THE CAMBRIAN TOURIST. (continued 3)

Mr. Aikin ascended it from Dolgelly. Llyn-y-Gader lies about a mile and a half on the high road to Towyn, which having arrived at, we quitted the road, and began our ascent. When we had surmounted the exterior ridge, we descended a little to a deep clear lake, which is kept constantly full by the numerous tributary torrents which fall down the surrounding rocks. Hence we climbed a second and still higher chain, up a steep but not difficult track, over numerous fragments of rock, detached from the higher parts: we now came to a second and more elevated lake, called Llyn y Cae, clear as glass, and overlooked by steep cliffs, in such a manner as to resemble the crater of a volcano, of which a most accurate representation may be seen in Wilson’s excellent View of Cader Idris. A clear, loud, and distinct echo repeats every shout which is made near the lake. The waters of this lake cover an extent of fifty acres, abounding with trout and other fish. We now began our last and most difficult ascent, up the summit of Cader Idris itself. The loose columnar stones lie about in all directions, assuming in many places so regular an appearance, that they might be mistaken for Druidic remains. Some of them stand erect, like Maenhirion, and one is dignified with the title Llêch Idria. Nearer the summit, numerous masses of irregular figures present themselves. Having gained this ascent, a small plain forms the base to two eminences, or rocky heads, of nearly equal height, one lying towards the north, called Tyrran Mawr, the other to the south, called Pen y Gader. We made choice of the latter, which appeared the most elevated, and seated ourselves upon its highest pinnacle to rest, after a laborious ascent of three hours. We were now above all the eminences within a vast expanse, and as the clouds gradually cleared away, caught some grand views of the surrounding country. The huge rocks, which we before looked up to with astonishment, were now far below our feet, and many a small lake appeared in the valleys between them. To the north, Snowdon and its dependencies shut up the scene; on the west, we saw the whole curve of the bay of Cardigan, bounded at a great distance by the Caernarvon mountains, and nearer the sea, dashing its white breakers against the rocky coast of Merioneth. The southern horizon was bounded by Plinlimmon, the bay of Swansea, the Channel peeping through the openings of the Brecon mountains; and on the east, the eye glanced over the lake of Bala, the two Arennig mountains, the two Arrans, and the long chain of the Ferwyn mountains, to the Breddin hills, on the confines of Shropshire. Dimly, in the distant horizon, was beheld the Wrekin, rising alone from the plain of Salop. “In viewing scenes so decidedly magnificent,” says a pictorial writer, “and to which neither the pen nor the pencil of the painter can ever do justice; and the contemplation of which has the power of making ample atonement for having studied mankind, the soul expanding and sublimed, quickens with a spirit of divinity, and appears, as it were, associated with the Deity himself. For, in the same manner as a shepherd feels himself ennobled, while sitting with his prince, so, and in a far more unlimited degree, the beholder feels himself advanced to a higher scale in the creation, in being permitted to see and to admire the grandest of the works of nature.” Having satisfied our curiosity, and being thoroughly chilled by the keen air of these elevated regions, we began to descend down the side opposite to that which we had come up.

The first stage led us to another beautiful mountain lake, the cold clear waters of which discharge their superabundance in a stream down the side of the mountain. All these lakes abound with trout, and in some is found the gwniad, a fish peculiar to rocky Alpine lakes. Following the course of the stream, we came upon the edge of the craggy cliffs which overlook Talyllyn lake. A long and difficult descent conducted us, at last, to the borders of Talyllyn, where we entered the Dolgelly road.

The mountain

CADER IDRIS,

in height the second in Wales, rises on the sea-shore, close upon the north side of the estuary of the small river Disynwy, about a mile from Towyn. It proceeds with almost a constant ascent; first northwards for about three miles, then, for ten miles further, runs east-north-east, giving out from its summit a branch nearly three miles long, in a south-west direction, parallel to the main ridge. It is very steep and craggy on every side; but the south descent, especially to the border of Talyllyn lake, is the most precipitous, being nearly perpendicular. Its breadth bears but a small proportion to its length; a line passing along its base, and intersecting the summit, would scarcely equal four miles and a half; and in the other parts it is a mere ridge, whose base hardly ever exceeds one mile in breadth. Cader Idris is the beginning of a chain of primitive mountains, extending in a north-north-east direction, and including the Arrans and the Arennigs. It is much loftier and more craggy than the slate and secondary mountains which surround it.

The following Ode, by a friend, was written at the fountain welling from the side of this mountain.

I.

The winds are hush’d: the woods are still; And clouds around yon towering hill, In silent volumes roll:— While o’er the vale, the moon serene Throws yellow on the living green; And wakes a harmony between The body and the soul.

II.

Deceitful calm! yon volumes soon, Though gilded by the golden moon, Will send the thunder’s roar. Gloom will succeed the glowing ray; The storm will rage with giant sway; And lightnings will illume its way Along the billowy shore.

III.

’Tis thus in life, from youth to age, Through manhood’s weary pilgrimage, What flattering charms infest! We little think beneath a smile, How many a war, how many a wile, The rich, confiding, heart beguile, And rob it of its rest.

IV.

Then let me near this fountain lie; And let old Time in silence fly, Stealing my youth away! Far from the riot of the mean, Oh! let me o’er this fountain lean; Till Death has drawn the darksome skreen, That hides eternal day.

Mr. Bingley ascended this mountain from the Blue Lion, kept by Jones, before mentioned, who acts as guide: from this spot Mr. Bingley declares himself capable of attaining the summit in two hours, from which he describes the views to be more varied, if not so extensive, as from Snowdon.

“In descending,” he says, “I took a direction eastward of that in which I had gone up, and proceeded along that part of the mountain called Mynydd Moel. The path in this direction is sufficiently sloping to allow a person to ride even to the summit. A gentleman, mounted on a little Welsh poney, had done this a few days before I was here.”

“About two miles from Dolgelly is the pretty village of Llanettyd, and from hence a road through the vale to Maentwrog, which vale is seen to much advantage from the bridge. From this village likewise a path leads to Y Vanner, or Kymmer Abbey, founded in 1198, by Meredith and Griffith, lords of Merioneth, and sons of Cynan ap Owen Gwynedd, prince of North Wales. The monks were of the Cistercian order, and the abbey was dedicated to St. Mary.

“The approach to Barmouth was formerly over a prodigious mountain, surmounted with great difficulty, and passed with apprehension of destruction. The magistrates of the county, however, bent on improvement, agreed with an undertaker to form a road out of the steep rocks jutting out from the sea, and to guard it with a wall. The labour was astonishing, the price two guineas a yard. It is now a most charming road, exhibiting romantic boldness of scenery.

“A stone bridge of several arches conducts over Wnion, which here flows many hundred feet wide. On the right, at a mile distant from the town, on the bank of the river, are the ruins of Kymmer Abbey. Two miles from Dolgelly is Nanneau Park, once the residence of Hawel Sele, an inveterate enemy of Owen Glyndwr, the ancient seat of the family of that name, now of Sir William Vaughan, Bart. The road is by a steep ascent, and the house stands on very high ground. Sir Robert Vaughan erected a new and handsome mansion. In the upper part of the park are the remains of a British post, called Moel Orthrwn, or the Hill of Oppression. Returning towards Barmouth, you regain the road at Llan Ettyd, where the tide flows to a considerable height. Brigs are built here of 200 tons burden.

