, we silently admired the grandeur of the landscape. On each side the horrific crags seemed to bid defiance to the goat’s activity. The Cayne, after this stunning cataract, throws its troubled waters over a rocky bed, till it unites itself with the Moddach below.

With reluctance we left this romantic situation; and, according to the directions of our conductress, soon found ourselves in the turnpike road to Tan-y-bwlch, understanding that Mr. Warner’s route to Pen-street afforded indifferent walking. Stupendous mountains attended us some way; and, to borrow a description from a celebrated author, they “looked like the rude materials of creation, forming the barrier of unwrought space.” The sun was now making a “golden set;” the mountains were thrown together in noble masses, appearing to scale the heavens, to intercept its rays, and emulous to receive the parting tinge of lingering day. We were watching with admiration the mild splendour of its light, fading from the distant landscape, when we perceived the rich vale of Festiniog suddenly open itself to our view: we observed the busy group of haymakers, who had completed their day’s labour, returning to their homes:

“While heard from dale to dale, Waking the breeze, resounds the blended voice Of happy labour, love and social glee.”

Pleased with this rustic scene, we caught the cheerful song, which was wafted on the gentle breeze. With pleasure we anticipated a saunter through this vale, early the ensuing morning; for one tint of sober gray had now covered its various coloured features, and the sun had now gleamed its last light upon the rivulet which winds through the bottom.

TAN-Y-BWLCH.

The “rich-hair’d youth of morn” had not long left its saffron bed, and the very air was balmy as it freshened into morn, when we hurried from our Inn to enjoy the luxuries of the Vale of Festiniog, so well celebrated by the pen of Lord Littleton. “With the woman one loves, with the friend of one’s heart, (says his Lordship) and a good study of books, one may pass an age there, and think it a day. If one has a mind to live long, and renew his youth, let him come and settle at Festiniog.” These are the sentiments of Lord Littleton, in which seemed to be verified the situation of Mr. Oakley, who has selected this spot for his residence. Tan-y-bwlch Hall, (for by that name is Mr. Oakley’s Seat dignified) is environed by a thick wood, which climbs the steep mountains behind his mansion. We followed the meandering and translucent waters of the river Dryryd, till we arrived at the Village of Maentwrog, situated about the middle of this Paradise. Passing through the village, we observed a small but neat cottage, which was rendered interesting to the way-farer by its neat simplicity. Perceiving a stand of fruit at the door, we were enticed to enter the cottage, where we found the interior of the house as comfortable, as the situation was interesting. A large old-fashioned chimney corner, with benches to receive a social party, formed a most enviable retreat from the rude storms of winter, and defied alike the weather and the world:—with what pleasure did I picture,

“A smiling circle, emulous to please,”

gathering round a blazing pile of wood on the hearth, free from all the vicissitudes and cares of the world, happy in their own home, blessed in the sweet affections of kindred amity, regardless of the winter blast that struggled against the window, and the snow that pelted against the roof. On our entering, the wife who possessed “the home of happiness, an honest breast,” invited us “to take a seat” under the window, which overlooking the village, and the dark tower of the church, offered the delights of other seasons. The sweets of a little garden, joined its fragrance to the honeysuckle, which enwreathed with rich drapery the windows; and here too lay the old family Bible, which had been put aside on our first entrance; we regretted, not having an opportunity of seeing the husband, whom, I make no doubt

“Envied not, and never thought of kings, Nor from those appetites sustain’d annoy, That chance may frustrate, or indulgence cloy; Each season look’d delightful as it past, To the fond husband, and the faithful wife.”

Our intended route for this day being very short, we did not leave Tan-y-bwlch till after breakfast, and even then lingered through the valley, to take one last adieu of this paradisiacal spot; the Dryryd serpentizing through the meadows, and the lively green of the swelling declivities on each side, beautifully contrasted with the ripening corn. From the vast quantity of ore we discovered, I am inclined to believe, that any spirited speculator would find it amply repay him for the expences and labour attending his speculations. The vale of Festiniog, not exceeding three miles long, and one in breadth, is a very rich tract of land.

An extremely rough, rocky, and unpleasant road, with nothing to engage our attention; and the country uncultivated, and diverted of every thing that gives, even the shadow of civilization, brought us to the far-famed Pont Aber-glaslyn, or, The Bridge of the Harbour of the Blue Lake; and not uncommonly styled, the Devil’s Bridge. This last appellation has very frequently misled strangers, who, confounding it with the well-known bridge at Havod, have been much disappointed, their expectations being raised very high, from the general descriptions of that place. Of this, indeed, we found an instance on the very spot. This bridge connects the two counties of Merionethshire and Caernarvonshire; being, from the parapet to the water, forty feet. From the description of former tourists, it did not answer our expectations; but the salmon-leap is an interesting object from the bridge: the height is about fifteen feet; and though we observed very many attempt this surprising feat of agility, not one succeeded. Some fishermen below soon excited our curiosity, and salmon was here offered for sale at three-pence per pound.

An intelligent man here offered himself as our guide to the rich Copper-mines, in the vicinity of Pont Aber-Glaslyn. This miner, having worked both here and at the Paris mountain, confidently asserted, that one pound of this ore was now esteemed equivalent to twice the quantity, produced in Anglesea. Stupendous cliffs, by the road side, literally rise eight hundred and sixty feet perpendicularly, and hang in the most capricious forms over the torrent, which, straggling amongst the recesses of stone, is hastening forward to disembogue itself into the estuary of Traeth Mawr. The pass is not more than seventy feet; after much rain it is entirely inundated by the overflowings of the Glaslyn, which reflected, as in a mirror, the blackness of the impending cliffs. On the Caernarvonshire side are several lead mines; but they have not proved sufficiently rich, to reward the labour of working.

The situation of our Inn at

BEDDGELERT,

is very romantic, and would form an interesting drawing, by taking in a small bridge of two arches below the house. It is completely encircled by lofty mountains, which may be considered as subject to the “cloud-capt Snowdon.”

How often has the idea of this stupendous mountain filled my heart with enthusiastic rapture! Every time I cast my eyes on that solemn, that majestic vision, it is not without the most powerful emotion; it excites that tender melancholy, which exalts, rather than depresses the mind! How delightful, to bid adieu to all the cares and occupations of the world, for the reflection of those scenes of sublimity and grandeur, which forms such contrast to the transientness of sublunary greatness! With what anxiety have we watched the setting sun, loitering just below the horizon, and illuminating the highest summit of Snowdon with a golden tinge, and we still watch the passing clouds of night, fearing lest the morning should prove unfavourable for our Alpine excursion.

SNOWDON.

We engaged the Miner, as our Conductor over the mountain, who entertained us much with displaying, in strong colours, the tricks and impositions of his brother guides, and more particularly of the methodistical Landlord of our Inn, who is generally employed on these occasions. His pride too is not a little elevated, by having conducted The Great Doctor to its highest summit; this seemingly ridiculous phrase for some time puzzled us; but we have since found out, that our guide was talking of no less a man, than the present respectable and learned Dean of Christchurch, who ascended this mountain last year. Though our guide [105] was pompous, and rather too partial to the marvellous, yet I strenuously recommend him to all tourists.

At half past twelve, we started from our Inn, determined to see the sun rise from its highest summit. The night was now very dark, and we could just discover, that the top of Snowdon was entirely enveloped in a thick, impenetrable mist: this unpropitious omen staggered our resolutions; and we for some time hesitated respecting our farther progress; but our guide assuring us, that his comfortable cottage was not far distant, we again plucked up resolution; and quitting the highway about two miles on the Caernarvon road, we turned to the right, through a boggy unpleasant land, and in danger of losing our shoes every step we took. This soon brought us to the comfortable cot, the filth and dirtiness of which can better be imagined than described; a worm-eaten bed, two small stools, and a table fixed to the wall, composed the whole of his furniture,—two fighting cocks were perched on a beam, which Thomas seemed to pride himself in the possession of; the smoke of the fire ascended through a small hole in the roof of this comfortable mansion, the door of which did not appear proof against the “churlish chiding of the winter blast.”

Such, indeed, was the situation of this Cambrian mountaineer; and though, in our own opinion, misery, poverty, and dirt personified, seemed to be the real inhabitants of this cottage, yet there was something prepossessing in his character; for frequently, with the greatest vehemence imaginable, and in the true stile of an anchorite, he declared, that “though he boasted not riches, yet he boasted of independence; and though he possessed not wealth, yet he possessed the home of happiness, an honest breast.”

