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diff --git a/old/53152-0.txt b/old/53152-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 5a53146..0000000 --- a/old/53152-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,6732 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg eBook, Motor Tours in Wales & the Border Counties, -by Mrs. Rodolph Stawell, Illustrated by R. De S. Stawell - - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most -other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of -the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have -to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. - - - - -Title: Motor Tours in Wales & the Border Counties - - -Author: Mrs. Rodolph Stawell - - - -Release Date: September 27, 2016 [eBook #53152] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - - -***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MOTOR TOURS IN WALES & THE BORDER -COUNTIES*** - - -E-text prepared by Suzanne Shell, Paul Clark, and the Online Distributed -Proofreading Team (http://www.pgdp.net) from page images generously made -available by Internet Archive/American Libraries -(https://archive.org/details/americana); book cover image digitized by the -Google Books Library Project (http://books.google.com) and generously made -available by HathiTrust Digital Library -(https://www.hathitrust.org/digital_library) - - - -Note: Project Gutenberg also has an HTML version of this - file which includes the original illustrations. - See 53152-h.htm or 53152-h.zip: - (http://www.gutenberg.org/files/53152/53152-h/53152-h.htm) - or - (http://www.gutenberg.org/files/53152/53152-h.zip) - - - Images of the original pages are available through - Internet Archive/American Libraries. See - https://archive.org/details/motortoursinwale00staw - - -Transcriber's note: - - Text enclosed by underscores is in italics (_italics_). - - - - - -[Illustration: Map.] - - -MOTOR TOURS IN WALES AND THE BORDER COUNTIES - - -[Illustration: VALLE CRUCIS ABBEY. - -_Frontispiece_] - - - - -MOTOR TOURS IN WALES & THE BORDER COUNTIES - -by - -MRS. RODOLPH STAWELL - -With Photographs by R. De S. Stawell - - - - - - - -Boston -L. C. Page & Company -1909 - - - - -CONTENTS - - - I PAGE - - SHROPSHIRE 1 - - II - - NORTH WALES 65 - - III - - THE HEART OF WALES 135 - - IV - - SOUTH WALES 163 - - V - - WYE VALLEY 223 - - - - -ILLUSTRATIONS - - - VALLE CRUCIS ABBEY _Frontispiece_ - - FACING PAGE - - LUDLOW CASTLE 4 - - THE FEATHERS HOTEL, LUDLOW 5 - - TUDOR DOORWAY, LUDLOW CASTLE 6 - - THE ROUND CHAPEL, LUDLOW CASTLE 7 - - ENTRANCE TO HALL IN WHICH “COMUS” WAS FIRST PERFORMED 10 - - STOKESAY CASTLE 11 - - OLD STREET IN SHREWSBURY 22 - - RICHARD BAXTER’S HOUSE, EATON CONSTANTINE 23 - - BUILDWAS ABBEY 28 - - MADELEY COURT 29 - - HAUGHMOND ABBEY 38 - - WENLOCK PRIORY, ST. JOHN’S CHAPEL 39 - - WENLOCK PRIORY, CHAPTER HOUSE 42 - - BISHOP PERCY’S BIRTHPLACE, BRIDGNORTH 43 - - WHITTINGTON CASTLE 64 - - THE LLEDR VALLEY, FROM THE HOLYHEAD ROAD 65 - - THE OLD CHAPEL, BETTWS-Y-COED 82 - - THE LLUGWY AT BETTWS-Y-COED 83 - - CONWAY CASTLE 90 - - THE PASS OF NANT FFRANCON 91 - - THE MENAI BRIDGE, FROM ANGLESEY 102 - - CARNARVON CASTLE 103 - - DOLBADARN CASTLE 106 - - SNOWDON, FROM CAPEL CURIG 107 - - NEAR BEDD GELERT 120 - - GATEWAY OF HARLECH CASTLE 121 - - THE MAWDDACH, FROM TYN-Y-GROES HOTEL 134 - - LLANIDLOES 135 - - ARCHWAY AT STRATA FLORIDA 148 - - NEAR GLANDOVEY 149 - - THE MAYOR’S HOUSE, MACHYNLLETH 156 - - THE RIVER DULAS 157 - - THE PASS OF CORRIS, NEAR TAL-Y-LLYN 158 - - BALA LAKE 159 - - CAERPHILLY CASTLE 172 - - BEAUPRÉ CASTLE 173 - - EWENNY PRIORY 180 - - NEATH ABBEY 181 - - BRECON 186 - - GATEWAY, KIDWELLY CASTLE 187 - - GOSCAR ROCK, TENBY 196 - - MANORBIER CASTLE, NEAR TENBY 197 - - ENTRANCE TOWER, PEMBROKE CASTLE 202 - - PEMBROKE COAST 203 - - CAREW CASTLE 208 - - ST. DAVID’S CATHEDRAL AND RUINS OF THE BISHOP’S PALACE 209 - - ST. MARY’S COLLEGE, ST. DAVID’S 212 - - ST. DAVID’S CATHEDRAL: INTERIOR 213 - - KILGERRAN CASTLE, NEAR CARDIGAN 222 - - THE WYE NEAR ITS SOURCE 223 - - CONFLUENCE OF THE WYE AND THE MARTEG NEAR RHAYADER 234 - - HEREFORD 235 - - THE PREACHING CROSS, HEREFORD 238 - - ROSS FROM WILTON 239 - - MONNOW BRIDGE, MONMOUTH 250 - - RAGLAN CASTLE, ENTRANCE TOWER 251 - - THE MOAT, RAGLAN CASTLE 254 - - LLANTHONY PRIORY 255 - - INTERIOR OF LLANTHONY PRIORY, SHOWING THE EAST END 258 - - TINTERN ABBEY 259 - - TINTERN ABBEY 266 - - CHEPSTOW CASTLE 267 - - - - -Much of the material of this book has appeared in the _Car Illustrated_, -and is here reproduced by the kind consent of Lord Montagu. - - - - -SHORT RUNS IN SHROPSHIRE - - -There was once a tramp who said--“Och, now, it’s true what I’m tellin’ -ye; I never got a bit o’ good out o’ me life till I took to the road!” - -He was quite serious about it. He was a nice tramp, with a fine sense -of romance and a large trust in the future, and on this first day of -the tour his words ring in my head above the rush of the wind and -the throbbing of the engine. For though all the days will be good, -this first day is surely the best. To be on the road again; to have -one’s luggage behind one and all the world in front; to watch the -villages slipping by and mark their changing character; to saunter -through strange towns and swing across great, desolate moorlands; to -pause at some attractive inn, or eat sandwiches and sunshine by the -wayside--this is the first day. History and the camera must wait; the -first day must be given up to the sheer joy of the road. - -So, as we shall not be able to hurry in Shropshire, seeing that there -history cannot be ignored, we shall do well to cross its border in the -evening, and spend the night in Ludlow. We will drop gently down the -hill by Ludford House, and cross the Teme when the light is growing -dim, and we can only tell by the deepening of the shadows in the trees -on the left that the castle stands among them. Then we will climb a -short, steep hill into the town through the only one of the old gates -that is still standing, turn to the right through the Bull Ring, and -draw up before the famous carved front of the “Feathers.” - -[Illustration: LUDLOW CASTLE.] - -[Illustration: THE FEATHERS HOTEL, LUDLOW.] - -Here in this little town, in its historic inn, in its church and its -great castle, we may find the concentrated essence, as it were, of the -glamour of Shropshire--that borderland where the local stories have -helped to make the history of England, and the quiet towns have seen -wild deeds of courage and horror, and the fields have been red with -blood; where every tiny village has its own tale of love or battle, -of fair lady or fugitive king. This very house, the “Feathers,” has a -world of romance in its timbered walls and panelled rooms, for it is -far older than the beautiful Jacobean chimney-piece before which we -shall presently dine. These moulded ceilings and elaborate carvings, -it is said, were once the property of a member of that Council of the -Welsh Marches that Edward IV. established to bring order into the -affairs of this stormy neighbourhood, where the “Lords Marchers” had -hitherto taken what they chose, and kept it if they could. It is said -that the English King once asked by what warrant the Lords Marchers -held their lands. “By this warrant,” said one of them grimly, drawing -his sword--and the inquiry went no further. - -The President of this Council lived in the great castle that still -stands so imposingly above the Teme, with its outer and inner baileys, -its Norman keep and curious round chapel, and all its long, long -memories. - -[Illustration: TUDOR DOORWAY, LUDLOW CASTLE.] - -[Illustration: THE ROUND CHAPEL, LUDLOW CASTLE.] - -Within these grey walls we may dream of many things, both pitiful and -gay: of all the children who have played and the poets who have written -here; of young Prince Arthur, who died here; of his bride, Katherine -of Arragon; of poor Princess Mary--“my ladie Prince’s grace,” as they -called her quaintly--the Queen of blood and tears. Edward IV. and his -brother Edmund, dressed in green gowns, played in these courts as boys, -and wrote a letter to their “right noble lord and father,” begging -him daily to give them his hearty blessing, and to send them some -fine bonnets by the next sure messenger; and here on the right is the -roofless tower whose crumbling walls are haunted by the most touching -memories in all Ludlow. For these weed-grown stones have echoed to the -voices of Edward IV.’s little sons, who lived and laughed here with no -thought of that grimmer Tower that is connected for ever with their -names. There is still existing a wonderful letter written by the -King to “his Castle of Lodelowe,” in which he gives the most minute -instructions as to the education and general deportment of the Prince -of Wales--not forgetting the baby’s bedtime. His Majesty, indeed, was -definite on all points. - -“We will that our said son have his breakfast immediately after his -mass; and between that and his meat to be occupied in such virtuous -learning as his age shall suffer to receive.” - -His age at this time was three years. Not only was the virtuous -learning to occupy him from breakfast till dinner, but during the -latter meal “such noble stories as behoveth to a prince to understand -and know” were to be read aloud to him; and “after his meat, in -eschewing of idleness,” he was to be “occupied about his learning” -again. It is a relief to read that after his supper he was to -have “all such honest disports as may be conveniently devised for -his recreation.” At eight o’clock his attendants were “to enforce -themselves to make him merry and joyous towards his bed”; and, indeed, -after so hard a day of virtuous learning and noble stories and honest -disports, the poor child must have been glad to get there! - -Later on, when Sir Henry Sidney was President of the Council, this -ground where we are standing was trodden by his son Philip, the pattern -of chivalry, who “fearde no foe, nor ever fought a friend”; and it was -through that doorway at the top of the inclined plane--then a flight of -marble steps--that little Lady Alice Egerton, not knowing that she was -on her way to immortality, passed on the evening that she took part in -the first performance of _Comus_, which Milton had written for her. - -It is curious that in this venerable town so many of our thoughts -should be claimed by the very young. Ludlow Castle, as one sits -here thinking of the past, seems to be peopled with the ghosts of -children. And even in the church whose great tower gives Ludlow so -distinguished an air, the church where the solemn Councillors of the -Marches have their pompous tombs, we find the grave of Philip Sidney’s -little sister. “Heare lyethe the bodye of Ambrozia Sydney, iiijth -doughter of the Right Honourable Syr Henrye Sydney ... and the Ladye -Mary his wyef.” It is sometimes said, too, that Prince Arthur, Henry -VII.’s young son, is buried here, but this is not the case. There is a -cenotaph that was, perhaps raised in his memory, but his body was taken -to Worcester Cathedral. - -These are the gentler memories of Ludlow. Of the fiercer kind there is -no lack, from the old fighting days of the de Lacy who built the keep, -and the de Dinan who built the round chapel, down through centuries of -siege and battle to the time of the Civil War, when the King’s flag -flew here longer than on any other castle of Shropshire. - -Ludlow might well be chosen as a centre for motor drives in -Herefordshire, Shropshire, and Worcestershire. But for the moment we -are concerned with Shropshire only, and the centre of that county, in -every sense, is Shrewsbury; and so, sad though it is to leave Ludlow -so soon, we must glide away down the steep pitch beyond the door of -the “Feathers,” past the railway station, past the racecourse, and -over the twenty-nine miles of excellent and level road that lie between -Ludlow and Shrewsbury. - -[Illustration: ENTRANCE TO HALL IN WHICH “COMUS” WAS FIRST PERFORMED.] - -The first village on this road, Bromfield, is very typical of the -villages of Shropshire at their best. The black-and-white cottages seem -to have been set in their places with an eye to pictorial effect; the -stream and bridge are exactly in the right spot; and to complete