“From Llan Ettyd to Barmouth is ten miles of most excellent road, winding round the hill opposite to Dolgelly, on a shelf of rock, through hanging woods, across a handsome stone bridge over the Mawddach, when it joins the Wnion. The expanse of water here is considerable at high tide, having the appearance of a large lake, enveloped by mountains. The vivid summit of Cader now assumes the appearance of a volcano. The road follows the inequalities of the shore, till it occupies a narrow shelf of the perpendicular rock of Barmouth. Here is a fine view of the river falling into the beautiful bay of Cardigan.”—Nicholson.

BARMOUTH.

It is advisable for all travellers, pedestrians not excepted, to leave Dolgelly at high water, as without that the scenery loses much of its beauty; if convenient, it is certainly preferable to hire a boat at the Stoves; the charge is three shillings and sixpence; by this you will save a walk of eight miles, and both from your situation, and from being more at your ease, will better admit of your observing the surrounding scenery, with which you cannot fail to be highly gratified.

This short excursion of eight miles is truly grand, awful, and sublime; and, though many parts of this striking valley are richly cultivated, yet, by the side of the road, enormous mountains, formed into the most capricious shapes, shoot into the clouds, sometimes projecting so far over the road, as seemingly designing to impede our farther progress: the wide expanse of the ocean in front, with the arm of the sea running up the country in the centre of the valley; in fine, the tout ensemble claimed our highest admiration.

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.

Barmouth is the only port in the county of Merioneth; but the entrance to it is difficult. The town is built on ledges of rock, one rising above another, so that the inhabitants of one street look down upon the chimnies of that which is before them.

The board and lodging is regulated on the same excellent plan here as at Tenby, with very little difference in respect to the expense. 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: one hovel, however, 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 Corsy-Gedol, the seat of Sir Thomas Mostyn. It is practicable to go by the sands; but we were given to understand that the turnpike road was, if anything, shorter, the scenery more pleasing, and the guides necessary for crossing those dangerous sands, in general, most complete villains.

Harlech, anciently called Twr-Bronwen, though formed by King 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 into the Irish sea. It consists of a square building, each side measuring about seventy yards, having at every corner a round tower. From each of these issued formerly a round turret, except one or two, all now destroyed. The fortifications, fosses, and its situation on the verge of a perpendicular rock, rendered it almost invulnerable.

This castle is one of the strongest and handsomest in Wales. It is in the possession of the Crown, and in time of war has a small garrison for the defence of the coast. From the top of the walls to the 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; and, beginning with the founder, in the true characteristic style of a Welshman, ran 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 Maelgwyn; Gwynedd; made Caer Dugoll (Shrewsbury); Caer Gyffin (Aber Conway); Caer Gollwyn (Harleck); supposed to be buried in Cirencester, and reigned thirty-four years.” Whether this information is correct, I will not take upon me to assert; but meeting with a Welshman in this part of the country capable of writing, rather surprised us, and induced me to transcribe this short paragraph.

In the year 1408 it was taken by the Earl of Pembroke, and afforded likewise shelter to Margaret of Anjou, after the battle of Northampton in 1460; and was the last in North Wales which held out for the King, being surrendered to General Mytton in 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 relic 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 twisted or sharp, but plain, and cut even.”

In the year 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 Camden: suffice it to say, that the air and grass were 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 returning to our obliging landlady at the Corsy-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 Cayne, 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 positions; 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 ramble.

This pleasing scenery varied little till we arrived within two miles of Dolgelly, when several gentlemen’s 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 inquire for, as a proper cicerone 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 style, she tripped 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 inquiries 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 soon reached the Fall 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 basin, 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 steep of Cader Idris, lifting high above the rolling cloud 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 valleys, watered by some foaming river; these are often literally surcharged

“With weighted rains, and melted Alpine snows.”

Such is the true characteristic of the Welsh scenery: the finest verdure and the most enchanting valleys 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. These render it more enchanting to the inquisitive pedestrians, for these landscapes are only accessible to their steps: and 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 of our admiration. The computed measurement of this fall is estimated at 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 can be better conceived than described.

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 rapt admiration, which loathes to be disturbed by the mutual exchange of 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 stunned cataract, throws its troubled waters over a rocky bed, till it unites itself with the Moddach below.

“The feelings with which we view objects of the above description,” says the author of the Beauties, Harmonies, and Sublimities of Nature, “oppose the theory of Mr. Burke, who confines sublimity to objects of terror; those of Lord Kaimes, and Dr. Gerrad, who make it to consist in magnitude, and Dr. Blair, who places it in ‘force,’ are equally erroneous. The idea of Longinus, were we to associate sublimity in poetry with that of the material world, (which we are, however, not authorized to do,) is far from being correct. He defines it ‘a proud elevation of mind.’ When applied to material objects, this is neither cause nor consequence; for the experience of every man, from the proudest of princes to the humblest of peasants, proclaims, that the effect of all sublimity is astonishment, blended with awe: and when, at one moment, did pride and awe unite in the same bosom? The difference between sublimity of writing, and sublimity in objects, has not been sufficiently distinguished by the several writers on the subject of taste. No objects are beautiful and sublime, but by virtue of association. If they were, the Vale of Aylesbury would be beautiful to him, who had long resided in the Vale of Clwyd: and the Cliffs of Dover and the Peaks of Scotland would be equally sublime to the native of Crim Tartary and the peasant of the Tyrol. The opinions of many philosophers, in respect to the pleasure we derive from objects, which excite our pity, are equally false. The Abbé du Bos, Fontenelle, Hume, Akenside, and Burke, are all in error. We must refer to principles; and the principle in this argument resolves itself into the conclusion, that misfortune elicits sympathy, after the same manner that magnets affine, and planets gravitate. But actual final causes we have no power to define; though we frequently presume to do so. Man, indeed, has the faculty of judging, limitedly, of effects; but vain, proud, and arrogant as he is, he can only reason hypothetically, when he would treat of final causes and of final consequences.”

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 grey 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 his 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, 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 Dwyryd, till we arrived at the village of Maenwrog, situated about the middle of this paradise. Passing through the village we observed a small but neat cottage, which was rendered interesting to the wayfarer, by its neat simplicity. 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 affection 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 honey-suckle, 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 our not having had 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.”

“About a mile east of this village,” says Mr. Evans, “are two remarkable waterfalls, called Rhaiadr Du, on the river Cynvel, one about three hundred yards above, and the other below, a rustic bridge thrown over the river, to which it leads. The upper fall consists of three steep rocks, over which the water foams into a deep black bason, overshadowed by the adjoining rocks. The other is formed by a broad sheet of water, precipitated down a rock forty feet high, and darkened by the numerous foliage around it, almost to the edge of the stream. Between the cataract and the bridge is a tall columnar rock, called the pulpit of Hugh Llwyd Cynvel, and situate in the bed of the river, from whence, sage tradition says, a magician used to deliver his nocturnal incantations.” There are few objects in Wales more worthy to be visited than these waterfalls.