The morning appearing to wear a more favourable aspect, we again sallied forth; the bogs, however, still rendered it extremely unpleasant. But this inconvenience was only temporary: we soon came to a part of the mountain, entirely composed of loose stones, and fragments of rock, which, by affording a very treacherous footing, you are liable to perpetual falls. The mountain now became much steeper, the path less rocky, and our mountaineer, the higher we proceeded, more induced to exhibit feats of his agility, by occasionally running down a short precipice, and then, by a loud shout or vociferation, shewing us the obedience of the sheep, who instantaneously flocked round him, at the sound of his voice: it is singular, the caution implanted in this animal, by instinct, for the mutual protection of each other; from the liberty they enjoy, they seldom congregate in one flock, but are generally discovered grazing in parties from six to a dozen, one of which is regularly appointed centinel, to watch the motions of their inveterate enemies (foxes and birds of prey), which infest this mountain. A wider expanse of the hemisphere disclosed itself, and every object below us gradually diminished, as we ascended. The freshness of the mountain whetted our appetites; and our conductor, with very little persuasion, soon influenced us to open our little basket of provisions. The sun, the “rich-hair’d youth of morn,” was just peeping from its bed; and having refreshed ourselves, with eager impatience we again climbed the rugged precipice, for we had still a considerable height to ascend. We now descended several steep declivities, by a narrow path, not more than three yards wide, with a dreadful perpendicular on each side, the sight of which almost turned us giddy. As we were passing this hazardous path, a thick mist enveloped us, and an impenetrable abyss appeared on both sides; the effect, indeed, can scarcely be conceived; our footing to us, puisne mountaineers, seemed very insecure; and a total destruction would have been the consequence of one false step. The air grew intensely cold, and by our guide’s recommendation, we a second time produced our pistol of rum, diluted with milk; but this cordial must be used with caution, as a very small quantity of strong liquor affects the head, owing to the rarification of the air. On our reaching the summit, all our difficulties were forgotten, and our imaginary complaints overborne with exclamations of wonder, surprise, and admiration. The light thin misty cloud, which had for some time enveloped us, as if by enchantment, suddenly dispersed; the whole ocean appeared illuminated by a fiery substance, and all the subject hills below us, for they resembled mole-hills, were gradually tinged by the rich glow of the sun; whose orb, becoming at length distinctly visible, displayed the whole island of Anglesea so distinctly, that we descried, as in map, its flat and uncultivated plains, bounded by the rich and inexhaustible Paris Mountains, in the vicinity of Holyhead. The point on which we were standing, did not exceed a square of five yards, and we sickened almost at the sight of the steep precipices which environed us; round it is a small parapet, formed by the customary tribute of all strangers, who visit this summit, and to which we likewise contributed, by placing a large stone on its top: this parapet, indeed, sheltered us from the chilly cold, and protected us from the piercing wind, which this height must naturally be exposed to.

We remained in this situation for a considerable time, and endeavoured, without success, to enumerate the several lakes, forest, woods, and counties, which were exposed to us in one view; but, lost and confounded with the innumerable objects worthy of admiration, and regardless of the chilling cold, we took a distinct survey of the Isle of Man, together with a faint prospect of the highlands in Ireland, which appeared just visibly skirting the distant horizon; but another object soon engrossed all our attention;

“The wide, the unbounded prospects lay before us; But shadows, clouds, and darkness rest upon it:”

For we unexpectedly observed long billows of vapour tossing about, half way down the mountain, totally excluding the country below, and occasionally dispersing, and partially revealing, its features, while above, the azure expanse of the heavens remained un-obscured by the thinnest mist. This, however, was of no long continuance: a thick cloud presently wet us through; and the point on which we were standing could alone be distinguished. As there appeared little or no chance of the clouds dispersing, we soon commenced our descent.—Respecting this Alpine excursion, suffice it to say, that though our expectations were raised exceedingly high, it infinitely surpassed all conception, and baffled all description; for no colour of language can paint the grandeur of the rising sun, observed from this eminence, or describe the lakes, woods, and forests, which are extended before you; for description, though it enumerates their names, yet it cannot draw the elegance of outline, cannot give the effect of precipices, or delineate the minute features, which reward the actual observer, at every new choice of his position, and by changing their colour and form in his gradual ascent, till at last every object dwindles into atoms: in short, this interesting excursion, which comprehends every thing that is awful, grand, and sublime, producing the most pleasing sensations, has left traces in the memory, which the imagination will ever hold dear.

Various have been the conjectures on the definition of this mountain; some authors affirm, that the Welch name of Snowdon signifies the Eagle’s Rocks, deducing it from the number of those birds that formerly haunted these rocks; but the most simple conjecture seems to be, that this name alludes to the frequency of the snow on the highest peaks. This mountainous tract was formerly celebrated for its fertility and woods; and Leland affirms, that all Crigereri was forest. It now yields no corn; and its produce consists in cattle and black sheep, with large flocks of goats. “Its height (says Pennant) has been variously reported. Mr. Caswell, who was employed by Mr. Adams, in a survey of Wales, 1682, measured it by instruments, made by the direction of Mr. Flamstead, and asserts it to have been one thousand two hundred and forty. Mr. Lluyd says, its perpendicular height is about one thousand three hundred yards above the sea level; but later experiments have ascertained it at one thousand one hundred and eighty-nine yards, reckoning from the quay at Caernarvon, to the highest peak.” The ascent is computed three miles; the extremity, or summit, three quarters of a mile perpendicular. By the inhabitants of the country it is called Moel-y-Wydva, i.e. The Conspicuous Hill; and sometimes Krag Ey reri; and in the old English maps it is always spelt Snawdon. The lakes in this tract amount to a considerable number, and abound with trout, eels, gwyniadd, and some of them well-stored with char. The most noted peaks of this mountain are distinguished by the names Moel-y-Wydva, y-Glyder, Karmedh Dhavidh, and Karmedh Llewelyn.—These hills are, in a manner, heaped on one another, near the summit; and we only climbed one rock, to see three or four more; between each is a cwm, or valley, generally with a lake. We made particular enquiries concerning y-Glyder-Bach, and found that the description of it is by no means exaggerated. Several columnar stones, of enormous size, formed into the most fantastical shapes, and lying in several directions, with many of their tops crowned with stones, placed horizontally on them. One we observed rocked with the slightest touch. In the fissures of the rock, cubic pyritæ, are not uncommonly found; the saxifraga nivalis, and the species called by Linnæus æthereal, in great abundance.

The first two miles of our descent, we by no means found difficult, but wishing to take a minute survey of the picturesque pass of Llanberris, we changed the route generally prescribed to strangers, and descended a rugged and almost perpendicular path, in opposition to the proposals of our guide, who strenuously endeavoured to dissuade us from the attempt, alleging the difficulty of the steep, and relating a melancholy story of a gentleman, who many years back had broken his leg. This had no effect. We determined to proceed; and the vale of Llanberris amply rewarded us for the trouble. It is bounded by the steep precipices of Snowdon, and two large lakes, communicating by a river. It was formerly a large forest, but the woods are now entirely cut down. We here dismissed our Cambrian mountaineer, and easily found our way to Dolbadern (pronounced Dolbathern) Castle, situated between the two lakes, and now reduced to one circular tower, thirty feet in diameter, with the foundations of the exterior buildings completely in ruins; in this, Owen Gough, brother to Llewellin, last prince, was confined in prison. From hence a rugged horse-path brought us to the Caernarvon turnpike-road, about six miles distant; the high towers of the castle, the very crown and paragon of the landscape, at last pointed out the situation of

CAERNARVON;

and having crossed a handsome modern stone-bridge, thrown over the river Rhydol, and built by “Harry Parry, the modern Inigo, Anno Domini 1791,” we soon entered this ancient town, very much fatigued with our long excursion. The Hotel, newly built by Lord Uxbridge, for the convenience of strangers, at the end of the town, commands a fine prospect of the Strait of Menai. The view was bounded by the flat Isle of Anglesea; while the light vessels, skimming before the wind, gave the whole a lively and pleasing variety.

The city of Caernarvon, beautifully situated, and regularly built, is in the form of a square, enclosed on three sides, with thick stone walls; and on the south side, defended by the castle;—the old town-hall is now falling to ruin.

