On my way to one of my favourite stations-the Caen Coed Inn, at Tan y Bwlch,-I took the opportunity of visiting a waterfall, called the Rhaiadr Du, formed by the interesting little river Velin Rhyd, about two miles from Maentwrog. The water separates after the fall into two or three channels. Rocks, covered with moss, shrubs, and trees, form scenery at once rude and grand.

Regaining the high road, I soon reached the pleasant and salubrious village of Maentwrog; passing through which I shortly arrived at the Caen Coed Inn-now, however, more familiarly known by the appellation of the Oakley Arms Hotel.'

The following morning was delightfully fine and the air invigorating. After breakfast-accompanied by a pedestrian from the Emerald Isle, who, though a previous stranger to me, I found a most agreeable and intelligent companion,-I entered the grounds of the neighbouring mansion, eager to behold the truly romantic scenery around. around. Few things can surpass the pleasure of a morning ramble through the woods which clothe the heights above the hall, or the splendour of the prospect from the terrace over the vale, which is delightfully enriched with every feature of landscape and of water, and forms a rich panoramic picture.

In my walk through the grounds, I observed some magnificent specimens of the rhododendron, of nearly thirty years' growth, and more than forty yards in circumference; many other plants and trees appeared to grow equally luxuriantly, and both gardens and plantations were tastefully laid out, and well adapted to the soil and to the continual inequalities in the surface and the aspect. It was here I first remarked the singular appearance of two fine young trees, an elm and an ash, which, having sprung up side by side, intertwined their stems almost from the root in so strict an embrace as to present the sylvan phenomenon of a single

tree.

CHAPTER XVI.

DOLGELLEY, NANNAU PARK, CADER IDRIS, TAL Y LLYN, MACHYNNLETH, DINAS MOWDDY.

I LOVE to sit upon the rocky verge

Of some high crag, whose foot the angry surge
Hath bathed in snowy foam;-the feathery spray
Flings up bright sparkles in the sunny ray,

Like moving hoar-frost, glancing here and there-
A flying fairy-land in giddy air,

Mimicking winter's attributes so well,

We gaze, and wonder what could raise the spell,
And lend such wizard power to earthly things,
That now seem launched upon a thousand wings,
And plunge aloft, in wild essays to rise,
And join their fleecy kindred of the skies.

Sea-side Thoughts, by L. A. Twamley

BEING impatient to reach Dolgelley, I determined upon delaying my visit to Ffestiniog until my return, and left Tan y Bwlch late in the evening in an open chaise, and a little before midnight arrived at Trawsfynydd, about seven miles on the road. The situation of this village, environed by bleak and barren mountains, is peculiarly wild and lonely, and, wrapped in the silence of night, now appeared doubly striking. But, on entering the inn, whatever might be the aspect of external nature, I found the inhabitants to be a jolly, self-satisfied race, intent upon eating and drinking, and enjoying, in their way, whatever worldly advantages had fallen to their share. It was, in fact, the evening of a fair, and the village inn was crowded with peasantry of both sexes; and the men, as if resolved not to yield in social prowess, drank and smoked like so many burgomasters. On observing the entrance of a stranger they rose, drank his health, and soon began to sing, with much

cordiality and some taste, a number of Welsh airs, in honour-I was assured by the complacent host-of my arrival.

Though my stay at this place was extremely brief, it was long enough to allow my driver to chime in with the revellers-in fact to become rather tipsy; and, after having, with some difficulty, saved him from breaking his neck by falling headlong over the wheels, I was compelled to change places with him, and undertake myself the office of charioteer. Albeit unused to the whipping mood,' I was enabled, by my novel situation, to enjoy so much of the landscape as could be seen by moon and starlight.

All mountainous countries have by night a peculiarly interesting and romantic aspect; the dusky eminences seeming vaster as they rise in the distance against the sky, the valleys and hollows, contemplated from roads running midway along the face of steep acclivities, presenting the appearance of unfathomable depth, and every cwm, ravine, or rocky pass, near to or through which I rapidly moved, seemed infinitely more wild than when day exhibits every object in full relief.