From Festiniog, a pleasant excursion may be made to Tremadoc and Criccaeth, and from thence to Pwllheli and Bardsey island. Tremadoc, which is situate at the mouth of the Traeth Mawr, in the promontory of Llyn, is about eight miles from Pont-Aber-Glaslyn: its situation is low, being three feet below low water-mark, built on land reclaimed from the sea, by the spirited exertions of the late William Alexander Madocks, Esq. of Tany-yr-alt.

The town, which is an oblong square, contains a handsome market-house, over which are assembly rooms: a church, a good inn, the Tremadoc Arms, and a bank. The reclaimed land consists of about two thousand acres, which, in less than three years, was covered with vegetation; it now produces excellent crops of wheat, barley, clover, &c. &c.

Mr. Madocks, after having succeeded in this arduous undertaking, set about the still more difficult one of throwing an embankment across the mouth of the Traeth Mawr; as an inducement for the accomplishing of which, a grant was made to him from the crown, in 1807, of the whole of these sands, from Pontaber-glasllyn to the point of Gêst.

The length of the embankment, from north to south, would be about a mile; its breadth at the base one hundred feet, at the top thirty. The whole of this has been completed to within one hundred yards in the centre, and it is to be hoped this noble work will still be accomplished: funds only seem now necessary for its completion: strong chain cables extended across the opening, and hulks then sunk and filled would soon allow them to finish the embankment. After seeing those in North Holland nothing is to be despaired of. Long faggots, from seven to ten feet, straw, rushes, and sand are the best sea-walls, sloping them gradually for the rise of the tide. Those in Holland seemed constantly to have been increased by the action of the sea, instead of having been diminished.

CRICCAETH

is a small borough and market town. Its population is now about four hundred: it, jointly with Caernarvon, &c. sends a member to parliament.

Its ruined castle is not unworthy of attention; it stands on an eminence projecting into the sea, and the entrance to it by land, being only along an isthmus, defended by a double foss and vallum, it must formerly have been strong. The gateway is between two towers, or bastions, externally round, but square within; the facings of which are ascribed to Edward the First: the other towers are entirely square. There have been two courts, but neither of them large, nor indeed has the whole castle been a building of any other than small extent.

It is now in a ruinous state. The view from the ruins over the bay to Haerlech is beautiful. In the neighbourhood of Pwllheli are several respectable family seats; and the country in its vicinity is generally better cultivated than the rest of the promontory: the town itself is irregular and unpleasant; but it carries on a good coasting trade, and vessels of considerable burthen are here built. The petty sessions for the district of Llyn are held here; it is likewise contributory to Caernarvon, in sending a member to parliament. Along the coast to Bardsey Island, a considerable trade in fishing is carried on. Herrings frequent this coast in great abundance, and are very fine: some are cured here, and quantities sold to the Irish. Here likewise are taken both john dories and smelts; the former of which was rejected by the fishermen on the score of its ugliness.

To sail from hence to Bardsey Island is both tedious and dangerous. Passing the bay called Hell’s Mouth, of which Mr. Bingley says, “I never saw a place which presented so favourable an appearance, and that was at the time so much dreaded by the mariners as the present. It is at the very end of the promontory, and from point to point is supposed to measure about eight miles; it is also nearly semicircular. None but strange vessels, even in the most boisterous weather, ever seek for shelter here; and when they are so unfortunate, they are soon stranded, and never again return. ‘We remember,’ says Mr. Jones, in one of his letters, ‘more misfortunes to have happened in this bay, and more inhumanity shewn to the sufferers, than we have ever heard of any where else on the Welsh coast.’ My pilot, who had been long acquainted with every part of these coasts, informed me, that, from whatever point of the compass the wind blew out at sea, on account of the surrounding high rocks, it always came into the mouth of this bay; and from whatever quarter the tide flowed, the upper current here always sets inwards. From these circumstances the common tradition is, that the place obtained the appellation of Hell’s Mouth.

“The whole coast, from the Rivals round the end of the land, nearly to Pwllheli, is terminated only by high and steep rocks, inhabited in the summer by a variety of sea-fowl.” Mr. Bingley, having failed in his attempt to land in Bardsey, gives the following account of that island, from the letters of the Rev. — Jones, vicar of Aberdaron, to whose parish it belongs.

ISLAND OF BARDSEY.

“This island, which is the property of Lord Newborough, is somewhat more than two miles long, and one in breadth, and contains about three hundred and seventy acres of land; of which nearly one-third is occupied by a high mountain, that affords feed only for a few sheep and rabbits. Its distance from the main land is about a league. Towards the south-east and south-west it lies entirely open, but on the north and north-east it is sheltered by its mountain, which to the sea presents a face of perpendicular, and in some parts overhanging rocks. Among these precipices the intrepid inhabitants, in the spring of the year, employ themselves in collecting the eggs of the various sea-fowl that frequent them. This is usually done bare-footed, to prevent them from slipping from heights, whence they must be dashed to pieces; and their concern for their safety while seizing these eggs, is infinitely less than that of the beholder, sitting securely in the boat below.

Nor untrembling canst thou see, How from a craggy rock, whose prominence Half o’ershades the ocean, hardy men Fearless of dashing waves do gather them.

“These poor fellows do not often meet with accidents, except by the giving way of pieces of the rock. In this case they are irrecoverably lost. The men who venture without ropes are accounted by the natives the most bold climbers: those who are more cautious fix a rope about their middle, which is held by some persons on the top of the rock. By this they slip down to the place where they think the most eggs are to be found. Here, untying it from their body, they fasten it to the basket that is to contain the eggs, which they carry in their hand. When this is filled, they make a signal to their companions to draw them up. In this manner they proceed from rock to rock, ascending or descending as they find it necessary. They adopt the same modes in collecting samphire, with which the rocks also abound.

“On the south-east side of the island, the only side on which it is accessible to the mariner, there is a small but well-sheltered harbour, capable of admitting vessels of thirty or forty tons burthen. In this the inhabitants secure their own fishing-boats. The soil is principally clay, and produces excellent barley and wheat; vetches, peas, and beans, are said to succeed sufficiently well; but to oats it is not so favourable. Trees will not grow here, the keen westerly winds immediately destroying the young plants. Indeed, except a small quantity of fine meadow land, all the lower ground of the island is of little value. No reptile is ever seen in this island, except the common water lizard. None of the inhabitants ever saw in it a frog, toad, or snake of any kind.

“Till about fourteen years ago, no sparrows had been known to breed here: three nests were, however, built, during the same spring, and the produce has since completely colonized the place.