the -picture, a beautiful old gatehouse stands a little way back from the -road. It is built half of stone, half of timber and plaster, and was -once the gateway of a Benedictine Priory which is mentioned in Domesday -Book as being of some importance. It leads now to the church, and is -one of those unexpected touches of beauty and interest that may meet -one’s eye at any turn of a Shropshire road. - -[Illustration: STOKESAY CASTLE. - -_Photo by W. D. Haydon._] - -At Onibury we cross the line and the river Onny, and about a mile and -a half further on we should begin to look for Stokesay Castle on the -left. As it is a little way from the main road, and partly hidden by -trees, it is easy to miss it when travelling at a good pace; but -it is perhaps the most attractive ruin in Shropshire from an artist’s -point of view, and should on no account be neglected. It is really a -fortified house rather than a castle, and the mingling of the warlike -with the domestic gives it a peculiar charm. The northern end, with its -irregular roof and overhanging upper storey, the “Solar Room,” with its -magnificent carved chimney-piece, and even the timbered gateway, are -all merely suggestive of a dwelling-house; and it is only when we turn -to the curious polygonal tower that we remember how in the old days an -Englishman’s house was either very literally his castle or was likely -to become some other Englishman’s house at an early date. As far as I -know, however, the only time that Stokesay had to make any use of its -defences was when it was garrisoned for the King during the Civil War, -and on that occasion it seems to have yielded without much ado. - -It is by very pleasant ways that this road is leading us--between -wooded hills and over quiet streams. The valley narrows and is at -its prettiest near Marshbrook and Little Stretton; then the pointed -hill of Caradoc became conspicuous, and beyond it the famous Wrekin -appears--famous not for its beauty, but because, being in the centre of -the county, it can be seen by nearly every one in Shropshire, and so -has gathered round it the sentiment of all Salopian hearts. “To friends -all round the Wrekin!” is the famous Shropshire toast, and there, -far away to the right, is the isolated rounded hill that means so -much to those born within sight of it. At Stretton we leave the hills -and wooded valleys behind us, and pass through a few miles of rather -dull country. It is at the village of Bayston Hill that we first see, -dimly blue against a background of hills, the slender spires--almost -unrivalled in beauty--of that fair town which long ago the Welsh named -_Y Mwythig_, the Delight. - -The history of Shrewsbury is stirring, and very, very long. When -England was still in the making she stood there on her hill, looking -down at the encircling river that has defended her for so many -centuries. Nearly every street is connected in some way with history; -every second house is haunted by some great name. Many large and solemn -books have been written about Shrewsbury, and not one of them is -dull. Even in these few hundred yards between the river and our hotel -how many memories there are! As we turn on to the English Bridge to -cross the Severn we should glance backwards to the right at the red -tower and great west window of the Abbey founded by the Conqueror’s -kinsman, Roger de Montgomery, a man of mark; and then, having crossed -the steep rise and fall of the bridge, we climb into the heart of the -town by the hill called the Wyle Cop. It was up this steep hill that, -not so very long ago, the London coach used to dash, turning into the -yard of the Lion Hotel at a pace that is still spoken of with awe -and admiration. If we were to do the like we should probably have to -pay five pounds and costs, so we will ascend the Cop in a way more -conducive to dreaming of the past: of Harry Tudor on his way to “trye -hys right” at Bosworth, with the welcoming citizens strewing flowers -before him; of the more stately procession that wound up the hill when -he came back as Henry VII. with his Queen and young Prince Arthur; of -Robert Dudley, Earl of Leicester, and his stepson Essex, after their -reception by bailiffs and aldermen, “and other to the number of xxiiij -scarlet gowns, with the scollars of the freescoole,” listening wearily -“at the upper end of the Wylde Coppe,” to three orations! Henry Tudor, -when he reached the Wyle Cop, was glad to take shelter for the night -in that picturesque little black-and-white house with the overhanging -top storey and the tiled roof--it is on the left, rather more than -half-way up the hill--for he had not won his way into the town without -difficulty. “The gates weare shutt against him and the portculleys lett -downe,” and a bailiff of the town--“a stout, wise gentleman,” we are -told--vowed that Henry should only enter over his prostrate body. So, -when Henry had made it clear that he did not mean to hurt the town, -“nor none therein,” the only way for the stout, wise gentleman to keep -his word was by lying down on the ground and allowing his future king -to step over him. Thus did Henry of Richmond come in triumph to the -little house on the Wyle. - -If we are going to the “Raven,” or the “Crown,” as is probable, we -turn to the right near the top of the hill, and pass the beautiful old -timbered house--which stands on the right hand, a little back from the -street--where Princess Mary stayed on her way to Ludlow after she had -been created _Prince_ of Wales; and a little further up, on the left, -is the many-gabled house where Prince Rupert lived for a time when he -was here with Charles I. On each side of us rises one of the slender -spires that are the pride of Shrewsbury. St. Alkmund’s Church, on the -left, was founded by Alfred’s daughter Ethelfleda, known as the Lady -of the Mercians; a lady, it would seem, of some force. “A woman of -an enlarged soul,” William of Malmesbury calls her; and adds: “This -spirited heroine assisted her brother greatly with her advice, and was -of equal service in building cities.” It is gravely recorded in a -serious chronicle that in 1533 “the dyvyll apearyd in Saint Alkmond’s -Churche there when the preest was at highe masse with greate tempest -and darknes, so that as he passyd through the churche he mountyd up the -steeple in the sayde churche, teringe the wyer of the sayde clocke, and -put the prynt of hys clawes uppon the iiijth bell.” This steeple on our -left was the very scene of this feat; but the body of the church was -rebuilt in the eighteenth century. Another old Shrewsbury church, St. -Chad’s, had fallen down, and the congregation of Saint Alkmund’s feared -a repetition of the disaster. In the case of St. Alkmund’s, however, it -was the rebuilding that was the disaster. - -The story of St. Mary’s lovely spire, on our right, is full of -incident. In 1572 it was “blown aside by wind”; in 1594 “there fell -such a monstrous dry wind, and so extreme fierce ... that the like was -never seen of those that be living ... the force whereof removed the -upper part of St. Mary’s steeple out of his place towards the south -about five inches”; in 1662 the steeple was “taken down six yards -from the top”; in 1690 it was damaged by an earthquake; in 1754 it was -“shattered by a high wind”; in 1756 the newly-built part was again -“blown aside”; in 1818 the upper part “became loose”; and during a -terrific storm in 1894 fifty feet of its masonry fell through the roof -of the nave shortly after the evening service. Most wonderfully this -last disaster did no damage to the stained glass, which is St. Mary’s -great glory and has itself had an eventful existence; for some of it -was in old St. Chad’s when it fell, and much of it, long ago, filled -the windows of religious houses in Germany. - -The slender columns and pointed arches of this lovely church have rung -to the voice of Charles I., who once proclaimed his good intentions -within these walls, and knelt, harassed and nearly uncrowned, before -this altar. It was in St. Mary’s, too, that James II. touched for the -King’s Evil. - -Just beyond the church is the Crown Hotel, and whether we stay there or -at the “Raven,” a hundred yards away, we shall hear the bells of St. -Mary’s, once described as “the comfortablest ring of bells in all the -town,” and the chiming clock that was the bequest of Fanny Burney’s -Uncle James, and the curfew, which still rings every night at nine. And -after the curfew we shall hear the number of the day of the month rung -out--a relic of the times before cheap almanacs existed. - -There is no doubt that the most satisfactory way of seeing Shropshire -is to spend a few nights in Shrewsbury, and make it the basis of -operations; for Shrewsbury lies exactly in the centre of the county, -and is the meeting-point of a particularly large number of good roads. -The old town itself, too, does not deserve to be hurried through. The -longer one stays in it the more one feels the charm of its gentle old -age. - -The Old School Buildings are within a stone’s-throw of us, with all -their memories of the wise and great: memories that are, as a matter -of fact, older than themselves; for though Charles Darwin was educated -within these very walls, it was in an older building of wood, standing -on the same spot, that Philip Sidney was a schoolboy--gentle and -grave, and as much loved then as he was destined to be all his life, -and is still. It was while he was here that his father wrote him a -“very godly letter ... most necessarie for all yoong gentlemen to -be carried in memorie,” which his mother, who added a postscript -“in the skirts of my Lord President’s letter,” considered to be so -full of “excellent counsailes,” that she begged Philip to “fayle not -continually once in foure or five daies to reade them over.” The -counsels were certainly excellent. “Be humble and obedient to your -master,” says Sir Henry, “... be courteous of gesture.... Give yourself -to be merie ... but let your mirth be ever void of all scurrillitie and -biting words to any man.... Above all things, tell no untruth, no not -in trifles”; and he ends quaintly: “Well, my little Philip, this is -enough for me, and I feare too much for you.” If my Lord President had -not also been my Lord Deputy of Ireland one might have loved him nearly -as much as his son. - -Neither he nor Philip ever saw the timbered gatehouse that stands -opposite to the Old School Buildings, but in the red Council House to -which it leads, Sir Henry always stayed when he made official visits -to Shrewsbury. There were fine doings on these occasions; banquets -and processions, with “knightly robes most valiant,” and many scarlet -gowns; masquerades, too, by the boys of the school, who appeared now -as soldiers, now as nymphs, and made orations in both characters. -Later on the same red house sheltered Charles I., when he came here -to collect men and money. Half the plate in the county disappeared -into his mint, which was set up, some say, in a little tottering house -that may still be seen in an alley on Pride Hill--a fragment of green -and weather-worn stone that is one of the most picturesque things in -Shrewsbury. Some of the money that Charles “borrowed” on this occasion -was well spent in repairing the Castle, which is quite near the Council -House. The Castle is now a private dwelling, and one cannot walk about -the grounds without permission; but the oldest part of it is the great -entrance-gate, which all may see; the gate that was built by Roger -de Montgomery and attacked by Stephen; the gate through which Henry -IV. rode out to the famous Battle of Shrewsbury. The Castle itself, -as it now stands, was probably mostly built by Edward I.; but it -suffered so much through the centuries from siege, and treachery, and -time, that many repairs were necessary to secure it a peaceful old -age as a dwelling-house. Every motorist who is properly grateful to -his benefactors, will be interested to know that it was the engineer -Telford who carried out these repairs. He actually lived in the Castle -for a time, I believe, and he certainly built the “Laura” tower, which -stands on the foundations of the old watch-tower. Telford was in -Shrewsbury when the tower of Old St. Chad’s showed signs of