With respect to the castle, we by no means agree with Mr. Warner, that “its high antiquity and ancient splendour is interrupted and destroyed by the patch-work of modern separation, and the littleness of a cottager’s domestic œconomy seen within its walls;” as it is only repaired, where necessity required it, to prop up its crumbling ruins; neither could we discover any cottage within its walls. The towers are extremely elegant; but not being entwined with ivy, do not wear that picturesque appearance, which castles generally possess. Over the principal entrance, which leads into an oblong court, is seated, beneath a great tower, the statue of the founder, holding in his left hand a dagger: this gate-way was originally fortified with four portcullises. At the west end, the eagle tower, remarkably light and beautiful, in a polygon form; three small hexagon turrets rising from the middle, with eagles placed on their battlements; from thence it derives its name. In a little dark room [114] in this tower, measuring eleven feet by seven, was born Edward the Second, April 25, 1204. The thickness of the wall is about ten feet. To the top of the tower we reckoned one hundred and fifty-eight steps, from whence an extensive view of the adjacent country is seen to great advantage. On the south are three octagonal towers with small turrets, with similar ones on the north. All these towers communicate with each other by a gallery, both on the ground, middle, and upper floor, formed within the immense thickness of the walls, in which are cut narrow slips, at convenient distances, for the discharge of arrows.

This building, founded on a rock, is the work of Edward I. the conqueror of the principality; the form of it is a long irregular square, enclosing an area of about two acres and a half. From the information of the Sebright manuscript, Mr. Pennant says, that by the united efforts of the peasants, it was erected within the space of one year.

Having spent near three hours surveying one of the noblest castles in Wales, we walked round the environs of the town: the terrace round the castle walls is exceedingly pleasing, being in front of the Menai, which is here upwards of a mile in breadth, forming a safe harbour for craft of five or six tons, and generally crowded with vessels, exhibiting a picture of national industry; whilst near it a commodious quay presents an ever-bustling scene, from whence a considerable quantity of slate, and likewise copper from the Llanberris mine, is shipped for different parts of the kingdom.

Caernarvon may certainly be considered as one of the handsomest and largest towns in North-Wales; and under the patronage of Lord Uxbridge promises to become still more populous and extensive: his Lordship, we were given to understand by our landlord, intends to erect sea-baths; and by this well-planned improvement, induce company to resort here during the summer months.

Several excursions may be made from Caernarvon with great satisfaction to the Tourist; the principal of which is a visit to

PLAS-NEWYDD,

the elegant seat of Lord Uxbridge, situated in the Isle of Anglesey, and distant about six miles from Caernarvon: if the wind and tide prove favourable, the picturesque scenery of the Menai, will be viewed to great advantage, by hiring a boat at the quay. [116] But if this most advisable plan should not be approved of, the walk to the Mol-y-don Ferry, about five miles on the Bangor road, will prove highly gratifying: the Menai, whose banks are studded with gentlemens’ seats, appearing scarcely visible between the rich foliage of the oak, which luxuriates to the water’s brink, is filled with vessels, whose gay streamers, glittering to the sun-beam, present to the eye a constant, moving object; whilst the voice of the sailors, exchanging some salute with the passing vessel, is gently wafted on the breeze.

Crossing the ferry, we soon reached the ancient residence of the Arch-Druid of Britain, and where was formerly stationed the most celebrated of the ancient British Academies; from this circumstance, many places in this island still retain their original appellation, as Myfyrim, the Place of Studies; Caer Edris, the City of Astronomy; Cerrig Boudyn, the Astronomer’s Circle. The shore to the right soon brought us to the Plantations of Plâs-Newydd, consisting chiefly of the most venerable oaks, and noblest ash in this part of the country.

“—Superior to the pow’r Of all the warring winds of heaven they rise; And from the stormy promontory tower, And toss their giant arms amid the skies; While each assailing blast increasing strength supplies.”

Beattie’s Minstrel.

Beneath their “broad brown” branches, we discovered several cromlechs, the monuments of Druidical superstition; several stones of enormous size support two others placed horizontally over them. [118] For what purpose these ancient relicks were originally erected, it was not for us puisne antiquarians to discuss, and with eager impatience we hurried to visit the noble mansion, which has not yet received the finishing stroke of the architect; sufficient however is accomplished to form a conjecture of its intended splendour and magnificence. The whole is built, stables included, in a Gothic castellated form, of a dark slate-coloured stone; on entering the vestibule, we, for a short time, imagined ourselves in the chapel, a mistake, though soon discovered, yet liable to happen to any visitor; the ceiling having Gothic arches, with a gallery suitable to it, and several niches cut in the side walls: we were next conduced through a long suite of apartments, the design of them all equally convenient and elegant. The landscape from the Gothic windows is both beautiful and sublime; a noble plantation of trees, the growth of ages—the winding strait of the Menai, gay with vessels passing and repassing; and beyond this tranquil scene, the long range of the Snowdon mountains shooting into the clouds, the various hues of whose features appear as beautiful, as their magnitude is sublime. The house is protected from the encroachment of the sea, by a strong parapet embattled wall; in fine, this magnificent seat of Lord Uxbridge, seems to possess many conveniencies peculiar to its situation: the warm and cold baths, constantly filled by the Menai, are sequestered and commodious, and every apartment of the house is abundantly supplied with water. [119a]

Being unavoidably prevented visiting the celebrated Paris mountain, the property of Lord Uxbridge and the Rev. Mr. Hughes, we again returned to the Hotel, at Caernarvon, purporting to stay the following day, (Sunday) for the purpose of making a strict enquiry into the religious sect, settled here, and in many parts of Wales, called Jumpers. [119b] The account we had received from our landlord, we imagined was exaggerated, and this more strongly induced us to visit the chapel, that we might be enabled, in future, to contradict this ridiculous report.

At six in the evening the congregation assembled, and on our entrance into the chapel, we observed on the north side, from a sort of stage or pulpit, erected on the occasion, a man, in appearance, a common day-labourer, holding forth to an ignorant and deluded multitude. Our entrance at first, seemed to excite a general dissatisfaction; and our near neighbours, as if conscious of their eccentricities, muttered bitter complaints against the admittance of strangers. The chapel, which was not divided into pews, and even destitute of seats, contained near an hundred people; half way round was erected a gallery. The preacher continued raving, and, indeed, foaming at the mouth, in a manner too shocking to relate:—he allowed himself no time to breathe, but seemingly intoxicated, uttered the most dismal howls and groans imaginable, which were answered by the congregation, so loud, as occasionally to drown even the voice of the preacher. At last, being nearly exhausted by continual vociferation, and fainting from exertion, he sunk down in the pulpit: the meeting, however, did not disperse; a psalm was immediately sung by a man, who, we imagine, officiated as clerk, accompanied by the whole congregation. The psalm had not continued long, before we observed part of the assembly, to our great surprise, jumping in small parties of three, four, and sometimes five in a set, lifting up their hands, beating their breasts, and making the most horrid gesticulations. Each individual separately jumped, regularly succeeding one another, while the rest generally assisted the jumper by the help of their hands. The women always appeared more vehement than the men, and infinitely surpassed them in numbers; seeming to endeavour to excel each other in jumping, screaming, and howling. We observed, indeed, that many of them lost their shoes, hats, and bonnets, with the utmost indifference, and never condescended to search after them; in this condition, it is not unusual to meet them jumping to their homes. Their meetings are twice a week, Wednesdays and Sundays. Having accidentally met with a gentleman, at the Hotel, a native of Siberia, we invited him to our party, and, induced by curiosity, he readily accompanied us to the chapel. On the commencement of the jumping, he intreated us to quit the congregation, exclaiming, “Good God! I for a moment forgot I was in a Christian country; the dance of the Siberians, in the worship of the Lama, with their shouts and gesticulations, is not more horrid!” This observation so forcibly struck me, that I could not avoid inserting it in my note-book.

With disgust we left the chapel, and were given to understand, by our landlord, they celebrate a particular day every year, when instances have been known of women dying by too great an exertion; and fainting is frequently the consequence of their excessive jumping.

This sect is by no means confined to the town of Caernarvon, but in many villages, and in several market towns, both in North and South Wales, [122a] they have established regular chapels. “They have” (says a correspondent to the Gentleman’s Magazine, [122b]) “periodical meetings in many of the larger towns, to which they come from thirty to forty miles round. At one, held in Denbigh, about last April, there were, I believe, upwards of four thousand people, from different parts. At another, held in Bala, soon afterwards, nearly double that number were supposed to be present.” The last number appears rather to be exaggerated, though the latter, being dated from Denbigh, should be considered as authoritative.

