CHAP. VIII.

BARRIER OF NORTH AND SOUTH WALES—THE DEVIL’S BRIDGE—GRAND CATARACT OF THE MYNACH—CWM YSTWITH HILLS—HAFOD—ANCIENT ENCAMPMENTS—STARFLOWER ABBEY—TREGARRON—ROMAN ANTIQUITIES AT LLANDEWI BREVI—LAMPETER—LLANSAWEL EDWIN’S FORD—LLANDILO.

We were detained at Aberistwyth by the continuance of a violent rain which had deluged the neighbourhood for several days. At length a cessation of the storm allowed us to resume our journey, though not to perform a projected excursion to the summit of Plinlimmon, which is only free from clouds in very fair weather. Returning up the hilly confines of the valley, we again admired the meandering Rhydol, and its gentle accompanyment; but following its course, as weadvanced through a wild romantic district, the character of the valley soon changed; dark wooded hills, aspiring to the dignity of mountains, advanced their shagged sides toward the stream, and, gradually closing to an impervious glen, shut up the river in their recess. Beyond these hills rose the broken line of mountains forming the termination of South Wales, where mighty Plinlimmon, lord of the boundary, raised his stupendous head in majestic desolation, though half concealed by eddying clouds: the whole scene exhibited unfettered nature in her wildest mood. A pouring rain that now fell over us circumscribed our desert prospects, while we proceeded over uncultivated hills, with scarcely a token of society, to theDevil’s Bridge.

The Devil’s Bridge

The cataract that is here formed by the falls of the Mynach saluted us with its thundering roar, long ere we approached it; but, as we drew near, the strong verberation, rebellowed by surrounding cavernous rocks, seemed to convulse the atmosphere! We hastily put up our horses at the Hafod arms, a solitary inn; and in a few paces found ourselves on the bridge, suspended over a gulphat which even recollection shudders. This bridge bestrides a lane of almost perpendicular rocks, patched with wood, whose summits are here scarcely five yards asunder. At a terrific depth in the glen rages unseen the impetuous Mynach, engulphed beneath protruding craigs and pendant foliage: but on looking over the parapet, the half-recoiling sight discovers the phrenzied torrent, in one volume of foam, bursting into light, add threatening, as it breaks against the opposing rocks, to tear the mountains from their strong foundations; then, instantly darting into the black abyss beneath, it leaves the imagination free to all the terrors of concealed danger. With emotions of awe, nor without those of fear, we climbed down the side of the rock assisted by steps that were cut in it, and with some peril reached the level of the darkened torrent; where, standing on a projecting craig against which the river bounded, immersed in its spray and deafened by its roar, we involuntarily clung to the rock. The impression of terror subsiding, left us at liberty to examine the features of the scene. Nearly over our heads appeared the bridge attributed to the handy-works of the Devil;but a less cunning workman might have thrown an arch across a fissure of a few feet span; and indeed the native mason who, about 50 years since, built the bridge now used, standing perpendicularly over the old one, has constructed the best arch of the two. The original bridge was built by the Monks of Starflower Abbey near 700 years since. Nor is the singular appearance of these arches devoid of picturesque effect; being tastefully besprinkled with verdure, and relieved by the intervention of numerous branchy trees: while the naked black opposing cliffs, worn out into curious hollows by the torrents, exhibit as bold a rocky chasm as ever was traced by the pencil of Salvator.

On climbing from this hollow, we proceeded two or three hundred yards to the left of the bridge, and again descended a fearful track, to witness the grandfalls of the Mynach. Under the direction of a guide, we reached the ordinary station with little difficulty, where the view of the cataract disclosed itself with considerable effect, in four separate cascades; though, from the great fall’s being divided by the intervention of a projecting rock, they appeared too much alike: theeye, accustomed to picturesque disposition, in vain sought to fix itself on a pre-eminent feature. I wished to get lower, but it seemed impracticable: emboldened, however, by the example of our guide, I clambered upon the edge of an immense perpendicular strata of rock, to nearly the lower channel of the torrent; when the cataract appeared in the most perfect disposition imaginable: the great fall displayed itself in uninterrupted superiority, and the lesser ones retired as subordinate parts. The perpendicular descent of this cataract is not less than two hundred and ten feet; the first fall is not more than twenty feet; the next increases to sixty; the third diminishes to about twenty; then, after a momentary pause, the torrent bounds over a shelving rook in one tremendous fall of one hundred and ten feet, and soon unites with the Rhydol, here a similar mountain torrent.

Falls of the Mynach

This grand cataract receives no inconsiderable augmentation of terrific appearance from the black stratified rocks forming the glen down which it thunders; nor can the beholder, however firm his mind, divest himself of terror, while, near the bottom of an abyss for ever denied a ray of sun, heviews the menacing torrent bursting before him; or contemplates its foaming course tearing at his feet among craigs that its fury has disjoined. If he ventures to look up the acclivitous rock, more real danger threatens his return, when a devious balance or false step would ensure his certain destruction. Yet from the horrors of this gloomy chasm some favoured projections relieve the imagination, ornamented by the light and tasteful penciling of the mountain ash, intermixed with vigorous sapling oaks; while here and there a tree of riper years, unable to derive support from the scanty soil, falls in premature decay a prostrate ruin.—I have seen water-falls more picturesquely grand than the cataract of the Mynach, but none more awfully so, not even excepting the celebrated fells of Lowdore and Scaleforce in Cumberland.

Climbing from this scene of terrors, I rejoined my companion, and at the Haford Arms obtained a change of clothes; a comfort which, although wet to the skin for several hours, I should still longer have denied myself, had not the approach of night forced me from the Mynach’s interesting scenery. Our active hostess quickly provideda tolerable dinner of mutton chops; and, cheered by a good peat-fire and a bottle of wine, we listened to the torrent’s roar without dismay. On the following morning we did not neglect to revisit the romantic glen. The weather was fine; and, the effect of the late rains having subsided, the bulk of the torrent had much diminished; yet did the scene gain in beauty what it lost in terrific grandeur; for the intermingling foliage, darting from opposite sides of the glen, and reflecting various tints and degrees of light, softened the asperitous black rocks, and spread a lively net-work over the gloom.

Upon our preparing for the renewal of our journey, a material difficulty occurred; my poney was so completely knocked up, that he had not, as the jockeys phrase it, “a leg to stand on.” The alternative in this case was to buy another; and upon enquiry I found that my landlord had one to dispose of, which was forthwith produced. This was a good-sized poney, with plenty of bone, but ill-made; he had, however, an excellent character: his knees too were sadly broken; but a circumstantial tale shewed that to be the effect of accident, and not habitualawkwardness: upon the whole, he did not seem dear at the price demanded, which was only five guineas: a bargain was therefore struck, the saddle transferred from the invalid to the back of my new purchase; and after given directions for the return of the former, which by the way incurred an expence more than his value, we set forward for the celebrated grounds of Hafod, about two miles distant.