collapsing, -and, on his advice being asked, said the church should be repaired -without delay. The Parish Vestry begged him to meet them in St. Chad’s -to discuss the matter, and demurred so long at the expense that at last -Telford walked out of the church, saying grimly that he would rather -talk the matter over in some place where there was less danger of the -roof falling on his head. Two or three days later it fell. - -Not far from the fragments of this ruined church is the High Street, -where are some of the oldest and prettiest houses in the town; and hard -by is the Tudor marketplace, with its statue of Richard, Duke of York. -The claims of the Unitarian chapel in the same street are not based on -beauty, but on the fact that Coleridge’s voice once rose in it “like a -steam of rich distilled perfumes,” according to William Hazlitt, who -had walked ten miles to hear Coleridge preach here, and was as much -delighted, he says, “as if he had heard the music of the spheres.” -Charles Darwin attended the services of this chapel as a boy, but was -baptized in New St. Chad’s, the eighteenth-century church near the -Quarry, within whose classical walls Dr. Johnson once worshipped. The -Doctor’s famous rolling walk, too, of which we have all heard so much, -was once seen under the splendid limes of the Quarry. - -[Illustration: OLD STREET IN SHREWSBURY. - -_Photo by W. D. Haydon._] - -[Illustration: RICHARD BAXTER’S HOUSE, EATON CONSTANTINE.] - -As we entered Shrewsbury by the English Bridge we caught a glimpse of -the Abbey behind us. Leaving the town by the London Road, on our way -to see something of the eastern side of the county, we shall pass -close by the old red building that was partly spared when Roger de -Montgomery’s great monastery was dissolved. It will be worth while to -stop the engine for a moment, and to look at the massive Norman piers -of the nave, the fine altar-tombs, and the fragment of St. Winifred’s -shrine. The founder himself was buried here, after a long life of storm -and stress, and three days in a monk’s habit; but the knightly figure -that has been thought to represent him is said by the best authorities -to be of a later date than his. This Roger is very prominent in -Shropshire history, and is, indeed, not unknown in that of England, for -he figured in the Battle of Hastings, and wherever he figured he made -himself felt. We hear many conflicting things of his character, but -from them all we gather that he was a typical man of his day, spending -his time chiefly in acquiring his neighbour’s goods, and his leisure -moments in building abbeys. Having built this Abbey of Shrewsbury he -was careful to see that other people enriched it, and it soon became -one of the most important in England. Its actual buildings covered ten -acres: yet now all of it that we can see is this restored church, and, -across the road, a relic of a later date. There, in the din and dust -of a coal-yard, stands the graceful stone pulpit that was once in the -refectory wall. From under its delicately carved canopy a lay brother -read pious works aloud to the monks while they ate. - -As we drive up the Abbey Foregate, between the trees and old houses, -the memory of the Benedictines is with us still; for it was down -this road that the monks, with their abbot at their head, came once -in solemn procession with the bones of St. Winifred. These, by the -combined use of a smooth tongue and a stout spade, they had brought -triumphantly away from the churchyard of a Welsh village, knowing full -well that no wealth of lands and churches enriched a monastery so -surely as a handful of saintly dust. - -At the top of the Foregate is the column on which Lord Hill stands -above a list of his battles. Here we keep to the London Road, and are -soon in the open country. We are bound for Boscobel, but as there is -a good deal to be seen on the way, a round of forty-three miles is not -as short as it seems. Between Shrewsbury and Atcham the scenery is -not particularly interesting, but the road is level and the surface -good, so we have our compensations. From the picturesque bridge at -Atcham there is a lovely view of distant Caradoc, with the Severn in -the foreground, and on the river bank the old church that is said to -have been largely built, like that at Wroxeter, of the stones from the -Roman city of Uriconium. We are very near that city now. If we take -the first turn to the right after leaving Atcham, we shall soon be -actually passing over the ashes of “the White Town in the Woodland,” -as it was called by the Welsh poet who sang of its tragic end; and a -moment later we shall see, near the roadside, a fragment of the wall of -its basilica. By asking for the key at a cottage close at hand, and by -paying sixpence, we may see also the remains of its public baths, and a -piece of tesselated pavement that might have been laid down yesterday. -Many relics of this town that was built by the Romans, inhabited by -the British, and burnt by the Saxons, have been found within the limits -of the hundred and seventy acres that it once covered: skeletons of -men and women crouching where they had vainly sought safety in the -hypocausts of the burning baths; coins scattered by fugitives; pathetic -trifles of women’s dress--hairpins, buckles, and a brooch whose pin -still works. Older than these are the urns and tombstones found in the -Roman cemetery; the tombstone of Petronius, who is thought to have -taken part in the victory over Boadicea; and that of “Placida, aged -fifty-four, raised by the care of her husband.” Most of the relics have -been moved, for safe keeping, to the Museum in Shrewsbury. - -From Uriconium a very pretty road leads us to Buildwas. The Severn -winds below us on the right, and on the hillside to the left is the -little village of Eaton Constantine, which Constantine the Norman--who -also gave his name to the Côtentin in France--held in the days of -Domesday Book at a rental of a pair of white gloves, valued at one -penny. Even at this distance is visible the black-and-white gable -of the farmhouse that was once the home of Richard Baxter, author -of “The Saints’ Everlasting Rest,” and an amazing number of other -books--enough, said Judge Jeffreys, “to load a cart.” Dr. Johnson, -however, pronounced them to be “all good.” Here, we learn, Baxter -“passed away his Childhood and Youth, which upon Reflection he, -according to the Wise Man’s Censure, found to be vanity.” In spite of -these austere views, however, his childhood was not without its wild -oats, for we are told that he “joyn’d sometimes with other Naughty Boys -in Robbing his Neighbours’ Orchards of their Fruit, when he had eno’ at -home ... and was bewitched with a love of Romances and Idle Tales.” - -Presently, after passing through the pretty village of -Leighton-under-the-Wrekin, we see Buildwas, the Shelter near the Water, -on the further side of the river. Perhaps this is the most striking -view of the fourteen massive pillars of this roofless nave, in which -the Cistercians of the twelfth century austerely worshipped; but we -can visit the ruins if we wish to do so by crossing the bridge that has -quite recently superseded one built by Telford. There is not very much -more to be seen at close quarters than from here: the great charm of -Buildwas lies in its effect as a whole, in its simplicity and strength, -and in its position by the river. - -[Illustration: BUILDWAS ABBEY. - -_Photo by W. D. Haydon._] - -[Illustration: MADELEY COURT.] - -About a mile beyond Buildwas is Ironbridge, named from the first bridge -ever built in England of iron, which here spans the Severn at a height -of forty feet, by a single arch of a hundred feet in width. It was the -work of Abraham Darby, the third of his name, and was finished in 1779. -A gradient of 1 in 10 takes us through Ironbridge, and less than two -miles further on is Madeley, which appears at first sight the very type -of all that is unromantic, a prey to coal-dust and miners; yet if we -turn off the main road to the left we shall presently find, hidden in -a hollow near Madeley Court Station, as poetic a spot as we shall see -in many a day’s journey. Perhaps its very contrast to its surroundings -adds to its charm; perhaps to some it may not seem charming at all, -but merely a tumble-down, ill-kept house. But to others this little -nook, with the weather-stained, crumbling walls and tiled gables of -the Court House, the swinging ivy, the still pond, the bulrushes and -water-lilies, and the red-and-black timbered barn that once sheltered a -fugitive king, are a “faery land forlorn,” the very home of glamour and -romance. Here Charles II. arrived one night, dressed in green breeches -and a noggen shirt. He was tired and hungry, his hands and face were -smudged with soot, and he answered to the name of William Jones. He -was refreshed in this house, and spent the next day in the barn with -Richard Penderel, one of the five brothers to whom he owed his safety. -When night fell he walked to Boscobel. - -It was hours before he was there, whereas we, if we were as much -hurried as he was, might be there in half an hour or so. But though -there is nothing to keep us at Shifnal we must pause at Tong, where -there are some especially pretty timbered cottages and a church that -is really remarkable, for it contains a collection of tombs which I -should imagine to be unequalled in a village church. They are those of -the Vernon family, and among them is that of Dame Margaret Stanley, -the sister of Dorothy Vernon, of Haddon Hall. Charles Dickens said -himself that it was of Tong Village he was thinking when he wrote the -end of “The Old Curiosity Shop,” and those to whom Little Nell appeals -may think of her and her grandfather in the porch of this church. Some -of us, however, will take more interest in the shot-marks that have -scarred the northern wall ever since the days of the Civil War. - -In a park near the village stands the astonishing structure called Tong -Castle. It was once a real castle of stone; in the sixteenth century -Sir Henry Vernon rebuilt it of brick; in the eighteenth a new owner -thought that Moorish cupolas would make a pretty finish to it. When, in -1643, it was in the possession of the Parliamentarians, it was said on -that account to be a “great eye-sore to his Majesty’s good subjects -who pass’d yt road.” For other reasons it is so still. - -A writer of the seventeenth century describes Boscobel as “a very -obscure habitation, situate in a kind of wilderness”; and no doubt it -was to this obscurity that Charles II. owed his safety. Even to-day -it is wonderfully isolated, and we reach it by a series of rather -circuitous by-roads; but we can drive right up to the house, and leave -our car in a safe enclosure, while we walk a hundred yards to the -Royal Oak--not the original “asylum of the most potent prince King -Charles II. ... the oak beloved by Jove,”[1] which was mostly made into -snuff-boxes and other treasures for the loyal--but an oak grown from -an acorn of that “fortunate tree.” When Charles reached Boscobel at -three o’clock in the morning he was taken into the big panelled room -that we shall presently see, and was refreshed with bread and cheese -and a posset of milk and beer. Colonel Carlis, another fugitive from -Worcester, “pulled off his Majesty’s shoos, which were full of gravel, -and stockens which were very wet,” and at daybreak went with him into -the wood, where they both climbed into the oak--here, where we are -standing--with a cushion for his Majesty to sit on. Here, for a great -part of the day, the tired King slept with his head on Colonel Carlis’s -knee. “He bore all these hardships and afflictions with incomparable -patience,” says a contemporary historian. At night he was hidden in the -house, buried beneath the garret floor in a box-like priest’s-hole, -with a load of cheese on the lid. We may climb the stairs and see it; -get into it if we will--and ask ourselves if, after spending a night in -it, we should be as lighthearted as this man who at any moment might -lose his life and had already lost everything else. In the morning -he called for a frying-pan and butter, and, having first despatched -Colonel Carlis with a dagger to slaughter a neighbour’s sheep, he gaily -cooked himself some mutton collops, while the Colonel, “being but -under-cook (and that honour enough too), made the fire and turned the -collops in the pan.” - -From Boscobel we strike due north to Ivetsey Bank, where we shall -find an inn capable of providing a good, if homely, luncheon or -tea. Thence sixteen miles on Watling Street will bring us without a -pause (_unberufen!