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teresting. We have entered the wildest part of the Principality, where the native simple manners of the people yet maintain their ground. We must not, however, expect to find this originality of character long amongst

even the inhabitants of the Merionethshire mountains; the turnpike-roads, those means of communication, and, I may add, of corruption also, are excellent throughout North-Wales, and render a visit to its wildest and most beautiful parts easy even to the post-chaise traveller. The gentlemen of the northern counties, desirous of facilitating an access to their country, have directed their attention to the formation of public highways, and overcome the obstacles which nature opposed to them, carrying their roads through rock and over mountain with an unbaffled perseverance and unyielding spirit that do them infinite credit. But though these accommodations of ease may be desirable to the lazy traveller, they will subtract much from the pleasure of the speculative one. Το him, the lofty mountain, the deep valley, the thundering cataract, and the beetling precipice, are but secondary objects; for he is not so much in pursuit of natural curiosities, as of moral singularities, original manners, ancient customs, local traditions, and national prejudices, which gradually fade away and disappear, when an intercourse with other countries becomes easy or common. Much of these, however, are still to be found in the parts of

Merionethshire, which we have travelled within these two days, particularly during our jour ney of to-day. The scenery and manners are perfectly Highlandish, and the national language so universal, that scarcely a cottager whom we meet was able to give us a single word of English.

Our road from Machynlleth to Mallwyd, where we slept last night, followed the course of the Dovy, and presented us with many striking beauties of landscape. The valley consists chiefly of rich pasture, inclosed by lofty mountains, some of which, particularly the Arran, vie in point of height with the most lofty in Wales; through this the river rolls, a silent majestic stream, in sweeping meanders, ornamented here and there with several neat cottages, the humble but happy abodes of content and peace. The scenery is greatly enlivened by a variety of trees, thickly grouped in frequent masses; amongst these, the mountainash, with his splendid scarlet berries, makes a gay and conspicuous appearance. Hitherto we had always considered the fruit of this tree useless, if not pernicious; but to our surprise we found, that in Merionethshire it was not only considered as a pleasant viand, but

manufactured also into an intoxicating liquor. As we approached Mallwyd, a party of boys attracted our attention, who seemed to be disputing the property, of some plunder which they had in their hats. We questioned them on the subject, but, as they did not speak English, received no answer. Looking, however, into the hats, we saw a quantity of the berries of the mountain-ash tree, which, to our great surprise, a minute after, the boys, having settled the dispute, began to devour most voraciously. On enquiring afterwards at Mallwyd, we found the peasantry considered these berries as a pleasant regale, and brewed from it a drink to which they were rather partial. We tasted the berries, but found them harsh and acrid; and sipped the liquor, which was still worse, sharp, bitter, and thick as puddle.

You cannot picture to yourself a more quiet, peaceful, picturesque situation than that of Mallwyd an inclosed vale, round which enormous mountains shoot into the clouds in the form of an amphitheatre, shading it from the heats of summer, and affording shelter from the blasts of winter. At a small distance from the village, an Alpine torrent rushes through the valley, tumbling amid large masses of dis

joined rock, beautifully circumstanced with trees and shrubs, pendent over the rapid stream. At this spot is a stone bridge of one handsome arch, and about one hundred yards above it a weir and salmon leap, nearly ten feet high. A few dwellings of the peasantry, with their white-washed fronts and little gardens, which rise out of the woods in the immediate neighbourhood of the river, and the distant view of the small village of Mallwyd, with the spire of its humbled church, enlivened the scene, by producing the ideas of social comfort and domestic happiness. It is in truth a delightful spot, and brought to our remembrance those pastoral pictures which live in the elegant descriptions of classical bards; the happy regions of Sicily, and the pleasing retreats of literature and virtue, of Horace and Cicero, in the sequestered valleys of Italy.

Having ordered dinner and secured beds at the village inn, the Crossed-Foxes, we passed the bridge I have described, in order to ascend the mountain Camlin, and contemplate the effect of the setting sun on the contiguous hills. It was a most laborious effort, but more than repaid by the glorious scene which opened on our reaching the summit. The Arran, a

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