Our road lay on the steep bank of the Mynach, commanding a full view of the glen, and its romantic bridge. Then ascending the Cwm Ystwith hill, through a current of clouds, we gained from its summit an uninterrupted view of the whole range of North Walean mountains, stretching from the English counties to the great bay of Cardigan: the intervening hollows were concealed by fields of mist; so that the uncultivated heights exhibited a scene as rugged as when

“—Nature first made man,Ere the base laws of servitude began,And wild in woods the noble savage ran.”

We now took a farewel view of the Mynach’s glen, and quitted its interesting scenery, with such sensations as one feels inlosing a friend whose intercourse has afforded both pleasure and improvement. We then descended to the vale of Ystwith, but unenlivened by its scenery, for a morning mist floated through the valley and spread a veil over its charms. A handsome park gate announced the entrance ofHafod, and the thundering of an unseen waterfall formed a grand symphony to the spectacle that we were soon to witness.—Almost immediately the cloud of mist disappeared, rising like a huge curtain before us, and discovered such an assemblage of beauties, of cheerful walks and silent glens, of woody precipices, shadowy glades, garden thickets and waterfalls, that, considered with the barren wilds of the surrounding country, it secured a second Paradise rising from a newly-subsided chaos. This charming place, occupying a deep narrow valley, watered by the Ystwith, is the creation of Col. Johnes, whose persevering genius has forced a mantle of wood upon rocky precipices where nature seemed to deny the access of verdure, and who in his elegant and useful projects of farther improvement gives employment to the country around. Upon a spot judiciously chosen,where the banks of the valley gently incline, and the coverture of lofty woods afford a shelter from the north-eastern winds, stands the mansion, with a sloping lawn in front, commanding a comprehensive view of the enchanting valley; which if Dryden could but see, he would wish to recall the line,

“God never made his works for man to mend.”

On putting ourselves under the direction of the gardener, we were first led to the kitchen-garden, furnished with extensive forcing-houses, and replete with every necessary appendage. The flower-garden also displayed its appropriate charms; but from these atchievements of art we turned, without regret, to where the bold hand of nature reared the scene in stupendous majesty;

“There along the dale,With woods o’erhung, and shagg’d with mossy rocks,Where on each hand the gushing waters play,And down the rough cascade white dashing fall,”

we passed, enamoured with the incessant though congenial variety of our subject. After visiting the cold bath, a small sequestered building, a mazy walk romantically traced by the side of a brawling torrent, and amidsttangled shrubberies, led to a small cascade; and soon after a superior waterfall engaged our attention, where the whole volume of the Ystwith burst over a ledge of rocks in a composition truly grand and picturesque. But a scene of awful sublimity disclosed itself on exploring a dark cavernous passage in a rock and reaching its extremity, where a lofty cascade of transcendent beauty, throwing itself over a strata of black rocks, bounded close to the opening of the cave, and shrouded the aperture with its spray, as it became engulphed in a dark chasm beneath.

The towering mountains clothed with myriads of oaks, which environ this remarkable valley, afford a diversity of walks and combinations of view, to describe which words would be inadequate, and prove at best but tedious. A walk of twelve miles scarcely comprises a complete survey of the grounds, as we are told; but, being pressed for time, our perambulation was confined to a much smaller space; yet enough was seen to convince us that this is one of the most delightful rural retreats in the kingdom.

The mansion is a handsome modern edifice; in the Gothic style of architecture;which idea is perfectly consonant with the romantic cast of the scenery; and the general outline of the building is certainly pleasing: but we were sorry that Col. Johnes had not been better advised in the execution of this design, which though we had read of, in one place, as built “in themost correct taste,” and in another as “a mansion in theItalianstyle,” we found to be a heterogeneous jumble; wherein a bastard sort of Greek and Saxon architecture was blended with the prevailing Gothic. The house internally we understood to be richly fitted up, and furnished with an excellent library, but did not visit it; for, though thedemandof five shillings for the gardener’s attendance was willingly paid, yet the same sum, which we found would be required by the housekeeper, appeared to us more than the show of anyWelch housewas worth.

There always appears to me something very unworthy in great men allowing their servants to exact the sums that they do from the spectators of their grandeur; but, such emoluments are taken into the account of a servant’s hire, and in some measure contribute to the support of the great man’s establishment:as far as they do this, they indirectly form part of his revenue; and in that view I consider theGrandeeas somewhat of a mercenary showman, howevermagnifique.

A ride of nearly a mile extent, among delightful plantations, led us out of Hafod; when, crossing the Ystwith over a good stone bridge, we soon passed through a little romantic village on the road to Tregarron, from whence the country continued wild, without grandeur or interest, a succession of

“Barren heaths, and rushy meers,”

until the approach to Llandilo. In this mid-land route the hills were much less continuous than round the coast, and the valleys frequently extensive; but, overrun with peat-bogs, they neither displayed fertility nor beauty. About half way to Tregarron, a few hundred yards to the right of the road, were two considerable hills, each crowned with a large ancient encampment: we did not stop to examine them, but quickly turned off the road, over moorlands on our left, in search of the remains ofStarflowerorStrata Florida Abbey. We had no track to direct us; nordid a human creature appear for many miles: after a fruitless wandering, therefore, we gave up the object, with this consolation, that almost the only relic remaining is an ornamented circularly-arched gateway. Yet was this place, now lost in a trackless desert, once of high importance. Strata Florida Abbey (in British, Munachlog Ystrad flur) was founded anno 1164 for Cistertian Monks[123]by Rhesus Prince of South-Wales. In it many of the Welch Princes were buried, and their acts kept and recorded: it suffered considerably when Edward the First overran Wales, but was soon after repaired.

A sloppy ride brought us toTregarron: a poor straggling ill-built town, situated in an abrupt hollow watered by an arm of the Tivy; yet, plentifully interspersed with trees, it forms a pleasing relief to the surrounding dreariness. Its church is a respectable old building, and it boasts the dignity of a mayor. Our inn here afforded us a capacious dish of eggs and bacon for dinner; but, though it was not more than ordinarily strong and greasy for the wilds of Wales, we grew delicate, and,leaving our meal almost untasted, pursued our journey on the turnpike road to Lampeter. About three miles from Tregarron, immediately on the left of the road, we observed a large mound encircled by a moat; but could not determine whether it was the site of an antient citadel, or monumental of a deceased chieftain. In the same neighbourhood is the church of Landewi-Brevi, where in 522, at a Holy Synod, St. David opposed the opinions of the Pelagians. A prodigious petrified horn which is shewn at the church is said to have remained there from that time; and in the year 1187 Bishop Beck founded a college on the spot. Several Roman inscribed stones appear in and about the church; but at a place some distance southward of it, called Kaer Kestilh (the field of the castles), a great number have at various times been discovered, as also coins and Roman bricks. Dr. Gibson considers this to be the Lovantinum of Ptolemy, in which opinion he is followed by Mr. Horsley: Yet is this spot, the site of a Roman town, and once occupied by its legions, now with difficulty traced among barren fields remote from habitation:

“No busy steps the grass-grown foot-way tread,But all the bloomy flush of life is fled.”