_) through Wellington to the point where we left -the main road on our outward journey. It is worth while, by the way, -to avoid the unpleasant bit of road through Oakengates by striking -across to the main road from Shifnal; to do which we must take a turn -in St. George’s, where a lamp-post stands out prominently. We enter -Shrewsbury, as we left it, by the London Road. - - * * * * * - -A slightly longer run, covering about fifty miles altogether, will show -us something of the northern part of the county on its western side. We -drive out of the town past the station and through the squalid suburb -of Ditherington, where, for love of our springs and of humanity, we -must perforce drive slowly, by reason of the bumpiness of the surface -and the phenomenal number of children. Over this ground rode Henry IV. -and Prince Hal to the Battle of Shrewsbury, and there on our right is -Haughmond Hill, the “busky hill” to which Shakespeare refers. Presently -there appears on the left, a few hundred yards away from the road, the -church of Battlefield, raised, with the exception of the tower, quite -soon after the battle on the spot where the fight raged most fiercely, -in order that masses might be sung perpetually “for the prosperity of -the King and the souls of the slain.” Here Harry Hotspur died, and -with him thousands of others both gentle and simple, for this was a -very notable fight and many interests were concerned in it. Beneath -the mounds that we see on the south side of the church are the bones -of many of the slain. The King “had many marching in his coats,” as -Hotspur puts it in “Henry IV.,” and as they were killed in mistake for -him he saved himself by a device more ingenious than kingly. - -There is nothing of special note between Battlefield and Hawkestone, -which is about twelve miles from Shrewsbury, and is a private park, -open to visitors. In the rhododendron season it is well worth while to -leave one’s car at the extremely nice hotel at the outskirts of the -park, and to walk about a mile through pretty grounds swarming with -black rabbits, to see the blaze of blossom for which Hawkestone is -famous. And yet I think they will fare still better who choose the time -of bluebells. These should drive through the park by the public road. -Beyond the gate, where the stream is close to them on the right and -woods slope to its edge, they will see, bright in the near foreground -but fading away into the distance under the trees in a misty cloud, -a soft, ethereal veil of grey-blue. Here and there the green breaks -through, and the flowers look like wisps of smoke trailing across the -grass. This wonderful sheet of mystic blue borders the river and the -road for some way, till the wood ends suddenly, and Hodnet Hall comes -in sight. - -One really grows a little tired of recording the picturesqueness of -Shropshire villages. They are nearly all pretty: for the houses, -when they are not of timber and plaster, are often built of the warm -red sandstone that is the stone of the county and acquires such soft, -mellow colours in its old age. But I sometimes think Hodnet is the -prettiest village of them all. Half the houses are black-and-white; and -near the church gate a group of timber gables, with the octagonal tower -in the background, forms a complete and perfectly composed picture. -Bishop Reginald Heber, the author of “From Greenland’s icy mountains,” -was rector of Hodnet for some years before he sailed for “India’s coral -strand.” - -From Hodnet we may either drive back to Shrewsbury or turn to the left -in the middle of the village and take a run of about thirty-four miles -by Market Drayton and Newport, two picturesque old towns with a good -road between them. The scenery in this part of the county is pleasing, -but not especially striking. If we choose this way we shall, as we -draw near Shrewsbury, pass the ruins of Haughmond, one of the great -Shropshire abbeys. - -Long ago there was a hermitage at the foot of this “busky hill”; before -William FitzAlan’s monastery for Austin Canons rose here, with the -great church that has practically disappeared,[2] and the tall gable -with the turrets that are so conspicuous to-day, and the chapter-house -with the beautiful doorway. This Abbey was greatly patronised by -royalty. Stephen gave it a mill, Matilda gave it lands “for the -remission of her sins,” Henry II. gave churches, and Henry III. more -land, and Llewelyn of Wales “a moiety of Kenwicke.” The list of other -benefactions is endless: mills and fisheries, churches and markets, -woods and hogs and herds. Many were the “privileges of flesh and fish” -enjoyed by the canons of Haughmond; and Abbot Nicholas, in Edward -III.’s time, desiring to make the most of all these luxuries, built -a new kitchen for the brethren and “appointed them a cook to dress -their food.” It was in 1541 that Henry VIII., as his manner was, took -possession of Haughmond and all its riches, “beyng mynded to take the -same into his own handes for a better purpose”; and so the minster, -for which he had no use, gradually vanished. Nothing is left of it but -a fragment of wall and a doorway. Two tombs that were once within the -chancel now lie open to the sky on the hillside, where their appeal for -the prayers of the passers-by is of far more pathetic force than it -ever was under the shelter of the Abbey’s roof:-- - - “_Vous Ki Passez Par Ici Priez Pur L’Alme Johan Fitz Aleine Ki Git - Ici. Deu De Sa Alme Eit Merci. Amen._” - - “_Isabel De Mortimer Sa Femme Acost De Li. Deu De Lur Alme Eit - Merci. Amen._” - -[Illustration: HAUGHMOND ABBEY.] - -From this road near Haughmond we have perhaps the loveliest view of -distant Shrewsbury. The pale hills rim the horizon, the river winds in -the foreground, and between them rise the clear outlines of the two -incomparable spires that crown The Delight. - - * * * * * - -Another of the Shropshire monasteries that must certainly be seen is -Wenlock Priory, which lies on the way to Bridgnorth. It is a fairly -level road that leads to it by Cross Houses and Cound and pretty -Cressage, which in Domesday Book is Cristes-ache, or Christ’s Oak. -Christianity was preached here, it is said, under an old oak-tree, in -days so early that when St. Augustine visited the place he found it -already Christian. Between Harley and Wenlock there is a hill which the -Contour Book describes with perfect accuracy as “a precipitous hill on -which innumerable accidents have happened.” The accidents, I fancy, -have mostly happened to horse-drawn vehicles and bicycles--especially -the latter--when descending the hill, for it is a mile long and has a -turn in the middle. There is no reason why it should inconvenience a -good car, for the average gradient is nothing more alarming than 1 in -8, and it is well worth climbing for the sake of the wide view from the -top, just beyond which Much Wenlock lies. - -[Illustration: WENLOCK PRIORY, ST. JOHN’S CHAPEL. - -_Photo by W. D. Haydon._] - -Milburga, Saxon princess and saint, built the first religious house -at Wenlock, and became its abbess, and was finally buried within its -precincts. William of Malmesbury tells us how, long after her death, -she enriched the place to which she had given her life and all she -possessed. “Milburga,” he says, “reposes at Wenlock ... but for -some time after the arrival of the Normans, through ignorance of the -place of her burial, she was neglected. Lately, however, a convent -of Clugniac monks being established there, while a new church was -erecting, a certain boy, running violently along the pavement, broke -into the hollow of the vault, and discovered the body of the virgin, -when a balsamic odour pervading the whole church, she was taken up, and -performed so many miracles that the people flocked thither in great -multitudes. Large spreading plains could hardly contain the troops -of pilgrims, while rich and poor came side by side, one common faith -compelling all.” - -The convent of Clugniac monks in question was built by that notable -man Roger de Montgomery, and was the same whose ruins speak so plainly -to-day of the ornate tastes of the monks of Clugny. We saw no arcaded -walls such as these of the chapter-house, nor richly moulded doorways, -nor any such elaborate ornament at Cistercian Buildwas, whose lands -marched with the lands of this Priory, and whose monks found the -Rule of Clugny too soft, the tastes of Clugny too enervating. Go to -Wenlock in the spring, when its slender columns rise above a sea of -sweet-scented flowers, and its old wall is bright with rock-plants--for -the Priory stands in private grounds and is cared for like a garden. -It is the third religious house that has stood on this spot, for -between the days of Milburga, the royal saint, and those of Roger and -his Clugniacs, there was another monastery founded here by Leofric -of Mercia and his wife Godiva, a well-loved woman whom we are glad -to connect with this beautiful spot. The picturesque old Prior’s -Lodge is inhabited, and it is only on Tuesdays and Fridays that the -world at large is admitted to the ruins. Perhaps nothing recalls to -one so vividly the daily life of the monks in this place as the long -causeway that stretches across the field near the Priory garden. It -was here that the brothers took their daily exercise, raised above the -surrounding marsh--a long procession of dark figures, walking slowly to -and fro--and among them, unsuspected, that interesting swashbuckler of -whom we long to hear more, that man of extremes whose strange career -is all summed up for us in one short, pregnant sentence. “In 1283,” we -learn, “a brother of Wenlac became a captain of banditti.” We hear no -more of him, alas! except that he was hanged. - -The road to Bridgnorth is a continuation of the one by which we entered -the town, so we must drive back, past the beautiful old Guildhall and -market-place, up the street to the Gaskell Arms, where we may have -luncheon if, as may well occur to motorists, we are too hungry to wait -till we reach the more imposing “Crown” at Bridgnorth. At the Gaskell -Arms we turn sharply to the left, and thence eight or nine miles of -good road, with several steep hills, will bring us to Bridgnorth. - -[Illustration: WENLOCK PRIORY, CHAPTER HOUSE. - -_Photo by W. D. Haydon_.] - -[Illustration: BISHOP PERCY’S BIRTHPLACE, BRIDGNORTH.] - -Ever since the Danes built a fort here this town, nearly as consistently -as Shrewsbury and Ludlow, has concerned itself with history. It has -been visited by half the kings of England. Henry I. besieged it; Henry -II. defended it; John and Edward I. stayed in it; Edward II. took -refuge in it; Henry IV. gathered his army here on his way to the -Battle of Shrewsbury; Charles I. was besieged here by Cromwell, who -narrowly escaped death before the walls. The Castle, of course, was the -centre of interest on all these occasions--the Castle that was built -so hurriedly by Robert de Belesme, Roger de Montgomery’s son, and is -now so conspicuous on account of its leaning tower. Round its ruins -is a path that must be practically the same as that which Charles I. -declared to be as pleasant a walk as any in his kingdom. Robert de -Belesme, who has been described with apparent justice as “an implacable -villain,” also founded the church of St. Mary Magdalene, but the -present building was designed by Telford. Another interesting church -is St. Leonard’s, where in the churchyard the Roundheads once beat the -Royalists in a skirmish, and where Richard Baxter was a curate. He -lived in the little black-and-white cottage close at hand, and seems -to have had a poor opinion of his flock. “He found the people here -generally ignorant and dead-hearted,” he says, “... so that though by -his first Labours among them he was Instrumental in the Conversion -of several Persons, and was generally Applauded, yet ... Tippling and -Ill Company