Another correspondent to the Gentleman’s Magazine, gives the following information respecting the sect: “That they are not a distinct sect, but Methodists, of the same persuasion as the late Mr. Whitfield; for though there are several congregations of Wesleyan Methodists, in this country, there is no such custom amongst them. But jumping during religious worship is no new thing amongst the other party, having (by what I can learn) been practised by them for many years past. I have seen some of their pamphlets, in the Welch language, in which this custom is justified by the example of David, who danced before the ark; and of the lame man, restored by our blessed Saviour, at the gate of the Temple, who leaped for joy.” How far this gentleman’s account may be accurate, I leave for others to decide; it is certainly to be lamented, in a country where the Christian Religion is preached in a stile of the greatest purity and simplicity, that those poor ignorant deluded wretches should be led to a form of worship so dissonant to the Established Church of England, and, indeed, by a poor ignorant fellow, devoid of education, and devoid of sense.

The same road we had so much admired the preceding Saturday, soon brought us to

BANGOR,

the supposed scite of the Bovium, or Bonium, a Roman station, and celebrated for the most ancient British monastery, which contained two thousand four hundred monks: it has long retained its British name, Bangor, or Bancher, signifying “a beautiful quire;” an appellation it justly merits. The situation is deeply secluded, “far from the bustle of a jarring world,” and must have accorded well with monastic melancholy; for the Monks, emerging from their retired cells, might here indulge in that luxurious melancholy, which the prospect inspires, and which would sooth the asperities which the severe discipline of superstition inflicted on them. The situation of Banchor appears more like a scene of airy enchantment, than reality, and the residences of the canons are endeared to the votaries of landscape by the prospect they command. On the opposite shore, the town of Beaumaris is straggling up the steep declivity, with its quay crowded with vessels, and all appeared bustle and confusion; the contrast which the nearer prospect inspired, was too evident to escape our notice, where the

Oak, whose boughs were moss’d with age, And high top bald with dry antiquity,

afforded a seat for the contemplation of the wide expanse of the ocean, which is seen beyond the little Island of Puffin, or Priestholm; so called, from the quantity of birds of that species, which resort here in the summer-months.

The cathedral has been built at different times, but no part very ancient; it was made an episcopal see, about the time of the conquest: the church was burnt down by Owen Glendwr, in the reign of Henry IV. the choir was afterwards built by Bishop Henry Dene, [125a] between 1496 and 1500; the tower and nave by Bishop Skevington, 1532. The whole is Gothic architecture, with no other particular ornament to distinguish it from a common English parish church. There are, however, several bishops [125b] buried in the choir. I could dwell with pleasure on the picturesque beauties of this little episcopal see; but a repetition of the same epithets grand, beautiful, sublime, fine, with a long catalogue, which must necessarily occur, would appear tautologous on paper, though their archetypes in nature would assume new colours at every change of position of the beholder. From this retirement, a ferry-boat soon conveyed us to

BEAUMARIS,

the largest and best built town in Anglesea, where the same busy scene occurred. Having taken a short survey of Baron Hill, the seat of Lord Bulkley, commanding a fine prospect of the ocean, with the huge promontory of Pen-mawn-maur, we were soon convinced, that there was nothing to require a longer stay; and returning to Bangor, we pursued the road to Conway. About two miles on our left, we parted the Park and Castle of Penrhyn, the seat of Lord Penrhyn: this has lately been considerably enlarged and repaired, under the judicious direction of Mr. Wyat. The entrance is remarkably elegant, resembling a triumphal arch. This mansion enjoys a boundless prospect of the ocean on one side, appearing but feebly restrained by a long tract of scarcely visible coast on the other; in front, the flat Island of Anglesea, the lofty Pen-mawn-mawr, and the extensive point of Caernarvonshire: whilst the neat Church of Landegai forms a nearer object for admiration. We soon reached the dark lowering promontory of Pen-mawn-mawr, about eight miles from Bangor, rising perpendicularly, in a massy wall, to the height of one thousand four hundred feet: huge fragments of shattered rock are scattered by the side of the road, and a wall, scarcely five feet high, alone protects a carriage from the steep precipice; which, from the slightness of the foundation, has even fallen down in many parts. In this awfully sublime situation we remained for some time, astonished at the bold protuberance of the rocks, which seemed to project their dark sides, to augment the idle roar of the waves.

Pursuing a good turnpike-road, we soon came in sight of the hoary towers of

CONWAY CASTLE.

An air of proud sublimity, united with singular wildness, characterises the place. The evening was far advanced; and part of its ruins were shining with the purple glow of the setting sun, whose remaining features stood in darkened majesty, when we entered this monument of desolation. Passing over a plank, originally the scite of the draw-bridge, we came into the outward court, strongly defended with battlements; from thence we examined the grand entrance of the castle, with several abutments projecting forward, similar in stile to Caernarvon. On the south side of the court is the grand hall, measuring an hundred and thirty feet by thirty-two, with eight light Gothic arches, five of which are still in good condition. On one end is the chapel with a large window, a beautiful specimen of Gothic architecture. It is founded on the solid rock, by Edward I. in the year 1284: the walls are from eleven to fifteen feet thick: all the towers are defended by smaller round ones, projecting two or three feet over, with a regular communication round the whole castle by galleries, on the same plan as at Caernarvon. The steps are decayed and broken, and the looseness of the stones rendered a footing very insecure; but, impelled by an irresistible curiosity, we ascended the most perfect tower, and an extensive prospect presented itself to our view. The foundation of one of the principal towers, looking towards a small river, which here joins the Conway, has lately given way, and torn down with it part of the building; the remainder now hangs in an extraordinary manner. The whole town is enclosed within strong walls, and defended by a number of towers, which communicate with the castle by a gallery; there are likewise several gate-ways, at certain distances.

The ancient Church next attracted our attention; but did not detain us long, as the monuments for the Wynnes, are the only things worthy of inspection. From thence we surveyed the remains of the College, which in the reign of Edward I. was intended for the instruction of youth: it is now in complete ruins: the workmanship curious, with several sculptured arms. In this town is an ancient house, built in the form of a quadrangle, by the Wynnes, in the time of Elizabeth, now inhabited by poor families. This house is adorned, after the fantastical fashion of the times, in which it was erected; the roof is singularly carved, and the front decorated with the arms of England, with several curious crests, birds, and beasts: it bears the date of 1585. The arms of Elizabeth are carved over the door, fronting the street.

The trade of Conway consists in the exportation of slate, and copper from the Llandidno mines, from whence the finest specimens of the Malachite copper is brought. The town and castle of Conway are seen to great advantage in crossing the river, which is here nearly a mile over, and at high water washes the walls of that massy ruin: in the middle of the channel is a small rocky island. We observed, from this situation, the two castles, called Bodscaleen and Dyganwy; the small remains of the latter stand on a high rock above the river; the former is a beautiful seat of the Mostyns.

We were soon transported into Denbighshire; an extensive prospect of the ocean presented itself before us, and we discovered the mountains of the Isle of Man, which could scarcely be distinguished from the clouds of Heaven, and the waves of the sea. In descending a hill, about two miles from the neat bathing-town of

ABERGELE,

we observed, on our right, two immense caverns, about half way up the mountain; they are called Cavern-arogo, and run four or five hundred yards into the ground; but their real extent has never yet been ascertained with accuracy. From these mountains, vast quantities of lime are shipped for Liverpool, and many parts of England; they are said to be inexhaustible.

Abergele, situated on the edge of Rhuddlan Marsh, is a small neat town, of one street, resorted to in the summer-season for bathing. The sands afford excellent walking; in the evening we lingered on the beach for a considerable time, enjoying the calm, but cheerful beauty of Nature, and inhaling the pure sea-breeze—for,

“—The wind was hush’d, And to the beach each slowly-lifted wave, Creeping with silver curl, just kist the shore, And slept in silence.”—

Mason’s Garden.

With pleasure, mixed with reverential awe, we trod Rhuddlan Marsh, so celebrated in the annals of history. Here the ill-fated Richard the Second was betrayed into the hands of Bolinbroke, and taken prisoner to Flint: here the famous King [131] of Mercia met his untimely death: here the Welsh, under the command of Caradoc, in the year 795, were defeated in a conflict with the Saxons, and their leader slain in the action. This memorable and tragical event is handed down to posterity, by an ancient celebrated ballad, called Morva Rhuddlan, or the Marsh of Rhuddlan, composed by the bards on the death of Prince Caradoc.