From a fatiguing day’s journey we gladly reposed at a better inn than might be expected in so poor a town asLampeter; and the following morning sallied forth to visit a large old seat of Sir Robert Lloyd’s; which, we learned, “exhibited a striking appearance with its four great towers crowned with domes in the midst of well-planted inclosures, but now scarcely inhabited.” A thick mist denied us this view; so, crossing the long old bridge of Lampeter, we entered Carmarthenshire on our way to Llandilo. Nothing can be imagined more dreary than the first half of this ride; lying over an extensive range of lumpy hills, as remote from any thing picturesque as profitable. No tree, not a bush could be seen; and as we mournfully looked round, where, except the miserable road on which we travelled, no trace of society appeared, our disgusted sight would have even rested with pleasure on a furze bush. From such a region of sterility we gladly caught a gleam of cultivation, in some distant hills bordering on Brecknockshire; but more gladly still, on a sudden turn, welooked down on the pleasing little valleyLlansawel, watered by a crystaline branch of the Cothy. The sun had now dispersed the mists through which we set out, and shone direct on the vale: from its verdant level high hills, enjoying different degrees of cultivation, rose on every side; and under one of them, at the further end of the valley, the well-whitened village sparkled through the intervening foliage.

This valley was immediately succeeded another calledEdwin’s-ford, a delightful spot, whose high encircling hills are clothed with extensive plantations to their very summits. In the bottom, is a large old manor house belonging to Colonel Williams, beautified “above, below, around,” with leaded mercuries, shepherdesses, and sportsmen. Yet is this place, remaining in the genuine style of King William’s reign, with all its absurdities, more interesting; as shewing us a specimen of that time, than if it were patched up with modern improvements; or a new villa, of the packing-case mode of building that now prevails. We rode through the long avenues of trees that extend from the house; and, quitting the valley, descended to another,pleasingly decorated with wood, and the ruin of Talley church. A cheerful road, lined with

“Hedge-row elms and coppice green,”

now led us through a succession of swells and hollows, adorned with numerous plantations, particularly those of Lord Robert Seymour Conway’s, toLlandilo, a pretty market town, seated on a descent to the justly famed vale of Towey.

CHARMING VALE OF TOWEY—DINEVAWR CASTLE—GOLDEN GROVE—GRONGAR HILL—MIDDLETON HALL—CAREG-CANNON CASTLE—REFLECTIONS AT A FORD—GLENHEIR WATERFALL—AN ACCIDENT—PONT AR DULAS—RETURN TO SWANSEA.

Dinevawr Castle

At Landilo we hastily put up our horses, anxious to feast on the beauties that disclosed themselves as we approached the spot; and, learning thatNewton Park, the delightful seat of Lord Dinevawr, afforded the most extensive and picturesque views of the vale, we engaged the keeper’s attendance, and proceeded among waving lawns and woody gnolls to a bold hill, where,

“Bosom’d high in tufted trees,”

appeared the picturesque remains ofDinevawr castle. A winding path, cut throughthe leafy honours of this hill, conveyed us beneath their dark umbrage to the top. We here climbed a massy fragment of the ruin, and entered a falling apartment, which, according to our guide’s information, was once the lady’s dressing-room; where, reaching a Gothic window overhung with ivy, a prospect burst upon us, teeming with the most fascinating circumstances of verdant nature; a galaxy of picturesque beauty, at which remembrance becomes entranced, and description faulters! Immediately beneath, the expansive vale ofToweyappears in the fullest display of its charms; a hue of the richest green marks the luxuriance of the soil through the course of the valley, which, continually intersected with dusky hedge-rows, boasts all the elegance of garden parterres. The translucid Towey here wantons in perpetual variety among gay meadows and embowering plantations, where the eye with pleasure traces its fantastic meanders until they disappear behind projecting groves. The rich wood that surrounds the castellated hill clothes a precipitous descent to the water’s edge, and, with other sylvan decorations of Newton park, forms the nearmost boundary of the vale.On the opposite side, a huge wild mountain rears its head in desolation to the clouds; and beneath it Golden Grove,[130]despoiled of its leafy grandeur, now appears in diminished beauty. Several smaller seats and whitened hamlets start up in the valley, and, glistening through their appendant groves, give life to the scene. A little westward,Grongar hill, immortalized by the muse of Dyer, and now the property of one of his descendants, advances on the vale and partly turns its course; but at some distance further, a rugged hill, bearing the mouldering fragments of Gruslwyn castle, proudly bestrides the plain and terminates the picture. Our view of this scene was favoured by the departing sun, which, just setting behind Gruslwyn ruin, threw a glowing tint over the landscape; its golden effulgence shone strongly on the varied hills, and gleamed on the lofty groves that adornedthe vale; though the greater part of it was obscured in grandly-projected shadows.[131]

After a week’s journey through an extensive tract of country, with few exceptions as devoid of picturesque interest as of productiveness, to come at once upon a scene so pregnant with the bounty and beauty of nature, was a feast for the feelings of philanthropy and picturesque enthusiasm that I shall never forget; nor do I imagine that the coldest mortal could fail of feeling a lively interest in so delightful a change—We

“—cast a longing ling’ring look behind”

on leaving this scene to examine the ruined castle. The extent of the apparent remains would lead one to consider it as a place of small importance; but we traced the vestiges of a wall and ditch at some distance from the conspicuous ruin, which indicate it to have been of considerable dimensions. The mostnoticeable parts are, the apartment already mentioned; a massive round tower, the ancient keep; and a subterraneous passage. Giraldus saw a castle here; but that was destroyed in the year 1194, about six years after his Itinerary; it was, however, soon rebuilt, and became the royal seat of the Princes of South Wales; but frequently changed its masters, until it fell to the crown of England. Henry the VIIth made a grant of it to Sir Rice ap Thomas, Knight of the Garter, a lineal descendant of the Welch Princes, and ancestor of the present proprietor. It was inhabited until within these 50 years, when the combustible part of it was destroyed by fire.