rendred his Preaching ineffectual.” If his preaching was -ineffectual it at all events began early, for “when he was a little -Boy in Coats, if he heard other Children in Play speak Profane Words -he would reprove them, to the wonder of those that heard him.” At this -time--when he was a little Boy in Coats--he lived at Rowton in this -county; it was not till he was ten years old that he moved to Eaton -Constantine and indulged in dark deeds in his neighbours’ orchards. - -An extremely steep dip with an awkward corner in the middle of it will -take us to the birthplace of another famous divine, Bishop Percy, best -known in connection with “Percy’s Reliques.” The house, which stands -in the Cartway, may be approached quite comfortably from below, and is -worth seeing for its own sake, being a good example of black-and-white -work. - -Our best way home from here is by Ironbridge and Buildwas, on the road -by which we drove to Boscobel. Between Bridgnorth and Ironbridge some -of the country is pretty, and at Broseley especially it must have been -lovely in its natural state, before it was ruined by the potteries. We -cross the river by Abraham Darby’s iron bridge. - - * * * * * - -A run of forty-seven miles or so, by Wem, Whitchurch, and Ellesmere, -will show us a good deal of the north-west part of the county, and -if, when we reach Whitchurch, we choose to lengthen the distance to -fifty-four miles by slipping over the Welsh border to Overton and -Erbistock, we shall not regret it. - -We leave Shrewsbury by the road that branches to the left immediately -opposite to the station. Almost at once, at the point where the road -touches the Severn, we pass a long, low house of timber and plaster -on our right. It was from this house that Admiral Benbow ran away to -sea. He was living here as an apprentice, to his father or another, -and, since it was the custom to entrust the house-key to the care of -the apprentice, he had, fortunately for himself and England, special -facilities for making his escape. He hid the key in the tree that is -marked with a ring of whitewash, and stands between the house and the -railings; and there to this day it hangs. - -Between Shrewsbury and Whitchurch there is nothing of particular -interest except the old farmhouse called Albright Hussey, which stands -in a field on the right about three miles out of Shrewsbury. It is -a pretty old moated house, partly black-and-white; but its greatest -beauty is within, where there is as charming a room as one need wish -to see, a room to make a housewife weep tears of covetousness--low, -oblong, oak-panelled to the ceiling, with seats in the mullioned -windows and a carved fireplace. The house is inhabited, but I -believe there is never any difficulty in obtaining leave to see -it. Its sixteenth-century walls were once threatened by a party of -Parliamentarian horse. There were only eight men to defend the place, -but their leader was a crafty man, and shouted his orders aloud within -hearing of the enemy. “Let ten men stay here, and ten go there, and -twenty stay with me!” he cried; and the attacking force, dismayed by -the number of mythical defenders, rode away and left the stone and -timber, the mullioned windows and oaken wainscotes, to be a joy to us -to-day. - -In Wem, however, through which we presently pass, it was the -“Parliament men” who were in the ascendent. The place acted a prominent -part in the Civil War, and has a history many centuries long, but on -the surface is commonplace enough. In the List of the Owners of the -Manor of Wem the twenty-fourth name is the grim one of “Sir George -Jeffreys, Knight and Baronet, and Lord Chief Justice of the King’s -Bench, created in 1685 a peer of England by the style and title of -Baron Jeffreys of Wem.” - -At Whitchurch we must draw up at the door of St. Alkmund’s Church; -not because it is old or beautiful, for the original church fell down -in 1711 and was entirely rebuilt; nor because Dean Swift subscribed -to the rebuilding of it; but because it contains the dust of the -great Talbot, first Earl of Shrewsbury, “the scourge of France.” His -valiant heart lies beneath the white stone in the porch, where careless -thousands have trodden it underfoot. It was found there in an urn when -the church was rebuilt, and with it were some figures of Christ and -the Virgin Mary from Talbot’s rosary. His bones are in the chancel, -whither, about fifty years after his death, they were brought from the -battlefield of Chastillon, where a little chapel had been raised on -the spot where he fell.[3] His effigy lies on a tomb that is an exact -copy of the original one. While this restoration was in progress the -bones of the great soldier were shown to the public, with the skull -cleft by the axe that killed him. “This is that terrible Talbot,” says -Thomas Fuller, “so famous for his sword ... which constantly conquered -where it came, insomuch that the bare fame of his approach frighted the -French from the siege of Bordeaux. Being victorious for twenty-four -years together, success failed him at last.... Henceforward we may say -‘Good-night to the English in France,’ whose victories were buried with -the body of this earl.” - -From Whitchurch we drive about fourteen miles in a westerly direction -to Overton Bridge, by Hanmer and Overton village, a pretty little -place with a churchyard surrounded by yew-trees. Having crossed the -bridge, which is about two miles beyond the village, we turn to the -left at right angles and approach Erbistock by a road whose greatest -recommendation to inveterate lovers of speed will be that it is short. -After one experience, however, most of us will agree, I think, that -this by-road needs no recommendation but the fact that it leads to -Erbistock. A tiny church and a tiny inn at the brim of the Dee--that is -all that there is at Erbistock. But it is all enclosed in trees, and -the trees dip into the river, and the river is rather big and gentle -and gurgles sweetly at one’s feet, and the woods on the other side are -tangled and mysterious and full of fairies. One may have one’s tea -close beside the water, or one may cross the river in a ferry, and soon -be quite alone in the woods. There is no need to hurry, for when we -leave Erbistock we need not stop again till we reach Shrewsbury. - -For Ellesmere, “wher was a castelle,” says Leland, “and very fair polis -yet be,” has now nothing left of its castle but the memory of it, and -the fair pools may be seen as we pass. More than once Ellesmere was -given as a dowry to the daughters of English kings, on their marriage -with Cymric princes; for as the rulers of the two countries were sure -to fall out soon after the wedding the gift was quickly taken back by -the donor, and so was ready for the next bride. Thus, though Henry II. -gave it to his sister Emma, there was nothing to prevent King John from -giving it to his daughter Joan, twenty-seven years later, when she -married Llewelyn the Great. - -I think it must have been beside the lake, where on the level ground -there would be room for the dramatic scene, that Rupert, halting here -at Ellesmere, made his prisoners cast lots upon the drum to decide -which of them should die. Thirteen were doomed; but at the last -moment one of them was saved by Sir Vincent Corbet, who as he rode -past interceded for the man, who had been a servant in his family. -The rest were hanged there and then. Yet it is not they who haunt the -rushy banks of the mere; but the White Lady of Oteley. Long ago, it is -said, she robbed and ruined a monastery, and built herself a home here -with the spoils--a home that she has never left since then, except to -walk by night along the margin of the water. She was not even allowed -to move to the new house when it was built about a hundred years ago, -for a fragment of the old one was left standing in the park on purpose -for her accommodation. The new house faces us very conspicuously as we -drive close beside the water on the opposite side of the mere, and go -on our way to Shrewsbury, which is about sixteen miles away. - - * * * * * - -In the south-west, which is the hilliest, and therefore the prettiest, -part of Shropshire, there is a variety of little runs, which may -be lengthened or shortened according to circumstances and tastes. A -pretty round of about fifty miles is by Chirbury and Bishop’s Castle, -whence either of two lovely roads will bring us back to Shrewsbury. -Nineteen miles of nearly level road lead to Chirbury through several -villages--Westbury, Worthen, Marton, and others--all of which are -fairly picturesque, but with nothing very noteworthy about them. Just -before Marton is reached there is an exceedingly sharp turn, which -should be borne in mind. At Chirbury our road turns to the left in the -middle of the village. - -The name of this obscure little place has been known to the world for -some centuries in connection with that strange person Lord Herbert of -Chirbury, half ruffler, half scholar, who in a house only a few miles -from here, across the Welsh border, wrote the famous autobiography -that Horace Walpole called “perhaps the most extraordinary account -that was ever given seriously by a wise man of himself.” His home for -the greater part of his life, when he was not seeking adventures and -duels in France or London, was in Montgomery Castle, whose ruins we -may see by driving four miles further. Nothing but a fragment is left -of it now, but when the Herberts lived there it must have been a fine -sight on its wild crag; a more fitting home for Edward the soldier than -for his gentler and still more famous brother George. Chirbury itself -had a castle and a priory once; but of the castle, which was built -by the ever active Ethelfleda, nothing remains but the site; and of -the monastery there are only fragments left, for the present church, -ancient as it is, was not used by the monks, but was then, as now, the -parish church.[4] It has seen strange doings. It is hard to realise, -when the bells ring in this lonely little village, and the quiet -country folk take their seats for the morning service, that here within -these very walls the congregation of Chirbury was once electrified by -the clashing of armour and the clatter of horses’ hoofs in the aisle. -It was during the Civil War, and Mr. Edward Lewis, “a very goodly man, -did preach twice a day”; a rash thing for a Puritan to do when Captain -Corbet was no further off than Caus Castle. A party of Royalist horse -“rode into the church to the great fright and amazement of the people; -and with their pistols charged and cocked went up into the pulpit and -pulled down Mr. Lewis, pulling and tugging him in a most unworthy -manner ... and so left the people without their pastor because they -would not be content with one sermon a day.” - -It was this same Edward Lewis who brought to Chirbury the chained -library that almost certainly belonged to George Herbert; for Isaac -Walton tells us of “a choice library which Mr. Herbert had fastened -with chains in a fit room in Montgomery Castle.” This choice library -contains books dating from 1530 to 1684, and among them is a -black-letter folio copy of Chaucer. They are kept in the vicarage, and -I believe may be seen by any one. - -Turning to the left in Chirbury we soon pass Marrington Hall, or -_Havodwen_, the White Summer-house, as the Welsh call it; a very fine -example of sixteenth-century black-and-white work. The lovely little -valley beyond it is Marrington Dingle, and a mile or two further on -is Churchstoke. It is in this pretty part of Shropshire that the uses -of the motor-car are especially noticeable, for railway stations are -few and distant from each other, and the hilliness of the country is -not encouraging to bicyclists. Of Bishop’s Castle there is little to -be said, for pretty as the country is all round it, the town itself -is unattractive, and the castle is no more. But all the ways back to -Shrewsbury from here are lovely. We may join the Stretton road, which -we already know, at Marshbrook, and so see one of the most charming -little bits of wooded country in Shropshire; or we may follow the hilly -road through the wild scenery near Ratlinghope, down Cothercott Hill, -and through Longden and Hookagate. Cothercott Hill