The ground we trod, connected with so many events, revived in our minds, the memory of past ages, a series of historical events came to our recollection; events, that are now so distant, as almost to be obliterated from the page of history. Passing over a bridge of two arches, thrown over the river Clwyd, we entered

RHUDDLAN,

once the largest and most respectable town in North-Wales. Walking over the ruins of the castle, I recurred, by a natural association of ideas, to the times, when the Parliament-house, the balls, and courts echoed with the voices of those, who have long since been swept from the earth, by the unerring hand of death. One solitary Gothic window is now only remaining, to distinguish the old Parliament-house, where Edward the First instituted that famous code of laws, under the title of the Statute of Rhuddlan, from a neighbouring barn; and, what once contained the Parliament of England, now contains nothing but bark for the supply of a tan-yard.

The old castle is built of red stone; it consists of a square area, strongly fortified with a wall: this court we entered through the grand gate-way, between two round towers: the opposite side corresponds. The whole is encircled by a deep entrenchment, faced with stone on the river side, with two square towers, one of which still remains.

The road from hence to

ST. ASAPH,

affords a most rich and beautiful walk, extending along the celebrated vale of Clwyd. This rich tract of land, called, The Eden of North-Wales, extends in length about twenty-five miles, and in breadth about eight. The neighbourhood of Ruthin afford the best view of this vale: though it is by no means so interesting and romantic, as the vale of Glamorganshire, yet its high cultivation, and picturesque, but moderate height of the hills, rising on each side of the river Clwyd, renders the scenery pleasing: its chief produce is corn. Both these vales claim the attention of the traveller; and both have to boast of particular beauties. One mile from St. Asaph, we passed, on our right, the elegant seat of Sir Edward Lloyd. We still followed the banks the Clwyd, and at the farthest extremity a light elegant bridge, of seven arches, with the dark Tower of St. Asaph’s Cathedral, rising on an eminence just over it, gave a picturesque effect to the whole scenery.

The town itself is built on a hill, in one strait line, with a few neat houses. The Cathedral naturally demands attention; the inside is remarkably neat and elegant, entirely Gothic, with the ceiling of chesnut, and open ribs, like the skeleton of a ship: it has lately been repaired by Mr. Turner, architect of Whitchurch, at the great expence of two thousand four hundred pounds. The monument of David ap Owen, Bishop of this diocese, was particularly pointed out to us. The Bishop’s Palace has been entirely rebuilt by the present diocesan. The Choir consists of a Bishop, Dean, six Canons, seven Prebends, and four Vicars. There are no monuments in the church-yard, and few of any importance within its venerable walls.

St. Asaph receives its derivation from its patron, who established a Bishop’s see here, in the year 590: but in British it is named Llan-Elwy, on account of the conflux of the Elwy with the Clywd. It is singular, that the Bishop’s jurisdiction extends over no entire county, but part of Flintshire, Denbighshire, Montgomeryshire, Merionethshire, and Shropshire.

The tract of land extending from hence to

DENBIGH,

is extremely rich in wood, pasture, and corn, but very deficient in water; directly contrary to the rugged scenes of Caernarvonshire; the summits of whose mountains appeared still visible in the distant retrospect, mingling with the clouds. About a mile from St. Asaph, we were particularly pleased with an old oak, whose arms extending entirely across the road, formed a most elegantly shaped arch.

Denbigh, situated nearly in the centre of the vale of Clwyd, is a well-built town, standing on the declivity of a hill. A large manufactory of shoes and gloves is here carried on, and annually supplies London with a vast quantity. The ruins of the castle, still remaining on a rock, commanding the town, are too celebrated in history, and too cruelly shattered by the ravages of war, to be passed unnoticed. The principal entrance forms a fine Gothic arch, with the statue of King Edward the First its founder, above it, in an elegant nich, curiously carved, encircled with a square stone frame. No part of this castle is perfect; but the huge thick fragments, which are scattered in the most extraordinary and fantastical manner, seem to tell its former magnificence; and a present view of things, such as they are, with a retrospect of what they originally were, spreads a gloom over the mind, and interrupts the pleasure of contemplation; yet still, the singular character of this ruin is particularly interesting. Masses of wall still remain, the proud effigies of sinking greatness; and the shattered tower seems to nod at every murmur of the blast, and menace the observer with immediate annihilation. Amongst these ruins we lingered till the whole was silvered by the pale rays of the moon. To form a conjecture, on the extent of its apartments, is now impossible; but it is thus described by Leland, in his Itinerary:

“The castelle is a very large thinge, and hath many toures yn it; but the body of the worke was never finished.

“The gate-house is a marvellous strong and great peace of work, but the fastigia of it were never finished. If they had beene, it might have beene countid among the most memorable peaces of workys in England. It hath diverse wardes and dyverse portcolicis. On the front of the gate is set the image of Henry Lacy, earl of Lincoln, in his stately long robes.

“There is another very high towre, and larg, in the castelle caullid the Redde Towre.

“Sum say, that the erle of Lincoln’s sunne felle into the castelle welle, and ther dyed; whereupon he never passid to finisch the castelle.

“King Edward the Fourth was besieged in Denbigh castelle, and ther it was pactid between king Henry’s men and hym that he should with life departe the reaulme, never to returne. If they had taken king Edwarde there debellatum fuisset.”

The parish church stands within the walls of the original town. Below the castle are the fragments of an old church, which for particular reasons, that cannot now be ascertained, was never finished: it contains nine windows on two sides, with a large and handsome one on the east.

The vale of Clwyd still retains the character of luxuriant fertility; about two miles from hence, in our way to

RUTHIN,

“Denbigh, fair empress of the vale,” with its tottering towers, formed a most beautiful landscape; whilst the neat little hamlet of Whitchurch peeped from among the pomp of groves. At the small village of St. Fynnon St. Dyfnog, this curious inscription over a door,

“Near this place, within a vault, There is such liquor fix’d, You’ll say that water, hops, and malt, Were never better mix’d;”

invited the “weary-way wanderer,” to partake of the good things within: this inclined us to be better acquainted with the author of this extraordinary stanza; and we intreated the Landlord to be our director to the much-esteemed well of St. Dyfnog. Passing through the church-yard, and from thence through the passage of an alms’-house, we reached a plantation of trees, with a broad gravel-walk, almost concealed from day’s garish light, by the thick foliage: this brought us to the fountain, enclosed in an angular wall, which forms a bath of considerable size; and so

—“far retir’d Among the windings of a woody vale, By solitude and deep surrounding shades, But more by bashful modesty, conceal’d;”

that the “lovely young Lavinia” might here plunge into the flood, secure from the intrusion of Palemon. Many wonderful qualities are attributed to this fountain; but it is more particularly celebrated for the cure of the rheumatism: the water has no peculiar taste. We returned by a subterraneous path under the road, which led to the pleasure-grounds, adjoining the seat of Major Wylyn.

Several seats were beautifully dispersed on each side of the vale; among which, Lord Bagot’s and Lord Kirkwall’s formed the most prominent features in the landscape.

Ruthin is a large neat town, only divided from the parish of Llanruth, by a strong stone bridge: the scite of the church is extremely pretty, and is a handsome modern edifice: here is a monument to Dr. Gabriel Goodman, Dean of Westminster, in the time of Elizabeth, and likewise a native of this place. A new gaol has lately been built here by Mr. Turner. The remains of the castle, at the southern extremity of the town, are scarcely worthy a moment’s observation; and the scite of the old chapel is now converted into a bowling-green. Owen Glendwr demolished this town by fire, September 20, 1400. In the last century, the loyalists fortified the castle, and sustained a long siege in 1646.

We still continued skirting the rich vale of Clwyd; but winding up a steep hill, overlooking the whole of it, from one extremity to the other, we were reluctantly compelled to bid a final adieu to all its vistas, hamlets, steeples; the whole prospect, glowing with luxuriance, seemed to assume fresh beauties, at this our farewell view: the cattle, which were grazing in the shorn meadows, and beautifully contrasted with the ripening corn, appeared more animated; and we discovered, or thought we discovered, an additional number of villages, peeping from the woody skirts of the sloping hills. From this point the vale is certainly seen to great advantage. To give a still greater effect, a thunder-storm came rolling on; and the clouds were

“Silent borne along, heavy and slow, With the big stores of steaming oceans charg’d.”