The mansion, built on a level about half a mile from the castle, is a large quadrangular structure, with turrets at each corner crowned with domes: it has lately been modernized; but appears to have been founded about two centuries back.—An avenue of trees extended from hence to the castle, which has lately been broken into clumps, in harmony with the general laying-out of the park. The hills of its strongly undulating surface are profusely covered with wood, and the hollowsenjoy a luxuriance of pasturage that can scarcely be equalled. On looking down some of these knolls, there appears no poetical licence in Dyer’s description:

“Below me trees unnumber’d rise,Beautiful in various dyes:The gloomy pines, the poplar blue,The yellow beech, the sable yew,The slender fir that taper grows,The sturdy oak with broad-spread boughs;And beyond the purple grove,Haunt of Phyllis, Queen of Love!”

We often regretted that the picturesque ruin of the castle was excluded from our view by the lofty trees that surround it: the laudable jealousy with which Lord Dinevawr preserves the woody embellishments of his park appeared to us as extending too far in this instance; for were a few openings introduced, so as to exhibit from various points the grand dimensions of some ivied towers, a fine effect might be produced, and a picturesque contrast obtained to the numerous woody swells that abound in this beautiful domain.

The morning that we left Llandilo brought with it a scene of affliction to the surrounding country: one of those deluging rains which often do so much mischief in mountainouscountries fell with unparalleled violence during the night; when the vast accession of water, unable to discharge itself by the ordinary channels, swept away trees, fences, small buildings, cattle, and poultry in its devious course. Several mills were destroyed; and many an industrious cottager, awakened by the flood eddying round his bed, saw himself at once dispossessed of the fruits of many years hard savings:

“Fled to some eminence, the husbandmanHelpless beheld the miserable wreckDriving along; his drowning ox at onceDescending, with his labours scatter’d round,He saw; and instant o’er his shivering thoughtCame winter unprovided, and a trainOf clamant children dear.”

On the storm’s abating, we renewed our journey, and, over a handsome stone bridge crossing the swollen Towey, which had acquired a frightful hue from the red marle of the neighbouring land, followed its course upon the road to Llangadock. At the first turnpike we deviated to the right, up a steep track rendered almost impracticable by loose craigs, by the side of a romantic dingle, down whose dark hollow a small cascade trickled with very good effect. In our ascent,delightful views were obtained of the upper vale of Towey, stretching from Llandilo bridge to the vicinage of Llandovery. The distant groves of Taliaris and Abermarle parks adorned this view, which was only inferior to that from Dinevawr-castle. As we advanced further, the rich prospect withdrew, and we found ourselves entering upon the dreary wilds of the Black Mountains; our track then became indistinct, wandering among rocks, floods, and up-rooted trees, unenlivened by a single habitation or human face. At length a cottage appeared, and we enquired our way to Careg-cannon castle; but “Dim Sarsnic”[135]was all we could gather from the inhabitants. Thus constrained to proceed at random, we mounted a precipitous hill over a track that formed the bed of a torrent, and discovered the object of our search upon a bold rock, a considerable distance on ourright: a little Welch farmer was also comprized in this view, working hard to repair the damages of the storm. We again enquired the best road to pursue, and again were answered with “Dim Sarsnic;” he however, signified to us that he would fetch some one, and accordingly ran over two or three fields, and returned with his daughter, a fine buxom girl who had picked up a little English at Llandilo market. Without intreaty she offered to be our guide; and, fixing in the ground a spade with which she had been clearing a water-course, blythely led us, through mountainous wilds, within a short distance of the object of our search.

As we ascended the rock, crowned with the frowning ruin of Careg-cannon castle, a tempestuous cloud that broke against it drenched us with a plentiful shower: we sought the shelter of the building, but the wind raged with such violence, that we shrunk from the mouldering battlements lest they should overwhelm us. On crossing the ruin through its “stormy halls,” we again recoiled on finding ourselves upon the brink of a tremendous precipice, which, except on the side by which we ascended, encompasses the castle in a perpendicularrocky cliff upwards of four hundred feet in height. Then climbing among the mossy fragments of the castle, we discovered an aperture in the ground connected with a long subterraneous gallery dug through the solid rock, and lighted by windows cut in the cliff, though not visible from any situation without. In exploring this strange recess, rendered more fearful by the loud shrieks of the wind, we advanced, not without sensations of awe: it terminated in a large gloomy cavern, fit scene for

“Murders, rapes, and massacres,Acts of black night, abominable deeds,Complots of mischiefs, treason, villaniesRuthful to hear.”

In this place we waited the passing of the storm, conjecturing it to have continued formerly to some adjacent spot, so as to form a sally-port or secret communication from the castle. On our return we felt more at liberty to examine the features of the ruin, which proved of the simplest construction, totally without ornament or a single Gothic form, and consisting of one irregular court with towers at each angle. If the Britons had any castles of stone before the arrival of the Normans(a fact doubted by some antiquaries), I should imagine this to be one; although a late tourist, I know not on what authority, ascribes its erection to the time of Henry the First. The position must have been formerly impregnable, and its rough aspect marks it to have been constructed for the mere business of war. By

—a lonely tower,—whose mournful chambers hold,To night-struck Fancy dreams, the yelling Ghost,

we passed from this wild abode, and floundered among ditch-like tracks to recover the high road from Llandilo to Swansea. In a romantic hollow we were stopped by a branch of the Towey; which, though in ordinary times an inconsiderable rivulet, was now swelled to a deep and menacing torrent. Here we found a party of men and women peasants on the opposite side, in doubt whether it might be safely crossed; but at length one of the men stripped and waded over, thus satisfying us that the ford was practicable. The rest followed; the men first getting rid of the lower part of their dress;—a trouble avoided by the females, who, unused to the encumbrance of shoes and stockings, hadonly to hold up their clothes to the highest extent; and, thus prepared, the whole party moved toward us. Viewing this remnant of barbarity with disgust, we at the same time felt uneasy for the situation of the girls: but we might have spared ourselves that pain; their countenances proved them to be unembarrassed by the consciousness of shame; nor did their eyes wander from the precise line in which they were going. The transaction was to them a matter of perfect indifference.

Careg-cannon Castle

It may reasonably be supposed, that the indecent customs of the Welch operate against the observance of chastity: yet seeing that the Welch are by no means deficient in that excellence, it may be supposed that were such scenes less frequent they would be so; but, as they are continually recurring, the imagination has no time to effervesce; it is at once saturated with naked facts, and on that principle the ebullitions of passion are kept under. On the one hand, those strong bulwarks decency and delicacy are done away; but on the other, the mind, fully informed, is not irritated by the conjurations of fancy; which may be a pretty fair set-off. Yet, withoutdoubt, their strongest safeguard exists in the considerative defence; for the moral turpitude and political infamy of unchastity is recognized in Wales to an extent that can hardly be conceived in circles of modern refinement: even at this day, in districts not yet drawn within the imposing vortex of trade,[140]a golden age of innocence may be discovered, where bastardy is unknown, or known but in recorded instances, in which the man is properly consigned to equal disgrace with the female offender.