“There are here but eight houses, although the number of inhabitants is upwards of seventy. Two or three of the principal of these rent the island of Lord Newborough. They pay for it a hundred guineas a-year, and have their land tithe free; and are also freed from taxes and rates of every description. They keep about twenty horses and near thirty cows. All the former, though greatly overstocking so small a place, are absolutely necessary, on account of the great labour required in carrying up the sea-weeds from the coast for manure.

“The sheep are small, and on the approach of a stranger, as Mr. Jones informs me, they squall not much unlike hares. Their activity is very remarkable. In the year 1801, Mr. Jones had one of them on his farm, at Aberdaron, that had twice ventured through the sea, though the channel is three miles across, and regained the island. The inhabitants train their dogs to catch them; but if the sheep once gain the rocks, they bid defiance to every attempt for the time, as, rather than suffer themselves to be seized, they will plunge from thence into the sea. At the time of the year when the females usually drop their offspring, the inhabitants watch them every day, and before they are able to follow their dams, they mark them in the ears: they then suffer them to range at liberty. Without this attention, from the extreme wildness of the animals, the owners would never be able to distinguish their respective property. Some few of the sheep of the island, from having been rendered tame when young, are more easily managed: these alone submit to be folded in the evening.

“Curiosity induces many persons to visit this island almost every summer; but the grandest sight the present inhabitants ever witnessed, was a visit of the proprietor, Lord Newborough, and several persons of distinction, in the whole to the number of about forty. This company embarked in fishing-smacks from Porther, near Carreg Hall, in the parish of Aberdaron. On their arrival in the island marquees were immediately pitched. The whole company dined in the open air; and at the conclusion of their repast, all the inhabitants were assembled. The ensuing scene reminded a gentleman of my acquaintance, who was present, of what he had read respecting the inhabitants of some of the South Sea islands. They were drawn up into a circle, and Lady Newborough adorned the heads of the females with caps and ribbons, whilst Lord Newborough distributed hats among the men. The nominal king and queen of the island were distinguished from the rest by an additional ribbon.”

Mr. B. concludes by giving the following history of Bardsey.

“The Welsh name of this place is Ynys-Enlli. During the violent struggles between the Welsh and English, it was styled by the poets the sanctuary or asylum of the Saints, and it was sometimes denominated the Isle of Refuge. Some of these poets assert that it was the cemetery of twenty thousand saints! [155]

“The reputed sanctity of this island induced the religious to resort to it, from many very distant parts of the country. It has been asserted by several writers, that Roderic Moelwynog, prince of North Wales, first founded here a monastery, some time in the eighth century. He might, perhaps, rebuild or enlarge it, but there are good grounds, from Welsh manuscripts, for supposing that there was a religious house in this island of a much more early date. There is an old legend yet extant, written in Monkish Latin, which assures us that the Almighty had entered into a particular covenant with Laudatus, the first abbot of Bardsey, in return for the piety of his monks. This granted to all the religious of the monastery of Bardsey, the peculiar privilege of dying according to seniority, the oldest always going off first. By this privilege, it is stated, that every one knew very nearly the time of his departure. The following is a translation of it:—‘At the original foundation of the monastery of this island, the Lord God who attendeth to the petitions of the just, at the earnest request of the holy Laudatus, the first abbot, entered into a covenant with that holy man, and miraculously confirmed his promise, unto him, his successors, the abbots and monks for ever, while they should lead holy and religious lives, that they should die by succession, that is, that the oldest should die first, like a shock of corn ripe for the sickle. Being thus warned of the approach of death, each of them, therefore, should watch, as not knowing at what exact hour the thief might come; and, being thus always prepared, each of them by turns should lay aside his earthly form. God, who is ever faithful, kept his covenant, as he formerly did with the Israelites, inviolable; until the monks no longer led a religious life, but began to profane and defile God’s sanctuary by their fornications and abominable crimes. Wherefore, after this, they were permitted to die like other men, sometimes the older, sometimes the younger, and sometimes the middle-aged first; and, being thus uncertain of the approach of death, they were compelled to submit to the general laws of mortality. Thus, when they ceased to lead a holy and religious life, God’s miraculous covenant also ceased: and do thou, therefore, O God, have mercy upon us.”

The ancient building is now entirely destroyed; but, about the ground where the monastery stood, a great number of graves have very lately been discovered, lined with white stone or tile, and distant about two feet from each other. All the religious duties of the inhabitants are now performed in the parish church of Aberdaron. Sometimes, however, in stormy weather, they are under the necessity of interring their own dead in the island.

At Pwllheli good accommodation will be found at the Crown and Anchor Inn, but if proceeding farther into Llyn, the traveller must depend solely on the hospitality of individuals.

PWLLHELI.

The market-days at this place are Wednesdays and Saturdays. Its population is rated at about thirteen hundred. The beach here is excellent; and so much resorted to in the summer season, that it appears probable it will grow into notice as a sea bathing-place. Several hundred acres of land in the vicinity of the town, which used to be overflowed by high tides, have been reclaimed by embankments on both sides of the town. It is governed by a mayor, two bailiffs, and a recorder.

Returning from Pwllheli towards Criccaeth, the country wears the most beautiful aspect. The richly wooded scenery is relieved by shaggy rocks and partial views of the sea being caught through the opening glades. Passing Llandstundwy, situate on the river Dwyfor, which after heavy rains overflows its banks, and greatly incommodes it, I left the road, and proceeded by Trefan Hall, the handsome mansion of Mr. Roberts, to a cromlech, about a mile distant, called Coeten Arthur, or Arthur’s Quoit, which the said Arthur, as report says, threw from a mountain near Beddgelert. It is handsome and in high preservation: the top stone is nearly three feet in thickness. But a still finer cromlech is about a mile from this, at a farm called Ystim Cegid; the flat stone of this is about eighteen inches in thickness, and is about thirty-six feet in circumference: its form is triangular, and its supporters of that height, that will allow a man on horseback to go under it; this also is called Arthur’s Quoit. From hence to Criccaeth the road is dull and uninteresting: near the ruins of the small chapel of Bettws, is Chewilog, an old mansion, formerly belonging to the ancestors of Sir Howel, surnamed y-Fwyall, from his remarkable dexterity in the use of the battle-axe, which weapon he used with such effect in the battle of Poictiers, that the capture of the French monarch is, by many, ascribed to him; at all events, his conduct on that day drew down upon him the regards of the Black Prince to such extent, that he not only bestowed upon him the constableship of Criccaeth Castle, but likewise knighted him; and, in perpetual memorial of his good services, it was directed that a mess of meat should, at the expence of the crown, be every day served up before the axe with which he had performed such good service. After the mess had been brought before the knight, it was taken and distributed among the poor. Eight yeomen attendants were constituted to guard the mess, who received each eight-pence a-day pay, and were termed yeomen of the crown: these were continued on the establishment till the reign of Queen Elizabeth; and it is by many conceived, and by no means improbable, that the yeomen of the crown, which we do not read of in history till the reign of Henry the Seventh, are indebted to these for their origin. After the death of Sir Howel, the mess was still carried before the axe, and bestowed on the poor for the repose of his soul. Besides the above honours conferred upon him, he was constable of Chester Castle; had Dwyfor and others, the king’s mills, to farm; with a grant of the weirs and fisheries on the coast, and many other offices of great trust and profit.