This storm compelled us to seek for a shelter, in a miserable pot-house; but the civility of the landlady fully compensated for its want of accommodations. The effects of the storm rendered the remainder of our journey much more agreeable, and the heat less oppressive: a dull, uninteresting road continued, till we arrived within four or five miles of

WREXHAM.

The contrast was too striking to escape our notice; but having climbed a steep eminence, the eye commanded an almost boundless range of land; and the faint colour of the hills, retiring in the distance, was beautifully combined with the mellow green of nearer woods. The counties of Cheshire, Shropshire, and a considerable part of Wales, were extended, like a map, for our inspection; the town of Wrexham, rising in the bottom, animated the scene, with its noble tower, overtopping the numberless little steeples near it. Close to the road, we observed several coal and lead mines, and a melting house for forming lead into pigs; these works belong to Mr. Wilkinson.

The dirty out-skirts of Wrexham, by no means prepossessed us in favor of the town, but viewing it more leisurely, we can safely affirm, that it is not only the largest, but the best built town in Wales.

To the kind attentions of a clergyman in the neighbourhood of Wrexham, we are much indebted, and under his directions, we surveyed the lions with great advantage. Our friendly Ciceroni first conducted us to the church, an elegant building of the reign of Henry VII. The tower is an hundred and forty feet high, and esteemed “a beautiful specimen of the florid, or reformed Gothic, which prevailed about that time;” all the figures and ornaments are well designed, and still in high preservation. The inside is not less elegant; it has lately been neatly repaired, with a good gallery and organ: the painted altar piece is well executed. On the left, facing the altar, is a very handsome monument by Roubilliac, to the memory of Mrs. Mary Middleton; both the design, and execution, reflect the highest credit on the sculptor; the subject is the last day; at the sound of the trumpet, a tomb of black marble bursts open, and a beautiful female figure, clothed in white, appears rising from it, just awoke from the sleep of death; her form dignified; candour, innocence, and celestial joy shine in her countenance, and gives it the most feeling and animated expression: in the back ground, an obelisk, supposed to be erected to her memory, is rent asunder; above, an angel, enveloped in a cloud, is pointing to brighter scenes. In this church are two other monuments, executed by the same celebrated master, in memory of some of the Middletons; their designs, though striking, cannot be compared to his last day. Our worthy conductor, perceiving we were great amateurs of paintings, and careful that nothing of consequence should be passed unnoticed by us, particularly wished us to examine the performance of a young artist, then at Wrexham: a copy amongst others, of a painting of Rembrant’s, taken by Mr. Allen, from a celebrated picture, in the possession of Lord Craven, was most ingenuously executed; the subject is an old man, instructing a young boy; the attention of the latter, most admirably preserved; the head of the former, and the hand particularly, most highly finished. Without any exaggeration, this painting would do credit to the most scientific painter, and be esteemed invaluable; it is therefore to be hoped, from the hands of so young an artist as Mr. Allen, that this performance will be disposed of, where judges of painting may view it with a critic’s eye, and recommend its merits to those who can afford to encourage industry and ingenuity.

Our friend’s invitation to his hospitable parsonage, and agreeable family, was too kindly urged, possibly to be refused, and in our way to

MARCH WIEL,

we visited the seat of P. York, Esq. The grounds and plantations, are very extensive; and the bowery walk, while they afford refreshing shelter from a summer’s sun, allow partial views of the counties of Cheshire and Shropshire; with the Weeakin and Brydyork hills: in short, through these groves

“How long so e’er the wanderer roves, each step Shall wake fresh beauties, each short point presents A different picture; new, and yet the same.”

The tower of Wrexham, and the town itself, as occasion offers, is a nearer, and an additional charming object. In an alteration of the walks a few years since, were discovered below the surface of the ground, the shattered walls of an ancient castle; these fragments Mr. Yorke has left unimpaired, and they remain a momento of the vicissitudes of fortune. The entrenchments round the castle, and likewise the original scite of the keep, are still very apparent.

The house itself is very indifferent: Watt’s dyke runs through part of the grounds. In a parlour opposite the garden, we observed some fine paintings of the Hardwick family. Mr. Yorke has dedicated another room to the royal tribes of Wales, [144] where the arms and lines of the descent, as far as they can be traced, are emblazoned and hung up.

In the coolness of the evening, our hospitable host, conducted us to the neat and elegant little country church of March Wiel, lately cased with stone; and in the year 1788, ornamented with a new painted window by Mr. Eginton, of Birmingham; the twenty-one compartments contain the arms and crests of the Middletons and Yorks, with rich transparent borders. This window is undoubtedly very elegant, but the subject in my own opinion, more adapted to a hall, than an ornament to a church window. The high tower appears not in proportion with the body of the church.

Deeply impressed with sentiments of gratitude towards our Reverend friend, and sensible of his hospitality and kind intentions, we took leave of him early the next morning, and pursued our route to

RUABON,

purporting to visit Wynstay Park, the much admired seat of Sir Watkin Williams Wynne. On leaving Marchwiel, a most delightful prospect spread before us; in the retrospect, the tower of Wrexham Church brought to our recollection the views of Magdalen College Tower, in the vicinity of Oxford.

The park of Wynstay is well stocked with red deer; excellent plantations; and the house is an elegant modern structure, but nothing in the inside particularly deserving the attention of the traveller. In the grounds, the chief object, worthy of inspection, is a very elegant obelisk, now erecting to the memory of the present Sir Watkin’s father. The height is an hundred and one feet; the base of it sixteen, and the top nine, built with free-stone, and fluted: round the top is formed a gallery, with a handsome urn in bronze, after an elegant design, cast in London; round the base of the column, are wreaths of oak leaves, in the beaks of four eagles, cast in the same metal. On the south-west side is a door, with a stair-case within the obelisk leading to the top: we regretted that the key could not be procured, as the prospect from that eminence must be extremely fine. On the other three sides, an appropriate inscription, in English, Welch, and Latin, is to be carved.

Through this park runs Offa’s Dyke, thrown up by the great King of Mercia, from whence it derives its name, to check the irruptions of the Welch, mark the confines of each country, and give greater security to his own. It begins at Basingwerk, in Flintshire, and ends at Chepstow, in Monmouthshire; extending a line of not less than one hundred and fifty miles, over rocks and mountains. This great undertaking still retains the ancient name of Clawdh Offa, or Offa’s Dyke.

Passing through the little village of Ruabon, situated at the extremity of Sir Watkin’s Park, a very interesting and picturesque country, composed of rich vallies, and gently sloping hills, presented itself to our view; and, at some distance, we soon caught a glimpse of Chirk Castle, a noble seat of the family of the Myddleton’s, standing on an eminence. Four miles from Llangollen, we enquired for the wonderful

PONTCYSYLLTY, [147]

(pronounced Pont y Casulte) or famous aqueduct, now erecting over the river Dee, and found ourselves within half a mile of this great and astonishing undertaking. It is not yet finished; eleven pillars are already completed, built of sandy stone, which is dug on the spot; they are fifteen yards asunder, and their height, from the bed of the river, one hundred and twenty feet: over the whole is to run an iron trough, sufficiently deep for barges of considerable burthen. On the middle column is the following inscription:

“The nobility and gentry of The adjacent counties, Having united their efforts with The great commercial interest of this country, In creating an intercourse and union between England and Wales, By a navigable communication of the three rivers, Severn, Dee, and Mercey; For the mutual benefit of agriculture and trade, Caus’d the first stone of this aqueduct of PONTCYSYLLTY To be laid on the 25th day of July, M.DCC.XCV. When Richard Myddleton, of Chirk, Esq. M.P. One of the original patrons of the Ellesmere canal, Was lord of this manor, And in the reign of our Sovereign George the Third; When the equity of the laws, and The security of property, Promoted the general welfare of the nation; While the arts and sciences flourish’d By his patronage, and The conduct of civil life was improv’d By his example.”