Our travelling continued in rocky tracks, at the rate of a mile an hour, until we recovered the Llandilo road; from which we soon turned off, on the right, to visit Glenheir waterfall, in the grounds of Mr. Dubaison,about five miles south of Llandilo. At this place the Loughor river pursues its course between steep banks clothed with various trees and shrubs. On one of the descents a walk is traced, with some ingenuity, in front of a small picturesque cascade formed by a tributary stream to the Loughor. This might be mistaken for the object sought; but, crossing a rustic bridge, the eye on a sudden encounters the whole river rushing beneath a portal of trees, and throwing itself over a ledge of black rock in a single fall of eighteen feet. The effect of the whole, seen through the gloom of pendent trees, is undoubtedly striking; though, it must be confessed, the sheet of water presenting the formality of an unbroken square is somewhat unpicturesque. The person who attended us pointed out the effects of the torrent at fifteen feet above its surface, to which height it was swelled in the morning by the late storm; a greater rise than was ever known before: the cataract then exhibited a scene more tremendously grand than imagination can picture, or words describe; yet some idea may be formed in conceiving so vast a bulk of water, bursting over the precipice, stunning with its roar,and filling the atmosphere with its spray; while up-rooted trees, the shattered fragments of buildings, and other ruins, swept headlong on by the irresistible torrent, would illustrate its terrors, and complete a spectacle great indeed! Yet, alas, at how high a purchase, appeared from the lamentations of the neighbourhood! Nor were we without a share in the general calamity; for, crossing the Loughor at a ford about two miles further, my poney on a sudden slipped out of his depth, and we had separately to swim for our lives to the opposite bank. This disagreeable business was much aggravated; for my books, papers, and some other articles which I carried in a leather-case behind the saddle, were completely soaked, and several drawings utterly spoiled. My companion, having a taller horse, escaped, with only his boots full of water. Here it may not be amiss to apprize the traveller through Wales, that these fords (frequently occurring) are not unattended with danger after great falls of rain: at such times, a careful enquiry should be made of the people near them: a precaution that would have saved us our ducking; for it afterwards appeared, that no other travellershad crossed the ford during the day, but avoided it by taking a circuitous route.

In this plight we jogged on upwards of eight miles, with the unwelcome gloom of the Black Mountains on our left, and a pleasant diversified country on our right, to the village of Pont-ar-dulas, but which we did not reach before evening. The comfortable inn at this place afforded us a change of apparel and good cheer, that soon dissipated the inconveniences of our journey. On the following morning we rose early, and then found the place to possess many traits of picturesque attraction, being seated near a rapid river, and agreeably interspersed with woods. Thence we had a pleasant ride to Swansea; where we rejoined a party of our friends at breakfast, after a fortnight’s excursion.

During our stay in this town, protracted to several days by its agreeable society, Mrs. Hatton, mistress of the bathing-house, and sister of the English Melpomene, exhibited her theatric powers on the humble boards of Swansea theatre. But, labouring under the misfortune of lameness, and the encumbrance of more human flesh than I ever before saw crowded in one female figure,she was obliged to go through her task, the recitation of Alexander’s Feast,sitting: notwithstanding whichweightydrawback, the lady did not fail to exhibit a vivid tincture of the family genius. Here too we were gratified with the news of an event, before whose solid advantages the victories of a century sink, in a rational estimate, like glittering tinsel before massive ingots. I was awakened at an early hour by the loud huzzas of the towns-people, and the frequent discharge of cannon from vessels in the harbour. The ships displayed their gayest colours; and the people, in dancing through the streets, congratulated each other on the long wished-for blessing ofPeace! The chagrin of two or three provision-monopolizers, and a few others whose interest was in opposition to the public weal, with the old subterfuge that it was not the proper time for peace, covering a real sentiment of endless war, passed unnoticed, nor formed a perceptible speck on the brilliancy of the people’s joy!

NEATH ABBEY, TOWN, AND CASTLE—THE KNOLL—BRITON FERRY—FUNEREAL RITES—ABERAVON—MARGAM—ABBEY RUIN—PILE.

Our tour now took an eastward direction. Crossing Swansea river by an exceeding good ferry, and passing a region of furnaces, we traversed a considerable hill to the neighbouring valley ofNeath; a spot that might be deemed pleasing, were it not overhung with the smoke of numerous manufactories, and its soil blackened with coal-works and rail-ways.[145]Neath abbey is a short distancewest of the town, and its remains are extensive. Besides the abbey church, the walls of the offices and other apartments are yet standing; but, undecorated with verdure, and partaking of the sable hue that impinges on every object around, it fails to create an idea of beauty or grandeur. As we were exploring the dark recesses of the ruin, a number of haggard forms on a sudden darted from various apertures, and eagerly pressed toward us. Their wan countenances, half hidden by black matted hair, bore the strongest expression of misery; which was further heightened by a scanty ragged apparel, that scarcely covered their meagre limbs: upon their whole appearance one might have asked with Banquo,—

“What are these,So wither’d, and so wild in their attire,That look not like th’ inhabitants o’the earth,And yet are on’t?—You should be women;And yet your beards forbid me to interpretThat you are so.”—

The poor creatures were the wives of miners, and women that worked in the manufactories, who burrowed and brought up their families in the cells of the ruin. Unceasing drudgery, however, was unable to obtain them the necessaries of life; much less a taste of those comforts, to which the exertion of useful labour might seem to have a just claim. An old woman, bent nearly double with years,

“Of ashy semblance, meagre, pale, and bloodless,”

gave us her account of the ruin. She shewed us the nuns’ dining-room, the roof of which is still entire, supported by Saxon, or rather early Norman pillars and arches. From the refectory we passed to what was once the dormitory, and were shewn a nauseous dungeon, in which, as the legend of the ruin relates, offending nuns were wont to be confined. This abbey was built by Richard de Granville and Constance his wife, in the reign of Henry the First, for Cistertian monks, and dedicated to the Holy Trinity: at the dissolution of monasteries its revenues were valued at 150l.per annum. The abbey-house, about a century and a half since, formed an admired seat of the Hobby’s family.

Neath, the Nidum of Antoninus, was formerly of greater extent and importance than at present; for, notwithstanding its flourishing manufactories, it now makes but a poor dirty appearance. The Castle, now an inconsiderable ruin, was built by Richard de Granville, one of Fitzhammon’s knights, upon the site of a British fortress of very antient foundation; and was taken and in part burnt by Prince Llewelyn A.D. 1231. The Neath river limits that tract of country called Gower; it also formed the western boundary of the Lordship of Glamorgan, which anciently extended eastward to the river Usk. The latter district fell under the dominion of the Normans in the following manner.