is very steep and -has a bad surface, but it is only for a short way that the gradient is -really severe, and the view from the top is one of the wildest in the -country. Personally, however, I should recommend the third way back to -Shrewsbury--over the moor to the Roman Gravels, and down through the -woods of the winding Hope Valley to Minsterley. - -As there is nothing in the whole of this little run to delay us, we may -lengthen it, if our car is good on hills and we are of an enterprising -temperament, by going on from Bishop’s Castle to Clun, or even to -Knighton, and round by Leintwardine to join the Ludlow road. This is -a beautiful bit of country, and full of interest. Leland tells us -of the “faire forest of Clun.” “Cumming from Bisshop’s Castelle to -Clunne lordshippe,” he says, “cummeth doune a greate woode grouing -on a hille.” Much of this great wood is gone now, but there is still -enough to make the country very “faire,” and to compensate a motorist -for the climbing of a long hill. Suddenly, as we round a corner, Clun -comes into sight between two hills, with the stern tower of its castle -standing conspicuously above the river. “Clunne Castell,” says Leland, -“longynge to the Erle of Arundel, sumewhat ruinus. It hath bene bothe -stronge and well builded.” It is more than somewhat ruinous now, which -is hardly surprising when one considers all it has gone through at -the hands of Welshmen and Roundheads since it was built in Stephen’s -reign. There is a story that the stones of which it is made were passed -from hand to hand by a chain of men, from the quarry, a mile away, to -the river-bank where the castle stands; but be that as it may, these -crumbling stones, with their soft tints of grey and yellow, embody -enough romance to satisfy us, I think, seeing that they are connected -with all the greatest names of Wales. They have been stormed and -burnt by Rhys of the south; they have been attacked in vain by great -Llewelyn of the north; they have been overcome by Owen Glyndwr. They -are connected with modern romance, too, for it is supposed that the -“Garde Dolareuse,” in the “Betrothed,” represents the Castle of Clun, -and the Buffalo Inn claims to have sheltered Sir Walter Scott while he -was writing part of the book. - -Everything is old at Clun: the church; the fine old bridge, of whose -building there is no record; and the “Hospital of the Holy and -Undivided Trinity at Clunn,” which was founded by the Duke of Norfolk -in 1614 for distressed tradesmen, who were each to receive yearly “a -gown ready-made of strong cloth or kersey, of a sad colour.” - -The road between Clun and Knighton is not one to be undertaken lightly -by small cars of uncertain hill-climbing powers, for it is mostly -composed of long and precipitous hills, with gradients varying from 1 -in 8 to 1 in 10; but the surface is good, and though the scenery is not -particularly interesting at first, it becomes really lovely as we draw -near Knighton, which lies in a valley, surrounded by wooded hills. Here -we turn to the left, and by way of compensation the road from Knighton -to Leintwardine is particularly level, along a narrow valley between -green hills that belong to Shropshire on the left and to Herefordshire -on the right. As the valley widens out into open country we reach -Brampton Brian, associated for ever with the name of Brilliana, Lady -Harley. That gallant-hearted lady was alone in her husband’s castle of -Brampton when it was threatened by the forces of Charles I., for the -Harleys were “Parliament men.” “I acknowleg,” she writes, “I doe not -thinke meself safe wheare I am.” Safe she certainly was not, but she -thanked God that she was “not afraide”; and when the Royalists bade -her surrender she simply answered, “I must endeavour to keep what is -mine as well as I can, in which I have the law of nature, of reason, -and of the law on my side, and you none to take it from me.” The siege -lasted some weeks, and Lady Harley, always delicate, suffered greatly; -but when pressed to yield said “she would rather choose an honourable -death.” She died; but this first siege was raised before her “heavenly -and happy end,” and so she never knew that the castle was besieged -again, was surrendered, and burnt to the ground.[5] - -A few miles further on is Leintwardine, which I believe to be full of -antiquarian interest, and know to be picturesque as an artist’s dream; -and here, if we care to face a narrow byway with a rough surface, we -may leave the main road and take the more direct route to Craven Arms -by way of Clungunford. At Craven Arms we rejoin the road from Ludlow to -Shrewsbury. - - * * * * * - -Of the many main roads that converge in Shrewsbury I have left to the -last the one that is in some ways the most important, the one that -is certainly the most famous; that road of great memories and great -achievement, by which so many Royal Mails have travelled breathlessly -at the dashing pace of eleven miles an hour, and by which we may travel -to-day at a pace that nothing shall induce me to betray: Telford’s road -to Holyhead. It is the road by which, if we are fortunate, we are going -into North Wales. If, however, it is our sad fate to turn our backs on -that most beautiful land, we must on no account neglect to run over to -Llangollen, a distance of thirty miles: for though I have left it to -the last on the assumption that we are going on to Wales, it is one of -the most enjoyable drives in this neighbourhood. - -We leave Shrewsbury by the Welsh Bridge, the scene of Henry VII.’s -remarkable entry into the town over the body of the stout, wise -bailiff; and as we reach the top of the hill beyond it we pass on the -right the house in which Charles Darwin was born. At the corner where -the Holyhead road turns sharply to the right, about half a mile beyond -the last houses of the town, there stands in a private garden a famous -tree known as the Shelton Oak. I mention it merely because its fame -rests on a libel. There are those who will tell you--cheerfully taking -a great man’s name in vain--that Owen Glyndwr sat in this tree watching -the Battle of Shrewsbury when he should have been taking part in it. -Our knowledge of this fiery prince’s characteristics might be enough, -one would think, to discredit the tale, without the proved fact that he -was extremely occupied in South Wales at the time! But still the tale -is told. - -Soon, at Montford Bridge, we cross the Severn, white with water-weeds -in the summer, and fringed with purple wild-flowers, and then, with -what speed we may, spin happily towards the Welsh hills. We can see -them on our left; the striking outline of the Breidden, with Rodney’s -Pillar on its topmost point, and beyond it a long blue range that -limits all the western horizon. At one spot only we have a choice of -roads. Telford’s road goes by Oswestry, an ancient town with an immense -history but few relics; but if at the “Queen’s Head,” fourteen miles -from Shrewsbury, we turn to the right, following the telegraph-posts, -we shall cut off more than a mile of distance and shall see Whittington. - -There are some places that are peculiarly haunted. One is infinitely -more conscious in them of the past than of the present. Such are Hay -and Beaupré--both of which we shall see later on. But Whittington -is not so much haunted as haunting. Hay and Beaupré are enchanted: -Whittington is itself the enchantment. It stands in a clump of trees -by the wayside, in the middle of the village, and one comes upon it -suddenly: a great fortified gateway of pale grey stone, reflected in -the weed-grown water of what was once its moat--and leading nowhere. -One thinks, not of its history, but of itself. One cannot believe that -it is merely the entrance to a vanished mediæval castle; it is rather -the Gate of Dreams, through which every man sometimes passes in search -of his heart’s desire. - -There is an old Norman-French romance that tells us how the White -Tower was built by William Peverel of the Peak, and how he promised -it as a dowry to Melette, the fairest of his nieces. “But none found -favour with her. And William reasoned with her, and besought her that -she would discover unto him if there was in the world any knight whom -she would take for lord.... ‘Certes, Sire,’ said she, ‘no knight is -there in all the world that I would take for the sake of riches and the -honour of lands, but if I ever take such an one he shall be handsome, -and courteous, and the most valiant of his order in Christendom.’” So -William proclaimed a tourney at the Peak, with Melette and the White -Tower for the prize; and among those who came to try their fortune was -one Guarin de Metz, well clad in red samite, with a crest of gold. “To -record the blows and the issues I am not minded,” says the story, “but -Guarin de Metz and his company proved that day the best, the fairest, -and the most valiant, and above all, Guarin was the most praised in all -ways.” So Guarin won the fastidious Melette of the White Tower, “and -with great joy did he take her, and the damsel him.”[6] - -This romance is not very reliable history, I fear, but it is true that -Whittington belonged at one time to the Peverels, and later to the -Fitz-Warines or Guarins, of whom it was probably the third who built -this gate in the reign of John. - -Two miles beyond Whittington is Gobowen, where we rejoin the main road; -and soon afterwards we dip into the narrow valley below Chirk, and with -the railway and the canal high above us on the left, cross the little -Ceiriog into Wales. - -[Illustration: WHITTINGTON CASTLE.] - -[Illustration: THE LLEDR VALLEY, FROM THE HOLYHEAD ROAD.] - - - - -A TOUR IN NORTH WALES - - -Here, on the very border of Wales, one is conscious of the Celtic -atmosphere. We left the quiet orderliness of England behind us when -we dipped down into this little valley, where the sparkling, bubbling -Ceiriog--every inch a Celt--calls to us to follow it up into the hills. -And so we will, as soon as we have climbed the other side of the valley -into Chirk village; turning there to the left, though our rightful -road, the road to Llangollen, lies directly in front of us. In Wales we -shall find ourselves constantly tempted to leave the highway, and in -most cases we shall be rewarded if we yield to the temptation without -ado. In this particular case we shall be rewarded with a dear little -glen, feathery birch-trees on the steep slopes, a yellow carpet in -primrose time, and a most charming little hotel about six miles up the -valley, at Glyn Ceiriog. - -Near Chirk the road sweeps round under the trees of the deer-park, -where “there is on a smaul hille a mighty large and stronge castel -with dyvers towers”; towers that have stood here for many generations, -defying time and war; for this castle of Chirk is no ruin like most of -its contemporaries, but an inhabited house. Yet not these towers, I -believe, but the old Welsh Castell Crogen, stood here when Henry II., -with “the chosen warriors of England,” and of several other countries, -marched up this valley to join battle with the great Owen Gwynedd and -all the might of Wales, who were encamped near Corwen. The English, -finding the trees in their way, cut them down as they advanced, which -so much infuriated some of the Welsh who were separated from their -main army, that the Ceiriog ran red with the blood of Henry’s chosen -warriors. This Battle of Crogen took place just below the older castle. - -Perhaps the most dramatic event in the life of the present Chirk -Castle was when it fell into the hands of the cavaliers, and its owner, -Sir Thomas Myddleton, a Parliamentary leader, was obliged to besiege -his own house in his own person. I believe that on one day of the week -the world at large is allowed to pass through the beautiful gates of -wrought iron, and up the long slope of the avenue, and into the castle -itself, to see all the treasures of art and history that George Borrow -saw when he was here: the cabinet of Charles II., and the portraits of -Nell Gwynne, and of “the very proud daughter of the house,” as Borrow -calls Addison’s wife, “the Warwick Dowager who married the Spectator, -and led him the life of a dog.” - -Across Chirk Park runs Offa’s Dyke, the long embankment “that was