This wonderful aqueduct reflects great honour to the undertakers of so admirable, as well as valuable enterprize; and, should their hazardous scheme succeed, the whole nation must indubitably reap great advantages: several columns must still be erected, before the level can be accomplished. It is forming over the most beautiful and romantic part of the river Dee; a bridge likewise, not far from this spot, adds considerably to the beauty of the scene. Wood, water, and sloping hills, all combine to render this vale interesting; several detached cottages, are sprinkled through its wooded declivities, and here and there a gentleman’s seat, “embosomed high in tufted trees,” makes a pleasing feature, in the fascinating landscape. Returning to the turnpike-road, a short saunter soon brought us to the romantically-situated town of

LLANGOLLEN,

(pronounced Llangothlen) completely environed with mountains, with a high hill to our right, bearing on its narrow peak the small remains of Castel Dinas Bran. The bridge, adjacent to the town, thrown over the rapid Dee, consisting of six arches, and formerly esteemed One of the principal Wonders of Wales, by no means answered our expectations. Some difficulty, no doubt, attended its first erection, as the foundation is built on the solid rock: it is now repairing.

The elegant description of the valley in the kingdom of Amhara, by Dr. Johnson, is very applicable to Llangollen; for “all the blessings of nature seemed here to be collected, and its evils extracted and excluded.” Without a sigh of regret, not like the discontented Rasselas, I could here pass the remainder of my days, “in full conviction, that this vale contains within its reach all that art or nature can bestow; I could pity those, whom fate had excluded from this seat of tranquillity, as the sport of chance, and the slaves of misery.” Such is the enviable situation of Lady Eleanor Butler and Miss Ponsonby, who thus veiled in obscurity have fitted up, in a true characteristic stile, an elegant little cottage, at the west extremity of the town, situated on a knole: the two rooms, which are allotted for the inspection of strangers, are very handsomely furnished; the dining-room is ornamented with drawings, the most favourite spots in the vicinity being selected as the subjects. The window commands a prospect of the mountains, which awfully rise in front. The study, looking on the well-arranged plantations of the garden, was appropriately furnished with a choice collection of books: we regretted, in the absence of the gardener, that we could not gain admittance to the grounds. The vale of Llangollen, and this enviable retreat, have been the subject of much admiration both in verse and prose; and highly deserve the praises, which have been lavished upon it.

“Say, ivy’d Valle Crucis; time delay’d Dim on the brink of Deva’s wand’ring floods, Your iv’d arch glitt’ring thro’ the tangled shade, Your grey hills tow’ring o’er your night of woods; Deep in the vale recesses as you stand, And, desolately great, the rising sigh command; Say, lovely ruin’d pile, when former years Saw your pale train at midnight altars bow; Saw superstition frown upon the tears That mourn’d the rash, irrevocable vow; Wore one young lip gay Eleanora’s [151a] smile? Did Zara’s [151b] look serene one tedious hour beguile?”

The bridge of Llangollen is thus described by the elegant pen of Mr. Pennant:

“The bridge, which was founded by the first John Trevor, bishop of St. Asaph, [151c] who died in 1357, is one of the Tri Thlws Cymru, or three beauties of Wales: but more remarkable for its situation than structure. It consists of five arches; whose widest does not exceed twenty-eight feet in diameter. The river usually runs under only one; where it has formed a black chasm of vast depth, into which the water pours with great fury, from a high broken ledge, formed in the smooth, and solid rock, which composes the whole bed of the river. The view through the arches, either upwards or downwards, is extremely picturesque.”

Having satisfied our curiosity, Dinas Bran, or Crow Castle, next invited our attention, and having attained the summit of a steep and craggy hill, commanding a pleasing view of Llangollen, we arrived at the ruins, which crest this precipice. The remains of this castle are now so trifling, that it scarcely repays even the enthusiast the trouble of ascending; its appearance is by no means picturesque, not a tree to give effect to the crumbling walls; nor has time spared one of the towers.

It was formerly the residence of Myfanwy Vechan, so celebrated in verse. The castle is built of the stone which composes the hill, on which it is erected. The prospect is very pleasing. Chirk Castle, Wynstay Park, [152] and many other seats of respectability, more particularly conspicuous; great part of the vale, and the meandering course of the Dee, may here be traced; whilst the opposite hills are shelved off in an extraordinary and unusual manner, resembling so many walls, or fortifications. Having descended this steep eminence, we continued our route to Valle Crucis Abbey, about two miles distant from Llangollen. It would be advisable for strangers first to visit Valle Crucis, and take Dinas Bran Castle in their way back to their inn. The transmutations of time are frequently ridiculous: the long aisles of this monastery, which were once only responsive to the slow-breathed chaunt, now repeat the rude dissonance of ducks, cows, and all manner of poultry. Instead of these emblems of rusticity, the mind’s eye is more accustomed to appropriate these antique edifices to the midnight procession of monks issuing from their cells, to perform the solemn service. These neglected walls are too deeply-shrouded in their melancholy grove of ash-trees, to be seen to advantage; an axe, judiciously used, would be of service to the ruin, as the elegant window of the chapel is completely concealed by the luxuriant vegetation around; still, however, a pleasing melancholy pervades the whole scene. The abbey is beautifully skreened, on all sides, by woody hills, which entirely protect it from the inclemency of the winter.

This ancient cistertian monastery was founded by Madoc ap Griffith Maylor, in the year 1200, and is sometimes called Llan-Egwiste, or Llanegwast. In this vale is the pillar of Eglwyseg; but the country people appeared quite ignorant of its situation. Returning to Llangollen, we pursued the turnpike road to the neat village of

CHIRK.

For some way we followed the strait and formal course of a canal, near this, communicating with the Pont-y-Casulte; we again paused to survey this wonderful design. The vale, on our left, was indescribably beautiful; and over the whole was diffused the purple glow of the even. The prospect was composed of the miniature parts of the immense landscape we had viewed from Dinas Bran Hill, each of which we now contemplated separately as a scene. The moon’s checkered gleam besilvered the walls of Chirk Castle, just as we entered the Hand Inn, where, after the fatigues of a long walk, we met with excellent accommodations, when considered as a village.

After breakfast the next morning, we endeavoured to obtain admission to see the inside of Chirk Castle, but without success, though now only inhabited by servants, who were peremptorily commanded to admit no strangers. It is situated on an eminence, surrounded by a park, and fine plantations, which are very judiciously laid out; this elegant mansion has been in the possession of the Myddleton family, ever since the year 1614. Having gratified ourselves with a survey of this noble park, we returned to the Oswestry road. Leaving the village of Chirk, we crossed a new bridge, of one arch, elegantly constructed: near is another aqueduct, of considerable extent, now erecting over this river and valley, which, though very inferior to the Pont-y-Casulte, is still a great undertaking: it is several hundred yards in length, and the brick piers rise fifty or sixty feet above the level of the water. Near this is a rich coal mine, lately discovered. From hence to Oswestry, we traversed a rich enclosed country, and enjoyed a scene particularly pleasing: all the inhabitants were collected, to gather in the produce of the ripened field; and

“Thro’ their cheerful band the rural talk The rural scandal, and the rural jest, Fled harmless.”

To the traveller and the poet, such scenes afford an ample field for amusement; but waving corn is ill adapted to the canvass of the painter. About two miles from Oswestry, we passed through the little town of

WHITTINGTON.

At this place was fought the battle between Oswald, the Christian King of the Northumbrians, and Pènda, the Pagan King of the Mercians, in which the former lost his life. An easy walk soon brought us to

OSWESTRY.

Its only relicks now remaining are the ruins of a chapel, built over a remarkably fine spring of water; to this was formerly attributed the cure of various diseases, incident both to man and beast; and though its miracles have long ceased, yet it still bears the name of the saint. The remains of the castle, supposed to have been built at the time of the conquest, are now almost too trivial to be noticed. This town was garrisoned by the King, in the beginning of the civil wars, but captured in June, 1644, by the Earl of Denbigh and General Mytton.

In passing through the town of Oswestry, we noticed the church, as being a very neat building; but either from our own neglect, or imagining it not to be ancient, we did not inspect the interior. Oswestry suffered greatly by fire, in the year 1542, and likewise in 1567.

“The chirk of St. Oswalde (says Leland) is a very faire leddid chirch with a great tourrid steple, but it standith without the New Gate; so that no chirch is there within the towne. This chirch was some time a monasterie, caullid the White Minster. After turnid to a paroche chirch, and the personage impropriate to the abbey of Shreusbyri. The cloister stoode in hominum memoria ubi monumenta monachorum. The place and streate wer the chirch standithe is caullid Stretllan.”