In the year 1090, Jestyn, lord of Glamorgan, having a difference with Rees, King of Wales, had recourse to arms, and solicited the assistance of Fitzhammon, an Anglo-Norman chieftain, to support his cause. The confederates were successful; but, as it generally happens when foreign aid is required in domestic disputes, the remedy proved worse than the disease; for, on the plea that the conditions of their compact had not been fulfilled, Fitzhammon collected his forces,attacked Jestyn, and deprived him of his life and territory. Fitzhammon shared the spoil with twelve knights who accompanied him, rewarding each with a manor. Now, as a dominion thus acquired must be supported by the iron arm of coercion, we find the first attention of the conquerors directed to rearing fortresses on their domains; and shortly afterwards an appendant creation of religious houses makes its appearance, as a salvo for the slaughter and injustice that purchased their greatness. To this foundation most of the picturesque ruins that we are about to examine in Glamorganshire, and part of Monmouthshire, may be traced: it will, therefore, be necessary not to lose sight of this point of history.

We did not fail to admire theKnoll, a castellated seat of Sir Herbert Mackworth’s, occupying the summit of a hill at the termination of a noble lawn. The fine views which its elevation commands, encompassed by hanging woods, and extensive plantations, its shady walks and picturesque cascades, render it a place deservedly attractive. Beneath the tufted hills of this estate, we passedfrom Neath in our way to Briton ferry; and soon remarked a single stone monument[150], a massive paralellopiped, on a height to our left: another immediately afterwards appeared in a field close to the road on the right.

From these monuments of other times, however, the rich hanging woods and open groves ofBriton ferryattracted our interest, clothing that charming domain of Lord Vernon’s.

The extensive plantations spread over several bold hills westward of the Neath river, whose broad translucid stream here emerges in a fine sweep between high woody banks, partly broken into naked cliffs, and soon unites with the sea. From a delightful shady walk impendent over the stream, we branched off into an “alley green” that led us up a steep hill covered with large trees and tangled underwood: the ascent was judiciously traced where several bare craigs projecting from the soil formed an apposite contrast to the luxuriant verdure that prevailed around. Ongaining the summit the charms of Briton ferry disclosed themselves in

“An ample theatre of Sylvan grace”

of more than common beauty; beyond which the Bristol channel, bounded by the aerial tint of its opposite coast, formed the distance. But from a roaming prospect the eye gladly returned to repose on the local beauties of the scene; the tufted knoll, the dark glade, and the majestic river. In returning, we passed the mansion, a very ordinary building; but paused on the neat simplicity of the village-church adjoining, and its well-ordered cemetery.

The custom of planting ever-greens over the graves of departed friends, and bedecking them with flowers at certain seasons of the year, is, here attended to with peculiar care; and to this pleasing tribute of affection, characteristic of Wales, David ap-Gwillim, a Welch bard who flourished about the middle of the fourteenth century, thus sweetly alludes in one of his odes:

“O whilst thy season of flowers, and thy tender sprays thick of leaves remain; I will pluck the roses from the brakes; theflowerets of the meads, and gems of the woods; the vivid trefoils, beauties of the ground, and the gaily smiling bloom of the verdant herbs, to be offered to the memory of a chief of fairest fame: Humbly will I lay them on the grave of Ivor!”

Shakspeare also, with exquisite tenderness:

“With fairest flowers while summer lastsI’ll sweeten thy sad grave: thou shalt not lackThe flower that’s like thy face, pale Primrose; norThe azur’d Harebell, like thy veins; no, norThe leaf of Eglantine, whom not to slanderOutsweeten’d not thy breath.”

Highly pleased with Briton ferry, we proceeded along the coast, and passed through the little town ofAberavon. Its copper and tin works added no charms to the verdant fertility of this part of the country, which appeared ornamented with several gentlemen’s seats, and well planted hills; but, grandly rising above comparison, “the mighty hill ofMargam,” a steep mountain entirely shaded with oaks from the base to its “cloud-cap’t” summit, arrested our chief attention.

Margam Abbey

Margam park, belonging to Mr. Talbot, is chiefly to be noticed for its orangery;a magnificent pavilion of the Doric order, 327 feet in length, wherein the orange-trees are arranged in unfavourable weather: but on our visit, these trees, to the amount of a hundred and fifty, from six to ten feet high, and all in full bearing, were agreeably disposed in a sequestered part of the garden.[153]Margam abbey was until within these few years the mansion of the estate; but it is now pulled down: some low ruins, however, remain, and the walls of its elegant but neglected chapter-house. This structure is thus described by Mr. Wyndham, who visited the spot about thirty years since: “It is an elegant Gothic building, of a date subsequent to that of the church. Its vaulted roof is perfect, and supported by a clustered column rising from the centre of the room. The plan of this chapter-house is an exact circle, fifty feet in diameter. The just proportion of the windows, and the delicate ribs of the arches, which all rise from the centre column and the walls, gradually diverging to their respective points above, must please the eye of every spectator;and, what is uncommon in light Gothic edifices, the external elevation is as simple and uniform as its internal, there being no projecting buttresses to disturb or obstruct its beauty.”—“The preservation of this building led me to conclude, that much attention had been given to the lead that originally covered it; but, to my astonishment, I heard that the lead had long since been removed, and that the only security of the roof against the weather was a thickoiled paper, which by no means prevented the rain from penetrating and filtering through the work.” Mr. Wyndham concludes by trusting, that, as the present proprietor is a lover of antiquities, the deficiency would be corrected. But, unfortunately, the edifice was left to its fate, and the roof soon fell in: thus one of the finest specimens of Gothic architecture in this or any other country is lost to the eye of taste and science.

Just perceptible from the turf we traced the foundation of the Abbey Church, and the bases of four clustering pillars that most probably supported the tower; the steps of the altar were also visible, besprinkled with grass;and, turning over some fragments, we picked up part of the chalice for containing holy water, and several of those coloured glazed tiles which were used in the early Norman age for paving principal buildings, but commonly called Roman tiles. We were informed by Mr. Snook, the intelligent gardener of the place, who was present at the dilapidation of the abbey, that the pavement formed with these tiles was the lowermost of three which were then removed; and that on digging deeper they came to an immense heap of human bones. This pavement is still in many places remaining, though nearly concealed by a covering of moss. Many curious sculptured stones of high antiquity are to be met with in the park, and in the village adjoining; the church of which presents, in its elevation, a more pleasing symmetry and composition than any Gorman work that I remember to have seen.[155]A shady walk, carried beneath the leafy mantle of Margam’s hill, passes a ruined chapel, and a loggan or rocking-stone, in its way to thesummit, where a prospect of uncommon extent greets the beholder. Eglis Nunne, about two miles south of Margam, now a farmhouse, was formerly a nunnery subject to that abbey.