cast -up with great labour and industry by Offa the Mercian, as a boundary -between his Subjects and the Britains, from the mouth of Dee to that -of the River Wye.... Concerning which Joannes Sarisburiensis in his -‘Polycration’ saith that Harald establish’d a law that whatever -Welshman should be found arm’d on this side the limit he had set up, -then ... his right hand should be cut off by the King’s Officers.” It -touches the high-road a few miles beyond Chirk, just before we begin -the wonderful descent into the Vale of Llangollen; that long slope down -which we swing for several miles on a perfect gradient and a perfect -surface--marred, however, by an awkward turn--with the whole beautiful -valley spread out before us, and the Dee sweeping far below us, spanned -by the remarkable aqueduct called Pont-y-Cysylltau. Beyond it rise -the Eglwyseg crags, and far away the shattered fortress of Dinas Bran -is visible almost from the first on its peak above Llangollen. “The -castelle of Dinas Brane,” says Leland, “was never a bigge thing, but -sette al for strenght as in a place half inaccessible for enemyes.” -Even in his day it was “al in ruine,” and now there is only a fragment -left of it to remind us of those princes of ancient Powys who built -it in days so old as to be unchronicled, and defied the power of the -Saxon from within its walls; and of its owner in later days, Madoc ap -Gryffyth Maelor, who built the Abbey of Valle Crucis; and of the fair -Myfanwy, “all smiles and light,” who was loved by a poor bard of the -fourteenth century, and celebrated by him in a poem that still exists. - -At the foot of the crag on which Dinas Bran is perched lies -Llangollen--a little town that owes its charm entirely to its position. -Only a few miles away, in Shropshire, an ugly house is an exception: in -Wales it is unfortunately the rule. A town or village that is really -pretty in itself, apart from its surroundings, is almost unknown. But -so lovely is the position of Llangollen that in spite of its rather -squalid streets it is an entrancing place; so entrancing that Robert -Browning lived for some time at the Hand Hotel, and the two famous -“Ladies of Llangollen,” Lady Eleanor Butler and Miss Ponsonby, chose -it out of all the world for their life-long home. Llangollen is still -dominated by “the Ladies,” almost as much as by Dinas Bran itself. -They adorn the windows of all its photograph shops; they shine in -crude colours from all its china mugs; and in its churchyard we learn -from an extremely ugly tombstone that one of them, in the opinion of -the other, had “manners worthy of her Illustrious Birth.” It must be -admitted that such is not the impression given by the impartial. It -became the fashion for travellers of mark to visit this quaint couple -in their house up there on the hill, and they themselves insisted on -its being also the fashion to give them presents--carvings, miniatures, -curiosities of all kinds. If we care to climb a steep hill we may -see the outside of Plas Newydd now, a black-and-white house, which -must have been really pretty in its original simplicity, but is now -overladen with a mass of carving. From the road we can see the porch -in which “the Ladies” once stood “fussing and tottering about in an -agony of expectation,” waiting for Sir Walter Scott, and looking, says -Lockhart, “like a couple of hazy or crazy old sailors.” “Who could -paint,” he goes on, “the prints, the dogs, the cats, the miniatures, -the cram of cabinets, clocks, glass-cases, books, bijouterie, -dragon-china, nodding mandarins, and whirligigs of every shape and -hue--the whole house outside and in _covered_ with carved oak ... and -the illustrated copies of Sir W.’s poems, and the joking, simpering -compliments about Waverley.” But whether their manners were worthy of -their Illustrious Birth or not, they were true friends to each other, -and the guardian angels, as Lockhart admits, of Llangollen. It is an -interesting fact (which should not be forgotten) that the church under -whose shadow they lie is dedicated to St. Collen ap Gwynnawg ap Clydawg -ap Cowrda ap Caradog Freichfras ap Llyr Merimap Eini Yrth ap Cunedda -Wledig. - -Far more important than Plas Newydd or its memories of vanished -mandarins and whirligigs is the work of that prince of Powys, whose -name I mentioned in connection with Dinas Bran--Madoc ap Gryffyth -Maelor. In Pant-y-Groes, or the Valley of the Cross, stands Madoc’s -ruined abbey, the most perfect retreat, surely, that ever brought -comfort to the sad or sinful. It was of the Vale of Llangollen that -Ruskin characteristically wrote: “The whole valley, when once I got up -past the Works (whatever the accursed business of them) seemed to me -entirely lovely in its gentle wildness.” And it is this very quality -of gentle wildness that gives such charm to the little Glen of the -Cross, which joins the larger valley of the Dee just above Llangollen, -and is reached by way of the old stone bridge that was the first of its -kind in Wales. - -When, in a few minutes, we see the gable of Valle Crucis Abbey below -us on the right, we leave our car by the roadside. We leave, indeed, -the whole world behind us as we pass through the heavy door by which -there was once no returning. The narrow wooded valley hems us in, the -trees are close round us, the waters of the fishpond, in their absolute -stillness, add to the sense of aloofness and peace. And under our very -feet, perhaps, is the dust of Iolo Goch, the famous bard who sang of -“Owain Glyndwr, the great, the good”; for Iolo’s unmarked grave is -here; and here, too, lies Madoc, who built this abbey in the last year -of the twelfth century; and Myfanwy, the beautiful princess, “fairer -than the cherry’s bloom”; and others who died long, long before them. -To antiquarians the tombs of Valle Crucis are full of interest, for -there are some that seem to prove, says the custodian--himself an -antiquarian--that this Cistercian house rose on the site of an older -Benedictine building. The Cistercians never used warlike symbols, -but always the sign of the Cross; yet here on two stones of very -early date--the sixth or seventh century--are carved the sword, the -spear, and the battleaxe. Fragments of stained glass, too, have been -unearthed, and coloured tiles, though the Cistercian Rule forbade the -use of colour in any form. This austere Order, however, while avoiding -the use of the sword as a symbol, was apparently not averse to using -it as a weapon on occasion, for it was by fighting the Benedictines in -a neighbouring field, according to the custodian’s theory, that they -became possessed of the site of their abbey. Truth to tell, the extreme -austerity of the Cistercians seems to have relaxed in later days, for -we hear after a time of four courses of meat in silver dishes at Valle -Crucis, and of an abbot with three of his fingers covered with rings. -But these are disturbing thoughts. Let us rather take away with us a -picture of the quiet fishpond, with its water-weeds and clumps of -yellow flags, and the gable of the church reflected in it line for -line, and on the bank a hooded figure, dressed in white, with a placid -face and a busy fishing-rod. - -Quite near the abbey in a field is a far older relic, Eliseg’s Pillar, -the rough stone monument that gave its name to the Valley of the -Cross, though as a matter of fact it was probably never a cross. It -was once much higher than it is now, but in the days of the Civil War -the name of the valley was enough to make it _suspect_, and the pillar -was thrown down by the Puritans on the chance of its once having been -a cross. It has been much discussed and disagreed about, but at all -events its very great antiquity is a certainty, and the inscription -that is now illegible was luckily copied several centuries ago. -“Concenn,” it tells us, “the great grandson of Eliseg, erected this -stone to the memory of his great-grandfather, Eliseg. This is that -Eliseg who recovered his inheritance of Powis by his sword from the -power of the Angles.” - -Returning to Llangollen we cross the Dee again and go on our way upon -the road to Holyhead, up the ridge of Rhysgog, past Berwyn Station, and -so out of the Vale of Llangollen into that of Edeyrnion. The Dee is -still below us on the right, with thickly wooded hills beyond it; and -on the left are rocky heights, sometimes bare and sometimes softened by -trees. We have a lovely run before us down the valley, but if we are -prudent we will _drive slowly in the neighbourhood of Corwen_. - -But here, at the head of the valley, we are eight miles away from -Corwen, and have other things to think of--great things, indeed: -the last struggle for Welsh freedom, and the man who was the heart -and the head of it, that strange mixture of ruthless vengeance and -lovableness, Owen Glyndwr, who as a pattern squire, rather scholarly -and very hospitable, spent many quiet years, living sometimes here -at Glyndyfrdwy beside the Dee and sometimes at his other house at -Sycharth, and then suddenly, at the touch of injustice, unfurled the -red dragon of Uther and became the implacable devastator whose name -meets us in every ruin in Wales. Nothing remains now of his house, for -Prince Hal descended upon it one day, and, having left it level with -the ground, wrote to his “very dear and entirely beloved” Wardens of -the Marches to tell them all about it. After describing the burning of -Sycharth and of many houses round it he goes on: “Then we went straight -away to his other place of Glyndourdy, to seek for him there. There -we burnt a fine lodge in his park, and all the country round; and we -remained there all that night.” Above the spot where the fine lodge -stood is a curious tumulus crowned with firs, quite close to the road. -It is known as Owen’s Mount, not because he made it, for it is far -older than he, but because there is a story that he used it as a kind -of watch-tower. It was at Corwen, some say, that he first raised his -standard; but the other memories of him here are legendary and trivial. - -From Corwen to wild Cerrig-y-Druidion--the Rock of the Druids--the road -rises steadily, and leads to nothing of note but the lovely little Pass -of Glyndyffws, a deep and narrow defile of sudden unexpected beauty -that connects two tracts of rather dull country. Here, where the Ceirw -flings itself into the ravine from a great height and foams among the -rocks far below us, Telford has thoughtfully supplied us with several -little recesses in the wall from which to enjoy the view. I have heard -that he cut his name in the stone of one of them, but I have never -been able to find it. Perhaps it was to his name that George Borrow -objected when he came here and laughed at “Mr. T.” for being eager for -immortality. There was no need for Telford to be over-anxious about his -immortality; nor yet, indeed, was there any for Borrow to flout him -because he was not a Welsh bard! - -Tyn-y-nant, where “little Dick Vickers,” late of Shrewsbury Mail, -hanged himself rather exclusively, is a place of a dreary sort; and -so is Cerrig-y-Druidion; and so, most of all, is the straight road -from Cerrig to Cernioge, a piece of road that catches all the winds -of heaven, and always seems longer than it was last time. Open the -throttle here, and be thankful--if the weather be cold--that your good -engine is humming before you, and is making a better pace than the -eleven miles an hour of which the shivering travellers on this road -used to boast. Cernioge is to us merely an unkempt farmhouse, but to -them it meant a fire and hot drinks, for it was once a posting-house of -considerable renown. - -At Cernioge begins the descent into the valley of the Conway; and it is -here that we first see, stretched out before us like the Promised Land, -the distant grandeur of Snowdonia, the wild, impenetrable fortress of -the Welsh and the trap of the invading English. When Pentre Voelas is -passed the beauty grows and grows, mile by mile, and we are gently -gliding down into the very heart of it; wild crags to the right of us, -and before and below us a sea of woodland, valley beyond valley and -hill beyond hill. There is one turn of the road where nearly every car -draws up. The valley of the Conway lies at