From this place to

LLANYMYNACH,

a continuation of the rich enclosed country, shewing to advantage the agriculture of these parts, attended us, till we reached the foot of the hill of Llanymynach. From the summit of this we enjoyed a most beautiful and boundless prospect, commanding the whole dome of the sky: all individual dignity was overpowered by the immensity of the whole view, which consisted more particularly of the rivers Virnwy and Tannad, joining their waters with the Severn; the lofty water-fall of Pistyll Rhaiadr—the Breddin hills—and the Ferwyn mountains. The geological observations on Llanymynach hill, by Mr. Aikin, are so accurate, that to attempt any further description would be deemed highly presumptuous in me; I shall therefore avail myself of an account, so ably delineated:

“The hill of Llanymynach, is not only remarkable for the fine prospect from its top, it is still more worthy notice, as containing by far the most extensive lime-works of any in this part of the country. The lime of Llanymynach rock is in high request as a manure, and is sent by land carriage as far as Montgomery, New-town, and even Llanidloes: it sells at the kilns for seven-pence a bushel, and from thirty to thirty-six bushels, are reckoned a waggon-load; the coal with which it is burnt, is brought partly from the neighbourhood of Oswestry, and partly from Sir Watkin Williams Wynne’s pits, near Ruaben. The lime lies in strata, parallel to the horizon, varying in thickness from three inches to five feet; it is of an extraordinary hardness, with but little calcarious spar, and few shells, or other marine exuvial; its colour reddish brown, burning to almost white. Between the strata of lime, we found a very tenacious smooth clay, orange coloured ochre, and green plumose carbonate of copper, or malachite. It was in search of this copper, that the Romans carried on here such extensive works, of which the remains are still very visible: they consist of a range of from twenty to thirty shallow pits, the heaps of rubbish from the mouths of which, abound with small pieces of copper ore, and a cave of considerable dimensions, terminating in an irregular winding passage, of unknown length, connected with which, are two air shafts still remaining open, and the appearances of several others, now filled up: in some of these caverns are found, large and beautiful specimens of stalactite. One of the levels was explored some years ago, and in it was discovered a skeleton, with mining tools, and some Roman copper coins. The whole mass of the hill, seems more or less impregnated with copper: whenever the surface is uncovered, there are evident marks of the presence of this metal, and the stones composing the rampart of Offa’s Dyke, which encompasses two sides of the hill, are in many parts quite covered with cupreous efflorenscences. Between the village and the rock, passes a branch of the Ellesmere canal, which, when navigable, will add much to the value of these works, by rendering them more accessible to the surrounding country, and may induce some spirited adventurer, to recommence a search after copper, which, it is evident, was formerly prosecuted with considerable success.”

This description of Llanymynach hill, we pronounce from our own observation, to be so very accurate, that the length of the quotation will be readily excused. Leaving the pretty village of Llanymynach, situated on the banks of the Virnwy, we resumed our journey to Welch Pool; the face of the country was pleasing, and we soon reached the Breddin hills, on whose summit a column is erected to commemorate the victory of Admiral Lord Rodney over the French, in the year 1782. Not far from hence, we passed a handsome aqueduct, admirably constructed over the river Virnwy, of great strength and stability. The vale of the Severn affords much picturesque scenery, and we at length arrived at

WELCH POOL

Quay, about three miles from that place; several vessels were lying here, which carry on a constant traffic with Worcester, and the towns situated on the banks of this noble river. Before our entrè into Pool, Powis Castle appeared on an eminence, immediately rising behind the town, and beautifully backed with a large plantation of trees.

Welch Pool derives its name from a black pool in its neighbourhood; its Welch appellation signifying, a quagmire or pool, and is one of the five boroughs in Montgomeryshire, which jointly send a member to parliament. The town is by no means neat; it stands on a low hill, and consists of one principal street; in which are situated the new county hall, and market-places. The Severn is navigable within three quarters of a mile of this town, and computed not less than two hundred miles from its juncture with the Bristol Channel. It is the great market for the Welch flannel, called gwart, or webb, prepared in many parts of Merionethshire, and generally used for soldiers’ clothes. This trade, however, has of late been very inconsiderable.

Powis Castle lies to the right, about one mile from Pool, on the ridge of a rock, retaining a mixture of castle and mansion: it is built of red stone, and originally contained within its walls two castles: the entrance is between two round towers. There are several family portraits in a long gallery, measuring one hundred and seventeen feet by twenty: [161a] it was formerly one hundred and sixty-seven feet long, but an apartment has been taken out of one end. [161b] The gardens still retain that stiff formality, so much in vogue many years ago; but the curious water-works, in imitation of the wretched taste of St. Germain’s en Laye, are now destroyed. The prospect from the castle is very extensive, comprehending a view of Welch Pool, Vale, and Freiddin Hills.

From hence to

MONTGOMERY,

the Ellesmere Canal accompanied us part of the way; and at length, after a fatiguing walk, we reached the Green Dragon, a small and comfortable inn. The scite of Montgomery is very pleasing, on a gentle ascent, and backed by a steep hill, beautifully clothed with the rich plantations belonging to Lord Powis. The town itself is a straggling place, and little to recommend it. The remains of the castle are now too trifling, to interest the passing traveller.

In the year 1094, this castle was gallantly defended by the Normans; but the Welch, at last, finding meant to undermine the walls, took it by storm; and, after putting the garrison to the sword, levelled that fortress to the ground. It was afterwards rebuilt by Henry III. in the year 1221, as a check to the incursions of the Welch; but a second time razed to the ground by Llewellyn the Great, Prince of Wales; it afterwards became the seat of the Lords Herbert of Cherbury, and their ancestors, till reduced to its present ruinous condition by the civil wars.

The road to

BISHOPS CASTLE,

brought us through a very rich country; and on ascending a hill, about five miles from Montgomery, a retrospect of the far distant mountainous country of Wales, to which we were now bidding a last adieu, irresistibly brought on a train of serious reflections. In a retrospect like this, where the subject and the scene must inspire serious thoughts, such traces are not unpleasing; they tend to promote one general effect—the love of contemplation. We enumerated the little incidents which had taken place, indulging reflections on scenes for ever past:—we erected, on the spot which we esteemed most adapted to retirement, the visionary cottage: our schemes were instantly arranged,—fancy fashioned its ornaments, adapted its appendages;—and fancy will ever exceed realities. But all our air-built plans of future happiness soon vanished:—and alas! when

—“fancy scatters roses all around, What blissful visions rise! In prospect bright Awhile they charm the foul: but scarce attain’d, The gay delusion fades. Another comes, The soft enchantment is again renew’d, And youth again enjoys the airy dreams Of fancied good.”—

Bishops Castle is situated in a bottom: we found it a more extensive place than we had any idea of expecting; but being shortly convinced, that there was nothing particular to require a long stay, and having recruited ourselves at the Castle Inn, we hastened to leave the town. The road, for the first seven miles, continually dipped into shallow vallies, well wooded, affording cursory views, with many a substantial farmer’s habitation lurking amongst the trees. At length, a rich and noble vale, with extensive woods, on our right, animated with several gentlemen’s seats, and watered by an overflowing stream, running immediately close to the road, accompanied us to

LUDLOW;

situated on an eminence, in the midst of this most luxuriant country. After the many indifferent Welch towns which we had passed through, since the commencement of our pedestrian excursion, we felt ourselves not a little chagrined at our uncouth appearance, in entering so gay a place. The streets are commodious, and the houses and public buildings extremely neat. The gravel walks round the castle are extensive, and command, at occasional points, distinct prospects of the gentlemen’s seats, in the neighbourhood, with their grounds, and noble plantations. The river Teme gives additional beauty to this fascinating spot; the new bridge, recently erected a little below the castle, forms likewise, from this spot, by no means an uninteresting object; add to this, at suitable distances, the river, by means of dams, is formed into small artificial cascades. At the extremity of the town, is another bridge, separating the counties of Shropshire and Hereford. These walks were laid out in the year 1772, by the Countess of Powis, at a great expence. The overshadowing trees not only afford refreshing shelter from a summer’s sun, but are likewise a protection from the piercing winter’s wind: indeed,

—“I cou’d rove At morn, at noon, at eve, by lunar ray, In each returning season, through your shade, Ye reverend woods; cou’d visit ev’ry dell, Each hill, each breezy lawn, each wand’ring brook, And bid the world admire; each magic spot again Cou’d seek, and tell again of all its charms.”

Towards the North, the mazy course of the Teme.—Oakley Park, the elegant seat of the Dowager Lady Clive.—The Clee Hills.—The celebrated Caer Caradoc, with the other eminences, near Stretton, terminating the view, present a most fascinating landscape. Towards the West, a combination of rock, wood, and water, gratifies the warmest wish of fancy.