Renewing our journey, we left Kenfig on our right, where some vestiges of a castle built by one of Fitzhammon’s knights are said to appear, and proceeded toPyle. The inn here, built by Mr. Talbot, and which might be mistaken for a nobleman’s seat, affords excellent accommodation for travellers, who are frequently induced to make it their head-quarters while visiting the several objects in the neighbourhood.—Leaving Pyle, we soon found ourselves on Newton Down, and from its height discovered the range of hills forming the opposite boundary of the vale of Cowbridge, in which a bold hill crowned with Penline Castle was eminently conspicuous. On looking back, we were pleased with a comprehensive view of the country that we had lately traversed: beyond the wide bay of Swansea, the whitened habitations of Ostermouth caught our eye; the sulphureous clouds revolving from the works of Swansea and Neath were only dividedby the projection of Kilway hill; and the picturesque knolls of Briton ferry appeared sunk into comparative littleness beneath the towering dimensions of Margam’s shady mountain.—Our tour now became thickly interspersed with baronial castles and other monuments of feudal times, interesting either by their historical events or picturesque decay.

OGMORE CASTLE—EWENNY PRIORY—DUNRAVEN-HOUSE—ST. DONATT’S CASTLE—LLANBITHIAN CASTLE—COWBRIDGE—PENLINE CASTLE—COITY CASTLE—LLANTRISSENT—BENIGHTED RAMBLE TO PONT-Y-PRIDD—WATERFALLS.

Ogmore castleis situated on the eastern bank of the river Ogmore, near the road to Cowbridge; its remains, however, are very inconsiderable, consisting merely of the keep and some outer walls. Caradoc, in his History of Wales, says, that the manor and castle of Ogmore were bestowed by Fitzhammon on William de Londres, one of his knights; from which its foundation may be dated prior to the Norman conquest. The manor courts are still held in a thatched hovel near it, which appears like an overgrownpig-stye. Here, according to the custom of the times, a religious institution followed the acquisition of power. William de Londres, or his descendant John, builtEwenny Priory, at the distance of a mile from the castle, and also near the road to Cowbridge: but in this the proprietor seems not to have lost sight of his worldly interest; for the strong embattled walls and towers that appear among the ruins of this building would lead one to consider it as intended not less for the purposes of war than of priestcraft; and its situation on the bank of the Wenny was admirably adapted for the defence of that part of his domain. In the hall of the house, a gloomy building, are several racks, which appear to have been used for the lodging of arms. The church is a venerable massive structure, wherein unornamented heavy arches repose on short bulky columns of the rudest workmanship: it contains a monument of Paganus de Turbeville, supposed to be the grandson of Fitzhammon’s knight of that name. The thick columns, plain capital, and circular arches of this edifice, denote it to be of the earliest Norman architecture; and might lead one to suppose it tobe of Saxon origin, did not historical facts invalidate the conjecture. Leland says that it was founded for Benedictine monks; but neither he, Dugdale, nor Tanner, gives us the date of its foundation. A.D. 1141 it was made a cell of St. Peter’s of Gloucester.

Not far from Ewenny, on the sea-coast, isDunraven-house, or castle, as it is called by Caradoc; a misshapen dismal building, only to be admired for its situation on a lofty sea promontory, commanding extensive prospects. William de Londres, Lord of Ogmore (says Caradoc) won the lordships of Kydwelhy and Carnewihion in Carmarthenshire from the Welchmen; and gave to Sir Arnold Butler, his servant, the castle and manor of Dunraven. It continued a long time in the possession of his descendants; but at length fell to the Vaughans, the last of whom, as tradition relates, was such an unprincipled wretch, that he set up lights, and used other devices to mislead seamen, in order that they might be wrecked on his manor. But his crimes did not escape punishment; for it is said that three of his sons were drowned in one day by the following accidents. Within sight of the house is alarge rock called the Swancar, dry only at low water; to which two of his sons went in a boat to divert themselves: but not taking care to fasten their vessel, on the rising of the tide it was washed away, and they left to the horrors of their fate; which was inevitable, as the family had no other boat, nor was there any other in the neighbourhood. Their distress was seen from the house; and in the confusion their infant brother, being left alone, fell into a vessel of whey, and was drowned almost at the same instant with the other two. This was universally looked upon as a judgement for the iniquities abovementioned; and Mr. Vaughan was so struck with the transaction, that he immediately sold the house to Mr. Wyndham, ancestor of the present proprietor.—Two extraordinary caverns, about a mile westward of the house, we neglected to visit: the one called the Cave is described to be a passage worn through a projecting stack of rocks, running parallel with the sea-shore, and forming a kind of rude piazza, with an entrance to the south, of very grand effect. The other, called the Windhole, is a deep cavern, a little to the east of the Cave: its depth from the entrancemeasures seventy-seven yards. There are two or three small fissures through the roof of the cavern to the land above, a considerable distance from the edge of the cliff; over which if a hat be laid, it will be blown back into the air with considerable violence; but this only happens when the wind blows fresh from the South-east.

St. Donatt’s Castle, a few miles further on the coast, and about five south-west of Cowbridge, is an extensive structure, of much antique beauty, and is still partially inhabited. Its garden, descending in terraces from the south wall, was formerly much admired, but now

“Sunk are the bowers in shapeless rain all,And the long grass o’ertops the mould’ring wall.

Although loftily situated, the castle is so surrounded with high groves, as only to be seen with advantage from some heights in the adjoining park: on one of them is a watch-tower, which affords a prospect truly grand and extensive. This castle is of very remote foundation, although the greater part of the building indicates the work of latter ages. We learn from Powell’s translation of Caradoc,that the castle and manor of St. Denewit, or St. Donatt, was apportioned to Sir William le Esterlong, alias Stradling, on the conquest of Glamorgan. The Stradlings, outliving the descendants of all the other twelve Knights, held it for 684 years; but they becoming extinct, the estate fell to Busy Mansell, Esq.[163]

Between St. Donatt’s and Cowbridge is Lantwit, a poor village, but once a large borough town. On the north side of its church are some old British relics, consisting of high carved stones; but whether sepulchral or otherwise is not determined.Llanbithian, orSt. Quintin’s Castle, is situated about half a mile south of Cowbridge. The leading feature of this ruin is a massive gateway, now converted into a barn; which, as well as the other parts, denotes considerable original strength, and is said to have been built prior to the arrival of Fitzhammon. The castle and manor fell to the share of Sir Robert St. Quintin on the division of Glamorgan; but it passed from his descendants in the reign ofHenry the Third, and is now the property of Lord Windsor.Cowbridgeis a neat little town seated on the banks of a small river.[164]

Penline Castle, loftily seated on a bold hill, and commanding a prospect of uncommon diversity and extent, is about a mile distant from Cowbridge. From the lines of Edward Williams, a native poet, it may appear that it serves as a barometer for the neighbourhood:

“When the hoarse waves of Severn are screaming aloud,And Penline’s lofty castle’s involv’d in a cloud;If true the old proverb, a shower of rainIs brooding above and will soon drench the plain.”