Having passed, without stopping, through Llanilltyd, I arrived about two o'clock in the morning at Dolgelley. At such an hour there is, of course, not a creature stirring in a Welsh town, and this one being unilluminated was beyond expression silent and dismal. However, it was not long before I roused the jolly landlord of the Angel,' and, having obtained admittance into his castle, retired to rest.

6

Though the vicinity of no town, perhaps, in Wales possesses a greater variety of attractions than that of Dolgelley, my first visit next morning was to Nannau Park, the seat of Sir Robert Williams Vaughan. The house stands on an eminence, and the road thither from the town is one continued ascent. From various parts of it I paused to enjoy the delightful views obtained over the Vale of the Hazle, traversed in its whole extent by the river Wnion.

The grounds of Nannau are entered under a fine old gateway, and, in approaching the house, at least a mile distant from the

entrance to the park, I passed along the side of a little murmuring stream, and through a succession of romantic dingles, covered with black-berry bushes, ivy, and moss. The weather being hot, it was pleasant to pause from time to time under the shades of the gigantic old trees that flung their gnarled boughs over the road, the spaces between them being here and there filled up by an exuberant growth of underwood. Innumerable blackbirds, linnets, and other singing birds filled the air with music; and, except the buzzing of flies, rising in clouds from the copses, and the rippling of the brook at my feet, no other sounds met the ear. Nothing could be more rural or picturesque, more calm or tranquil, than the whole scene. In the foliage of the woods, there was all that variety of rich tint produced by the intermingling of the oak, the lime, the walnut, the laurel, the acacia, the ash, the fir, and the beech, grouped and contrasted with infinite beauty.

'Dew-drops like diamonds hung on every tree,
And sprinkled silvery lustre o'er the lea;

And all the verdurous herbage of the ground

Was decked with pearls which cast a splendour round;
The flowers, the buds, and every plant that grew

Sipp'd the fresh fragrance of the morning dew.

In every plant the liquid nectar flowed,

In every bud, and every flower that blowed;

Here roved the busy bees without control,

Robbed the sweet bloom, and sucked its balmy soul.'

The gardens of Nannau are extensive, and laid out with much taste. Owing, however, to the under gardener's entire ignorance of the English language, and his superintendent being absent that day, I probably lost much of the history of the grounds, which, related with all that confident, unconscious prolixity known only in the present day to this description of chroniclers, might have proved exceedingly amusing both to me and my readers. Still I made in his company the round of hothouses, greenhouses, &c., and greatly admired the number of beautiful exotics collected on

Here

this highest spot devoted to agriculture in the kingdom. and there in the gardens, the formation and laying out of which were attended with extraordinary expense, are neat tablets, one of which was set up as a warning by the proprietor, to commemorate the death of a servant, who, having swallowed four hundred and forty plum stones, naturally enough lost her life.

The mansion is spacious and elegant; but the chief attraction of the spot, which is probably not exceeded in point of scenery by any in the kingdom, lies in the beauty and the romantic traditions of the park. In the higher part are the remains of a British post, noticed by all tourists, called Moel Orthrwn, or the Hill of Oppression, having, probably, as Pennant conjectures, been formerly held by some tyrant; and here, also, until lately, stood an immense oak, blasted and hollowed by time, in which, according to popular belief, Owen Glendower concealed the body of his treacherous cousin, Howel Sele, who had been bribed to make an attempt upon his life, but who, failing in the attempt, is supposed to have met with the strange and horrible fate of being immured alive. Pennant and Evans, with an unskilful application of their classical reading, talk of Hamadryads, &c., in connection with the fatal tree, and inform us that it was denominated the Hollow Oak, the Haunt of Demons.' But the only demon known to the peasants of the neighbourhood would be the ghost of Howel Sele, or a White Lady, or the Little People, as they call the fairies.

In Pennant's time, the trunk of this patriarchal tree was twentyseven feet and a half in circumference; it was in the last stage of decay, and pierced by age into the form of a Gothic arch. Its end is thus described by Sir Richard Colt Hoare:-'During a visit to Sir Robert Vaughan, in the year 1813, this aged tree, mentioned by Mr. Pennant, attracted my notice; and, on the morning of the 13th July, I made a drawing of it, in one of the most sultry days I ever felt; the succeeding night was equally hot, and on the same night this venerable oak fell to the ground.'

In descending the hill leading towards Dolgelley, I enjoyed a