Between Criccaeth and Penmorva you pass Stumllyn, formerly the seat of the Wynnes, now the seat of — Jones, Esq. of Machynlleth. Near Clenenney, on Bwlch Craig Wenn, is a fine Druidical circle, consisting at present of thirty-eight stones; and about a mile from this, above Penmorva, is another. On Llysdin farm some small urns, containing human bones and ashes, have lately been discovered. At a small distance is Brynkir, where Lord Lyttleton took up his residence when he visited this part of the principality. This part of the country was formerly the seat of dreadful feuds, and appears to have been inhabited by a most ferocious and irascible set of beings. They were of two clans, one descended from Owen Gwynedd, Prince of North Wales; the other was derived from Collwyn ap Tangno. The history of Evionedd, or Eifionydd, is during that period one of revenge, perfidy, and slaughter; and to such extent was it carried, that Meredith ap Jevan preferred taking up his residence in Dolwyddelan Castle, at that time surrounded by robbers and freebooters, to residing in this district, giving to his friends the following decisive reason: “If,” said he, “I live in my own house in Evionedd, I must either kill my own kinsmen, or submit to be murdered by them.” He, therefore, rather chose to fight with thieves and outlaws than with his own immediate relatives.

“They would quarrel,” says Sir John Wynne, “if it was but for the mastery of the country, and the first good morrow. John Owen, ap John, ap Meredydd, and Howel ap Madoc Vychan, fell out for no other reason. Howel and his people fought valiantly: when he fell, his mother placed her hand on his head, to prevent the fatal blow, and had half her hand and three of her fingers cut off, by some of her nearest kindred. An attempt was made to kill Howel ap Rhys, in his own house, by the sons of John ap Meredith, for no other reason than that their servants had quarrelled about a fishery. The first set fire to the mansion with great bundles of straw:—the besieged, terrified with the flames, sheltered themselves under forms and benches, while Rhys, the old hero, stood sword in hand, reproaching his men with cowardice, and telling them he had often seen a greater smoke in that hall on Christmas even.

“These flagitious deeds seldom met with any other punishment than what resulted from private revenge, and too often composition was made for the most horrible murders. There was a gwerth, or price of blood, from the slaughter of a king, to the cutting off one of his subject’s little fingers.”—Williams’s Caernarvon.

PENMORFA,

the Head of the Marsh, is a wood-clad village, romantically situated in a nook, between some high rocks at the end of a tract of meadows, on the western bank of Traeth Mawr.

The church contains a monument to the memory of Sir John Owen, a valiant commander in the army, and a staunch supporter of Charles I. Being tried with the Earl of Holland, Lords Loughborough, Goring, and other noble supporters of the royal cause, after the death of the king, he exhibited a spirit coinciding with his former noble daring; and, on being condemned to lose his head, he bowed to the court, thanking them for the honour they intended him. On being asked by a member what he meant, in his usual blunt manner he replied, “I think it a great honour for a poor gentleman of Wales to lose his head with such noble lords:—by G—, I was afraid you would have hanged me.”

Great intercession being made for the other noble personages, and no one applying or interesting themselves on behalf of Sir John, Cromwell, as related by some authorities, and Hutchinson and Ireton, as stated by others, interfered for the worthy knight, whose life was spared: after a few months’ confinement he was allowed to retire to Clenenney, where he died.

Mr. Williams, rector of Llanberis, from whose work, recently published, on the history, antiquities, &c. of Caernarvonshire, I before quoted, says, in speaking of the situation of Penmorfa, and the meadows lying between it and Traeth Mawr, “they were formerly subject to the overflowing of the higher tides, till an embankment was made by W. A. Madox, Esq. a gentleman to whom this part of the country is greatly indebted for numerous and great improvements, particularly for the erection of an embankment, about a mile in length, in order to reclaim some thousand acres of land, and which now forms a safe and convenient road between the counties of Caernarvon and Merioneth, across the estuary of Traeth Mawr; whereas, formerly, many lives were lost in going over those dangerous sands. Tremadoc, a new town, which bears the name of its founder, is about a mile distant from Penmorfa, and contains from eighty to a hundred houses. Here is a handsome new church, a market-place, a comfortable inn, and a great number of good shops. Near the town are several good houses, built by the same gentleman, particularly Tan-yr-Allt, Morva Lodge, &c.; all of which, as well as every thing in or about this little town, evidently prove the individual who planned and conducted the whole, to be a person of cultivated mind, improved taste, and superior judgment and ability. A market has been established here, and the fairs, which used to be at Penmorfa on the following days, March 6, May 14, August 20, September 25, and November 12, have mostly deserted that place, and are held at Tremadoc. Here is an excellent salmon fishery, a good shore for bathing, and a safe harbour for vessels under 120 tons burthen. It is greatly to be lamented; that the beneficial improvements by the before-mentioned public-spirited gentleman, W. A. Madox, Esq. and carried by him to such a state of forwardness, should not be completed. In the year 1625, Sir John Wynne, of Gwydir, conceived the great design of gaining this immense track (Traeth Mawr), as well as the lesser one (Traeth Bach), from the sea, by means of an embankment; and for that purpose he implored the assistance of his illustrious countryman, Sir Hugh Middleton, in a letter which has been preserved, and, together with that gentleman’s reply, printed in Mr. Pennant’s Tour. A bridge over Traeth Bach, and a new line of road along the sea-coast to Barmouth, with a stage coach or some other more regular mode of conveyance between North and South Wales, particularly during the summer months, are still left among the desiderata of this portion of the principality.”

From Tremadoc, an excellent road of about five miles 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 description of that place. Of this, indeed, we found an instance on the very spot. This bridge connects the two counties of Merioneth and Caernarvon; 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 Parys Mountain, confidently asserted, that one pound of this ore was now esteemed equivalent to twice the quantity produced in Anglesea. Yet, for a considerable time, little advantage was derived from the concern, till a company obtained a lease of the mountain from Mr. Lloyd, the proprietor: and having placed an intelligent agent in a house near the mines, entered on the concern with that spirit which merited success. 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 reflect, 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.”

Situate at the junction of three vales, its beautiful meadows form a fine contrast to the surrounding rugged scenery. The church is small, but lofty; it is supposed to be erected on the site of an ancient priory of Augustine monks, dedicated to St. Mary, and founded, according to the account of Mr. Rymer, in his Fœdera, by Llewelyn ap Iorweth, in gratitude for the preservation of his son, and as an atonement for the rash effects of his intemperate rage, so pathetically described in the following poem: but both the Mr. Williamses, who have written on Caernarvonshire, support the opinion of its earlier establishment, looking upon it as the most ancient foundation in the country except Bardsey. Its revenues, according to the Reverend P. B. Williams’s account, must have been considerable; which he likewise accounts for as necessary, from its being on the great road from England and South Wales to North Wales, and from Ireland to England. In order to enable the prior to keep up his usual hospitality, Edward the First, after it had greatly suffered by fire in 1283, most generously, at his own expense, repaired all the damages; and Bishop Anian, about the year 1286, to obtain for it benefactions, remitted to all such benefactors, who truly repented of their sins, forty days of any penance inflicted on them.