This structure is of very ancient date: in some parts of the building the stones are laid in theherring-bonefashion; a mode observed in the oldest parts of Guildford, Corfe, and others of the most ancient castles. The mansion near to the ruin was built by Mr. Sergeant Sey, and is now possessed by Miss Gwinit, by a bequest of the late Lady Vernon’s.

A retrograde movement, hastily performed in a shower of rain, brought us to Bridgend, a straggling little town, built on the opposing banks of the river Ogmore. From this place a road passes to the village ofCoityand its dismantled castle. This ruin stands on a plain ground, and is prettily interspersed with various trees and underwood: its foundation is generally attributed to Paganus de Turbeville, one of Fitzhammon’s knights.—The continuance of our ride to Llantrissent boasted little interest; until, making a curve near the seven-mile stone, when the wide undulating vale of Cowbridge exhibited a most extensive tract of beautiful fertility: among the high hills circumscribing the vale, that sustaining Penline castle rose with superior importance. The whole laid out in rich pastures and meadows, continually intersected with tufted inclosures, and enlivened with embowered hamlets and detached whitened buildings, formed acoup d’œilof considerable interest.

The old town ofLlantrissentappeared within a small distance of us, long before we arrived at it: for, perched upon the summit of a high hill of remarkable steepness, itwas only by a circuitous road, then of sufficiently fatiguing ascent, that it could be approached. This place, comprised nearly in one narrow irregular street, and made up of poor Gothic habitations, has so little of modern appearance engrafted on it, that it may be interesting as a specimen of ancient times, but scarcely in any other respect. The castle is nearly all destroyed; the fragment of a lofty round tower, and the vestiges of its outworks, nearly concealed by tangled shrubs, being all the remains of it. The church is a large Norman edifice, and from the cemetery a wonderful prospect is obtained of the surrounding country: although a hazy state of the atmosphere denied us the whole of its extent, enough remained to assure us that it must be considerable.

Pont-y-pridd, or New Bridge, was our next destination. My companion went forward to secure accommodation at the Bridgewater Arms, a comfortable inn about half a mile beyond it, while I was engaged in sketching some subjects about Llantrissent; at which task I incautiously protracted my stay

—“until the approach of night,The skies warm blushing with departing lightWhen falling dews with spangles deck’d the glade,And the low sun had lengthen’d ev’ry shade.”

As I proceeded from Llantrissent, cultivation diminished; and from that fertile and populous district, bordering the Severn, I found myself entering upon the unfrequented wilds of the interior country. It soon became so dark, that I could but just distinguish the broken road that I was travelling; which, although a Welch turnpike, a modern farmer in England would be ashamed to own for his cartway. Not a human face or habitation presented itself, nor any relief from silence, except the uncheering note of the screech owl. At length, however, the distant murmur of a waterfall saluted me; which, growing louder as I advanced, presently accumulated to a hoarse roar; and, by the direction of the sound, it appeared that I was travelling on a precipice above the torrent. A plentiful shower falling at this instant did not add to the comforts of my situation; and I found by the motion of the horse, that I was on a steep descent; while his frequent slides and stumbles proved thathe was on very rugged ground, and probably out of any track. In this dilemma imagination, ever active in magnifying concealed danger, pictured my situation as tottering on the brink of some such chasm as that of the Devil’s bridge. Here I might have exclaimed with Ossian’s Colma: “It is night; I am alone, forlorn on the hill of storms. The wind is heard on the Mountains; the torrent shrieks down the rock. No hut receives me from the rain; forlorn on the hill of winds.” But to remain under such apprehensions were worse than to encounter danger, and I slowly moved on in almost total darkness; until, making a sudden turn, I beheld the tops of the neighbouring hills illumined in a strange manner. In a few moments a gleam of light, transmitted by reflection through an opening in some trees, shone on my track, and discovered a dark huge figure standing at my horse’s head. I was scarcely collected from my surprize when my bridle was forcibly arrested, and a loud but unintelligible voice seemed to demand that I should stop. Already was I conceiving how to repel the attack, when the man, observing that I did not understand Welch, civilly accosted mein imperfect English, and assured me that I was on the edge of a precipice. Nor did he leave me with this service, but kindly led my horse to the little village ofPont-y-pridd, then within a short distance. Here, while regaling over a mug of ale, my conductor accounted for the light that surprized me: it proceeded from an immense bonfire of a party of colliers in some distant mountains, rejoicing at the blessing of peace. At this place I determined to fix my quarters; nor could the offer of a guide and lanthorn, to conduct me to the superior accommodation of the Bridgewater arms, induce me to tempt again the dangers of the night, or quit the coarse barley bread, salt butter, and miserable beer of the village alehouse.

Early in the morning my companion rejoined me, when we visited Pont-y-pridd, the celebrated bridge of Glamorganshire. This extraordinary piece of masonry consists of a single arch, whose chord is 147 feet, thrown across the Taffe. William Edward, an ingenious mason of this country, who built it, failed in two preceding attempts, which would have proved his ruin; but the gentry in the neighbourhood laudably supportedported his ingenuity, although at first unsuccessfully exerted, and enabled him to complete the present structure. The great beauty of this arch arises from the simplicity of its construction, and indeed from its very defect as a roadway; for the passage over the bridge is not sloped away into the adjoining roads, as it might be; but precipitately descends on each side, following the line of the arch. This circumstance, and its being defended with only a very low parapet, gives the bridge a remarkably light appearance. Situated in a romantic hollow, and abruptly jetting from the bold woody banks of the river, it looks a magic bow thrown across by the hands of fairies.

Two waterfalls in this neighbourhood deserve notice. One occurs about half a mile above the bridge. We proceeded to it through a delightful sylvan path on the bank of the river, and under the beetling brow of Craig-er-esk. The river is seen for a considerable distance struggling through a region of rocks, which in some places rise in large masses above its surface, and in others appear through the transparency of the stream shelving to a considerable depth; wearingthroughout the odd appearance of a vast assemblage of cubes, variously heaped, but with one face constantly horizontal: at length the river breaks over a compact strata; yet only in a fall of eight or ten feet, which is divided into several streams. The white foam of the river, and the light grey tint of the rocks, afford a strong contrast to the mixed verdure and dark shadows of its banks; but upon the whole the subject is rather to be noticed for its singularity than for any leading points of picturesque beauty. More agreeably composed appeared to us the other cascade of the tributary river Rhayder, about two miles distant from the bridge. The dark rocks that occasion the fall; the surrounding craigs; the light and pendant foliage that adorns them, and the vigorous trees that emerge from the banks, are all disposed with the utmost symmetry, and form a highly-pleasing picture, though of inconsiderable dimensions.

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