BEDDGELERT, OR, THE GREYHOUND’S GRAVE.

BY WILLIAM SPENCER.

The spearmen heard the bugle sound, And cheerly smiled the morn; And many a brach, and many a hound, Attend Llewelyn’s horn.

And still he blew a louder blast, And gave a louder cheer; “Come, Gelert, why art thou the last Llewelyn’s horn to hear?

“Oh where does faithful Gelert roam? The flower of all his race; So true, so brave: a lamb at home; A lion in the chase.”

’Twas only at Llewelyn’s board The faithful Gelert fed; He watch’d, he serv’d, he cheer’d his lord, And centinel’d his bed.

In sooth, he was a peerless hound, The gift of royal John: [166] But now no Gelert could be found, And all the chase rode on.

And, now, as over rocks and dells The gallant chidings rise, All Snowdon’s craggy chaos yells With many mingled cries.

That day Llewelyn little loved The chase of hart or hare, And scant and small the booty proved, For Gelert was not there.

Unpleased, Llewelyn homeward hied: When near the royal seat, His truant Gelert he espied, Bounding his lord to greet.

But when he gain’d his castle door, Aghast the chieftain stood: The hound was smear’d with gouts of gore, His lips and fangs ran blood!

Llewelyn gazed with wild surprise, Unused such looks to meet; His favourite check’d his joyful guise, And crouch’d, and lick’d his feet.

Onward in haste Llewelyn past, And on went Gelert too: And still, where’er his eyes he cast, Fresh blood-gouts shock’d his view!

O’erturn’d his infant’s bed he found, The blood-stain’d covert rent: And all around the walls and ground, With recent blood besprent.

He call’d his child; no voice replied; He search’d with terror wild; Blood, blood, he found on every side, But nowhere found the child!

“Hell-hound, by thee my child’s devour’d!” The frantic father cried: And to the hilt the vengeful sword, He plunged in Gelert’s side.

His suppliant, as to earth he fell, No pity could impart; But still his Gelert’s dying yell Past heavy o’er his heart.

Aroused by Gelert’s dying yell, Some slumberer waken’d nigh: What words the parent’s joy can tell, To hear his infant cry!

Conceal’d between a mingled heap, His hurried search had miss’d; All glowing from his rosy sleep, His cherub boy he kiss’d!

Nor scratch had he, nor harm, nor dread, But the same couch beneath Lay a great wolf, all torn, and dead, Tremendous still in death!

Ah! what was then Llewelyn’s pain! For now the truth was clear; The gallant hound the wolf had slain, To save Llewelyn’s heir.

Vain, vain was all Llewelyn’s woe; “Best of thy kind, adieu! The frantic deed which laid thee low, This heart shall ever rue!”

And now a gallant tomb they raise, With costly sculpture deckt; And marbles storied with his praise Poor Gelert’s bones protect.

Here never could the spearman pass, Or forester unmoved; Here oft the tear-besprinkled grass Llewelyn’s sorrow proved.

And here he hung his horn and spear, And oft, as evening fell, In fancy’s piercing sounds would hear Poor Gelert’s dying yell!

And till great Snowdon’s rocks grow old, And cease the storm to brave, The consecrated spot shall hold The name of Gelert’s grave.

Since the author’s first visit, much has been added to the picturesque scenery of Beddgelert, through the liberal and patriotic spirit of Thomas Jones of Bryntirion, Esq. the worthy proprietor of this romantic vale. A most excellent inn has been erected, and no expense spared in rendering the accommodations for the tourist and the traveller the most attractive, as well as the most comfortable. It is worthy of remark, that this spot was selected by the monks as favourable to the desponding gloom of popish superstition. The parish church, which is situated within a few hundred yards of this inn, was formerly a part of a priory of Augustine monks, founded by Anion, Bishop of Bangor, in the thirteenth century; and supposed by some to be the oldest religious house in Wales. Part of the cloisters still remain. The monastery was destroyed by fire during the reign of Edward the First. The present appearance of the vale is, however, calculated to produce sensations of a very different description, and presents objects the most alluring to the lovers of mountain scenery. The tourist, whether he be a poet, a philosopher, or an antiquary, will here find abundant sources of recreation to detain him for some days. Within the distance of an hour’s walk from the inn, are situated

THE VALE OF NANHWYNAN,

beautifully diversified by thriving plantations and elegant villas. In this vale stands Dinas Emrys, or the Castle of Ambrosius, to which Vortigern is said to have fled for refuge, after having called in the Saxons; by which he for some time avoided the odium and persecution of his countrymen.

THE PASS OF DRWSYCOED,

commanding a most splendid view of the lakes of Nantlle, including the floating island, mentioned by Camden, the sea being also visible at a distance. Here King Edward is said to have encamped his army in his last expedition into Wales, when he completed the subjugation of the country.

Beddgelert is now a thoroughfare, with a good road from Caernarvon to Dolgelly, Welsh Pool, Shrewsbury, Bishop’s Castle, Ludlow, and Worcester; it is therefore a most convenient station from whence to make excursions to some of the most interesting scenery in North Wales, among the first of which is the ascent of the mighty and once wood-covered 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 form such a 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 [170] as our conductor over the mountain, who entertained us much with displaying, in strong colours, the tricks and impositions of his brother guides. [171]

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 high way 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 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 style 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 affording only 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 of vociferation, shewing us the obedience of the sheep, who instantaneously flocked around 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 his 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 passed 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 rarefaction 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 a map, its flat and uncultivated plains, bounded by the rich and inexhaustible Parys 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, to which this height must naturally be exposed.

We remained in this situation for a considerable time, and endeavoured, without success, to enumerate the several lakes, forests, 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 prospect 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 unobscured 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.

The view from the summit of Snowdon is thus described by the author of the Beauties, Harmonies, and Sublimities of Nature.

“After climbing over masses of crags and rocks, we ascended the peak of Snowdon, the height of which is 3571 feet above the level of the Irish Sea. Arrived at its summit, a scene presented itself, magnificent beyond the powers of language! Indeed, language is indigent and impotent, when it would presume to sketch scenes, on which the Great Eternal has placed his matchless finger with delight. Faint are thy broad and deep delineations, immortal Salvator Rosa! Powerless and feeble are your inspirations, Genius of Thomson, Virgil, and Lucretius!

“From this point are seen more than five-and-twenty lakes. Seated on one of the crags, it was long before the eye, unaccustomed to measure such elevations, could accommodate itself to scenes so admirable:—the whole appearing as if there had been a war of the elements; and as if we were the only inhabitants of the globe permitted to contemplate the ruins of the world. Rocks and mountains, which, when observed from below, bear all the evidences of sublimity, when viewed from the summit of Snowdon, are blended with others as dark, as rugged, and as elevated as themselves; the whole resembling the swellings of an agitated ocean.

“The extent of this prospect appears almost unlimited. The four kingdoms are seen at once: Wales, England, Scotland, and Ireland! forming the finest panorama the empire can boast. The circle begins with the mountains of Cumberland and Westmoreland; those of Ingleborough and Penygent, in the county of York, and the hills of Lancashire forefollow: then are observed the counties of Chester, Flint, Denbigh, and a portion of Montgomeryshire. Nearly the whole of Merioneth succeeds; and drawing a line with the eye along the diameter of the circle, we take in the regions, stretching from the triple crown of Cader Idris to the sterile crags of Carnedds-David, and Llewelyn. Snowdon, rising in the centre, appears as if he could touch the south with his right hand, and the north with his left. ‘Surely,’ thought Colonna, ‘Cæsar sat upon these crags, when he formed the daring conception of governing the world!’

“From Cader Idris, the eye, pursuing the orbit of the bold geographical outline, glances over the bay of Cardigan, and reposes for a while on the summit of the Rivel. After observing the indented shores of Caernarvonshire, it travels over a long line of ocean, till, in the extremity of the horizon, the blue mountains of Wicklow terminate the perspective. Those mountains gradually sink along the coast, till they are lost to the eye; which, ranging along the expanse, at length, as weary of the journey, reposes on the Island of Man, and the distant mountains of Scotland. The intermediate space is occupied by the sides and summits of mountains, hollow crags, masses of rocks, the towers of Caernarvon, the fields of Anglesea, with woods, lakes, and glens, scattered in magnificent confusion. A scene like this commands our feelings to echo, as it were, in unison to its grandeur and sublimity: the thrill of astonishment and the transport of admiration seem to contend for the mastery; and nerves are touched that never thrilled before. We seem as if our former existence were annihilated; and as if a new epoch were commenced. Another world opens upon us; and an unlimited orbit appears to display itself, as a theatre for our ambition.”

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.

Mr. Williams, of Llandegai, in his observations on the Snowdon mountains (which, from his having been a resident on the spot, may be considered as entitled to the greatest credit,) makes the following remarks on the probable derivation of their names, and the customs and manners of their inhabitants.

“It would be endless to point out the absurd conjectures and misrepresentations of those who have of late years undertaken to describe this country. Some give manifestly wrong interpretations of the names of places, and others, either ignorantly or maliciously, have as it were caricatured its inhabitants. Travellers from England, often from want of candour, and always from defect of necessary knowledge, impose upon the world unfavourable as well as false accounts of their fellow-subjects in Wales; yet the candour of the Welsh is such, that they readily ascribe such misrepresentations to an ignorance of their language, and a misconception of the honest, though perhaps warm temper of those that speak it. And it may be, travellers are too apt to abuse the Welsh, because they cannot or will not speak English. Their ignorance ought not to incur disgust: their reluctance proceeds not from stubbornness, but from diffidence, and the fear of ridicule.

“NATIVES OF ERYRI.

“The inhabitants of the British mountains are so humane and hospitable, that a stranger may travel amongst them without incurring any expense for diet or lodging. Their fare an Englishman may call coarse; however, they commonly in farm-houses have three sorts of bread, namely, wheat, barley, and oatmeal; but the oatmeal they chiefly use; this, with milk, butter, cheese, and potatoes, is their chief summer food. They have also plenty of excellent trout, which they eat in its season. And for the winter they have dry salted beef, mutton, and smoked rock venison, which they call Côch ar Wyden, i.e. The Red upon the Withe, being hung by a withe, made of a willow or hazel twig. They very seldom brew ale, except in some of the principal farm-houses: having no corn of their own growing, they think it a superfluous expense to throw away money for malt and hops, when milk, or butter-milk mixed with water, quenches the thirst as well.

“They are hardy and very active; but they have not the perseverance and resolution which are necessary for laborious or continued undertakings, being, from their infancy, accustomed only to ramble over the hills after their cattle. In summer they go barefoot, but seldom barelegged, as has been lately asserted by a traveller. They are shrewd and crafty in their bargains, and jocular in their conversation; very sober, and great economists; though a late tourist has given them a different character. Their greetings, when they meet any one of their acquaintance, may to some appear tedious and disagreeable: their common mode of salutation is ‘How is thy heart? how the good wife at home, the children, and the rest of the family?’ and that often repeated. When they meet at a public-house, they will drink each other’s health, or the health of him to whom the mug goes at every round. They are remarkably honest.

“Their courtships, marriages, &c. differ in nothing from what is practised on these occasions among the lowlanders or other Welsh people; but as there are some distinct and local customs in use in North Wales, not adopted in other parts of Great Britain, I shall, by way of novelty, relate a few of them:—When Cupid lets fly his shaft at a youthful heart, the wounded swain seeks for an opportunity to have a private conversation with the object of his passion, which is usually obtained at a fair, or at some other public meeting; where he, if bold enough, accosts her, and treats her with wine and cakes. But he that is too bashful will employ a friend to break the ice for him, and disclose the sentiments of his heart: the fair one, however, disdains proxies of this kind, and he that is bold, forward, and facetious, has a greater chance of prevailing, especially if he has courage enough to steal a few kisses: she will then probably engage to accept of his nocturnal visit the next Saturday night. When the happy hour arrives, neither the darkness of the night, the badness of the weather, nor the distance of the place, will discourage him, so as to abandon his engagement. When he reaches the spot, he conceals himself in some out-building, till the family go to rest. His fair friend alone knows of and awaits his coming. After admittance into the house a little chat takes place at the fire-side, and then, if every thing is friendly, they agree to throw themselves on a bed, if there is an empty one in the house; when Strephon takes off his shoes and coat, and Phillis only her shoes; and covering themselves with a blanket or two, they chat there till the morning dawn, and then the lover steals away as privately as he came. And this is the bundling or courting in bed, [181] for which the Welsh are so much bantered by strangers.

“This courtship often lasts for years, ere the swain can prevail upon his mistress to accept of his hand. Now and then a pregnancy precedes marriage, but very seldom, or never, before a mutual promise of entering into the marriage state is made. When a matrimonial contract is thus entered into, the parents and friends of each party are apprised of it, and an invitation to the wedding takes place; where, at the appointed wedding-day, every guest that dines drops his shilling, besides payment for what he drinks. The company very often amounts to two or three hundred, and sometimes more. This donation is intended to assist the young couple to buy bed-clothes, and other articles necessary to begin the world. Nor does the friendly bounty stop here: when the woman is brought to bed, the neighbours meet at the christening, out of free good-will, without invitation, where they drop their money; usually a shilling to the woman in the straw, sixpence to the midwife, and sixpence to the cook; more or less, according to the ability and generosity of the giver.

“MODE OF BURYING.

“When the parish bell announces the death of a person, it is immediately inquired upon what day the funeral is to be; and on the night preceding that day all the neighbours assemble at the house where the corpse is, which they call Ty Corph, i.e. ‘the corpse’s house.’ The coffin, with the remains of the deceased, is then placed on the stools, in an open part of the house, covered with black cloth, or, if the deceased was unmarried, with a clean white sheet, with three candles burning on it. Every person on entering the house falls devoutly on his knees before the corpse, and repeats to himself the Lord’s Prayer, or any other prayer that he chooses. Afterwards, if he is a smoker, a pipe and tobacco are offered to him. This meeting is called Gwylnos, and in some places Pydreua. The first word means Vigil; the other is, no doubt, a corrupt word from Paderau, or Padereuau, that is, Paters, or Paternosters. When the assembly is full, the parish clerk reads the common service appointed for the burial of the dead: at the conclusion of which psalms, hymns, and other godly songs are sung; and since Methodism is become so universal, some one stands up and delivers an oration on the melancholy subject, and then the company drop away by degrees. On the following day the interment takes place, between two and four o’clock in the afternoon, when all the neighbours assemble again. It is not uncommon to see on such occasions an assembly of three or four hundred people, or even more. These persons are all treated with warm spiced ale, cakes, pipes, and tobacco; and a dinner is given to all those that come from far: I mean, that such an entertainment is given at the funerals of respectable farmers. [183a] They then proceed to the church; and at the end of that part of the burial service, which is usually read in the church, before the corpse is taken from the church, every one of the congregation presents the officiating minister with a piece of money; the deceased’s next relations usually drop a shilling each, others sixpence, and the poorer sort a penny a-piece, laying it on the altar. This is called offering, and the sum amounts sometimes to eight, ten, or more pounds at a burial. The parish clerk has also his offering at the grave, which amounts commonly to about one-fourth of what the clergyman received. After the burial is over the company retire to the public-house, where every one spends his sixpence for ale; [183b] then all ceremonies are over.”

Mr. W. then proceeds to explain the good and ill resulting from the prevalence of Methodism, and those fanatics termed Ranters, &c. and states, that “the mountain people preserve themselves, in a great measure, a distinct race from the lowlanders: they but very seldom come down to the lowlands for wives; nor will the lowlander often climb up the craggy steeps, and bring down a mountain spouse to his cot. Their occupations are different, and it requires that their mates should be qualified for such different modes of living.

“I will not scruple to affirm, that these people have no strange blood in their veins,—that they are the true offspring of the ancient Britons: they, and their ancestors, from time immemorial, have inhabited the same districts, and, in one degree or other, they are all relations.”

The vale of Llanberris 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 Gôch, brother to Llewellin, last prince, was confined in prison. This tower appears to have been the keep or citadel, about ninety feet in height, with a vaulted dungeon. At the extremity of the lower lake are the remains of a British fortification, called Caer cwm y Glô; and about half a mile from the castle, to the south, at the termination of a deep glen, is a waterfall, called Caunant Mawr; it rushes over a ledge of rocks upwards of twenty yards in height, falls some distance in an uninterrupted sheet, and then dashes with a tremendous roar through the impending fragments of the rock, till it reaches the more quiet level of the vale. Returning to the lakes, you have a fine view of the ruins, with the promontory on which they are situated; and that with greatly heightened effect, if favoured by their reflection on the glassy surface of the waters, to which you add the rocky heights on each side; Llanberris church relieving the mountain scenery, and the roughest and most rugged cliffs of Snowdon in the back-ground topping the whole, which give together a grand and pleasing coup-d’œil.

In this vicinity are large slate quarries, the property of Thomas Asheton Smith, Esq. and a rich vein of copper ore. These afford employ to great numbers of industrious poor: to the men, in obtaining the ore and slates, and the women and children in breaking, separating, and preparing the different sorts for exportation, or for undergoing farther preparatory processes to fit them for smelting. 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 Seiont, and built by “Harry Parry, the modern Inigo, A.D. 1791,” we soon entered this ancient town, very much fatigued from our long excursion.

The town 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 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 gateway 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 [186] in this tower, measuring eleven feet by seven, was born King Edward II. April 25, 1284. 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 King 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 in surveying one of the noblest castles in Wales, we walked round the environs of the town. The terrace [187] round the castle wall, when in existence, was exceedingly pleasing, being in front of the Menai, which is here upwards of a mile in breadth, forming a safe harbour, and is 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 the Marquess of Anglesea promises to become still more populous and extensive.

In Bangor-street is the Anglesea Arms hotel, a large and most respectable inn; where, as well as the Goat, the charges are moderate and the accommodations excellent.

Caernarvon is only a township and chapelry to Llanbeblic. Its market is on a Saturday, which is well supplied and reasonable; and with the spirited improvements made to the town and harbour, has been the means of greatly increasing its population: according to the late returns it contains 1008 houses, and 6000 inhabitants. The church, or rather chapel, has been rebuilt by subscription. Service is performed here in English, and at the mother church at Llanbeblic [188] in Welsh.

The port, although the Aber sand-banks, forming a dangerous bar, must ever be a great drawback upon it, has not only been wonderfully improved, but is in that progressive state of improvement by the modern mode of throwing out piers, that vessels can now, of considerable tonnage, lie alongside the quay, and discharge or take in their cargoes in perfect safety; this bids fair, as may be seen by the rapid increase of its population and tonnage, to make it a place of trade and considerable resort: yet still it only ranks as a creek, and its custom-house is made dependent on that of the haven of Beaumaris, to the comptroller of which its officer is obliged to report: this must be a considerable hindrance to its trade, particularly in matters out of the customary routine. The county hall, which is near the castle, is a low building, but sufficiently commodious within to hold with convenience the great sessions. Caernarvon possessed such great favour with Edward the First, as to have the first royal charter granted in Wales given to it. It is by that constituted a free borough. It has one alderman, one deputy mayor, two bailiffs, a town-clerk, two serjeants at mace, and a mayor; who, for the time, is governor of the castle, and is allowed 200l. per annum to keep it in repair. It jointly with Conway, Nevin, Criccaeth, and Pwllheli, sends a member to parliament, for the return of whom every inhabitant, resident or non-resident, who has been admitted to the freedom of the place, possesses a vote.

It is allowed to have a prison for petty offences independent of the sheriff. Its burgesses likewise were exempt throughout the kingdom from tollage, lastage, passage, murage, pontage, and all other impositions of whatever kind, with other privileges, too numerous to insert.

The county prison is likewise near the castle. It was erected in the year 1794. The new market-house, containing the butchers’ shambles, &c. is a well-contrived and convenient building, affording good storage for corn and other articles left unsold.

The site of the ancient town of Segontium, which lies about half a mile south of the present one, will be found worthy the attention of the traveller; it was the only Roman station of note in this part of Cambria, on which a long chain of minor forts and posts were dependent. It is even maintained, and that by respectable authorities, that it was not only the residence but burial-place of Constantius, father of Constantine the Great; but most probably this arises from confusing Helena, the daughter of Octavius, Duke of Cornwall, who was born at Segontium, and married to Maximus, first cousin of Constantine, with Helena, his mother, whom these authorities assert to have been the daughter of a British king. A chapel, said to have been founded by Helen, and a well which bears her name, are amongst the ruins still pointed out.