our feet, with here and -there the river shining through the trees; the Lledr Valley stretches -away and merges into the distant moors; Moel Siabod’s peak rises at -the end of it; and over Siabod’s shoulder appears, on a clear day, a -wedge-shaped corner of Snowdon, faintly blue. I have seen this view at -many times of the year, and the best time of all is May. - -For the woods that are at our feet, the woods that gave its name to -Bettws-y-Coed, the Chapel in the Wood, are at their best in May, when -every tree has its own individual shade of colour, the larch its tender -green, and the budding oak its pink and gold. But, indeed, Bettws is -always lovely. Nothing can spoil its innate simplicity; not even the -smart hats and parasols that look so incongruous in its little street -in July and August. It exists only for tourists; there are several good -hotels, and, roughly speaking, all the other houses are lodgings; yet -in spite of all, Bettws is a village still. Those who like to settle -down comfortably and motor round a centre, instead of touring from -place to place, will find this much the most central and convenient -spot from which to explore North Wales. And in any case, I think we -must stay here for a night or two. We must drive to Rhuddlan and -Conway and Dolwyddelan; we must stand on the Pont-y-Pair and watch the -tempestuous Llugwy; we must inspect David Cox’s famous signboard at the -Royal Oak; and in the evening, when the dusky yews are all in shadow, -we must sit in the churchyard beside the Conway, where the great artist -loved to paint. The church--the “Chapel in the Wood”--is uncouth and -bare, and not improved by modern windows; but it has stood here for -many centuries, and among its ugly pews we realise with a thrill that -the tomb at our feet holds the dust of a prince of Llewelyn’s house. - -[Illustration: THE OLD CHAPEL, BETTWS-Y-COED.] - -[Illustration: THE LLUGWY AT BETTWS-Y-COED.] - -This is the country of Llewelyn the Great. On one side of us is the -valley that tradition names as his birthplace; on the other the valley -where he was buried. His grave we cannot see, for his burial-place at -Aberconwy was desecrated when Edward I. built his great castle; but on -the way from Bettws to Rhuddlan we may pause at the church of Llanrwst -and see there, on the floor of Inigo Jones’s chapel of the Wynnes, the -coffin of stone that once held the bones of the greatest of the -Welsh princes. There are a good many interesting things here--things -much older than the church itself; but not the least pleasing, I think, -is the Latin epitaph that the former rector composed, with a pretty -wit, for his own tomb. It has been thus translated:-- - - “Once the undeserving schoolmaster, - Then the more undeserving lecturer, - Last of all the most undeserving rector of this parish. - Do not think, speak, or write anything evil of the dead.” - -If we are going to Rhuddlan it will not be necessary for us to cross -the shaking bridge, designed--perhaps--by Inigo Jones. I see no object -in a bridge shaking, myself, but there are always those at hand who for -a consideration will shake you the bridge if it gives you pleasure. -Our way, however, lies to the right, up a winding hill three miles in -length, with an average gradient of 1 in 12. It is a serious climb; -but the backward view of the mountain range beyond the Conway is -magnificent--a view of rather a rare quality, and not often seen by -those who depend upon horses’ legs or their own. The road that crosses -the top of the hills runs through scenery of rather a commonplace type; -then, as we drop down into Abergele the Morfa Rhuddlan lies before us -like a map--a dull map--with fashionable Rhyl in the distance; and from -Abergele to Rhuddlan the road is surely the straightest and flattest -that ever was seen. - -The ivy-smothered towers of Rhuddlan Castle stand on the banks of the -Clwyd. That great statesman and soldier, Edward I., being weary of the -“Welsh Question,” determined to get the affair finished once for all; -so he rebuilt this castle, settled down here with his Court and family, -conquered the country, made its laws, and saw that they were carried -out. There is a remnant still standing of the house where he held his -parliament and “secured its independence to the Principality of Wales.” -These words, though not Edward’s, are quite in the spirit of his little -jokes. It was here that he played his historical practical joke upon -the Welsh nation, when he promised them a prince who was a native of -Wales and could not speak a word of English--and then showed them the -baby. There is nothing for us to see inside this castle, for Cromwell -altogether dismantled it, and its heavy green towers, though impressive -enough as being the grave of Welsh independence, are not nearly so -typical of the “ruthless king” as his great fortresses of Carnarvon and -Harlech and Conway. - -Conway is only seventeen miles away, and we may see it on our return -journey to Bettws, by driving back to Abergele, where there is a nice -old posting-house, and thence passing on above Colwyn Bay. Five hundred -years ago another traveller came by this way from Conway: a poor, -duped, heart-sick king riding helplessly to imprisonment and mysterious -death. It was at Conway that Bolingbroke’s messenger Northumberland, -a man of a most treacherous heart, met Richard II. with solemn -vows of friendship; and along this coast that they rode together, -still smiling, the knave and the fool, to Rhuddlan and Flint, where -Bolingbroke’s army lay waiting on the sands o’ Dee. Those splendid -walls and towers of Conway that we see beyond the estuary, piled high -above the water-side, were Richard II.’s last refuge. From that day -forward every roof that sheltered him was a prison. - -All through the history of Wales this estuary has played an important -part. Long, long before Edward’s magnificent towers rose over the -desecrated burial-place of the great Llewelyn there was a castle -guarding the river-mouth at Deganwy. We can see its fragments still -if we choose to drive round that way before crossing to Conway; but -there is only a remnant left, a few stones on a hillside facing the -sea--stones that tell of Maelgwyn of the sixth century, and of Norman -Robert, lord of Rhuddlan, who rebuilt Maelgwyn’s fortress and met his -death there, and of King John of England, who was starved out by the -Welsh. Robert of Rhuddlan’s death was picturesque, and, I imagine, -well deserved. This was the manner of it. He was still employed in -rebuilding the Welsh castle of Deganwy for the harrying of the people -to whom it really belonged, when one day he fell asleep--a rash thing -to do in those days and in that place. Then came Griffith, Prince of -Gwynedd, with his ships, and stole all Robert’s cattle, and was just -setting sail again when Robert awoke and saw what was going forward. -Down this steep bank below the castle he dashed to the shore, and -fought desperately, with only one follower to support him; but soon -died, of course, by the spears of the Welsh. Griffith nailed his head -to the mast and sailed away; then, when the Normans chased him, flung -it into the sea before their eyes. - -As for King John, when he in his turn tried to strengthen the fortress -of Deganwy, he was glad enough to escape with his wicked head on his -shoulders. He had come into Wales “minded to destroy all that had life -within the country”; but he departed, we are told, in a great fury, -leaving a large proportion of his army behind him for Llewelyn to bury. -For the Welsh had cut off all the supplies of the English, “so that in -time they were glad to take up with horseflesh or anything, were it -never so mean, which might fill up their greedy and empty stomachs.” -So says Caradoc of Llancarvan. Other historians give us a letter -written on the spot by a certain knight, a man of parts, of whose life -and letters one would like to know more. He describes the royal army -as “watching, fasting, praying, and freezing. We watch,” he continues, -“for fear of the Welsh.... We fast for want of provisions.... We pray -that we may speedily return safe and scot-free home; and we freeze for -want of winter garments, having but a thin linen shirt to keep us from -the wind.” This vivid letter-writer goes on to tell us of the spoiling -of Aberconwy Abbey and the burning of all the valuable old Welsh -records there, and he shows a good deal of nice feeling in the matter. - -It was on the ruins of Aberconwy that Edward’s glorious castle rose -later on to overawe the Welsh. This Castle of Conway is the most -beautiful of all Henry de Elfreton’s works, I think; more beautiful in -itself even than Harlech; and we can well believe, as we drive across -the bridge and under the great machicolated town gate, that in early -days it could only be taken by the help of guile or famine. Glyndwr’s -men won their way in by disguising one of their number as a carpenter, -and to dislodge them Hotspur, finding his engines useless, was obliged -to starve them out. During the Civil War the castle was held for the -King by the Archbishop of York, an extremely “muscular Christian,” who -on being superseded in his command felt the slight so deeply that he -joined Mytton the Roundhead, and himself led the assault! And these -great walls, fifteen feet in thickness, yielded at last. As one climbs -the long flight of steps to the entrance with all these things in one’s -mind there is something almost overwhelming in the grandeur of these -strong towers. - -“A very neat castle,” says Camden. - -When we have had our luncheon at the Castle Hotel we must cross -the road to Plas Mawr, the town house of the Wynnes of Gwydir, who -entertained Queen Elizabeth there more than once, and even decorated -her rooms with appropriate symbols, royal arms, and monograms. The -plaster mouldings in this house are its special feature: fireplaces, -ceilings, walls, all are ornamented with them, and in each room the -design is different. One cannot, however, enjoy the mouldings and the -oak furniture and the priests’ hiding-hole and the lantern window with -an undivided mind, for the Plas Mawr ghost--unconventional soul!--walks -by daylight. - -[Illustration: CONWAY CASTLE.] - -[Illustration: THE PASS OF NANT FFRANCON.] - -We leave Conway by the road that follows the western bank of the river, -for by so doing we secure an impressive backward view of the old town -walls, which is ample compensation for the steep ascent that soon -carries us out of sight. Moreover this road, after a few more hills -and a few more miles of level going, with a view up the valley that -grows lovelier every moment, will lead us to Trefriew, a dear little -watering-place with a good hotel. The tiny church here has no outward -attractions; it has not even any appearance of age. Yet it has its own -romance; for it is said that when the English wife of Llewelyn the -Great--Joan, the daughter of King John--found the severe climb to the -old church of Llanrhychwyn too much for her, her thoughtful husband -built this one for her at the foot of the hill. Those who do not -share her feelings may still see, on the heights above the village, the -yet older church where Llewelyn worshipped before his wife objected -to the walk. And beyond it again, on the wild hill-top, is Llyn -Geirionydd, on whose shores lived Taliesin, the Bard of the Radiant -Brow, the most famous of all the Welsh bards. - -Between Trefriew and Bettws there are but a few miles of level road and -very lovely scenery. Gwydir Castle, the old house of the Wynnes, stands -between us and the river, and may be seen when Lord Carrington is away. -It is full, I believe, of carvings and tapestry and relics of history. -Queen Elizabeth stayed here, and Leicester, and Charles I. - -But here among these wild Welsh hills Elizabeth’s starched ruff and -Charles’s curls strike one as a little out of place. We may find -memories of Elizabeth--who seems to have slept in as many different -places as a motorist--in half the towns and big houses of England. This -is the country of the Kings of Gwynedd. - -We saw the Lledr Valley stretched out before us as we came down the -hill from Pentre Voelas to Bettws. But that bird’s-eye view of it -gives one no idea at all of its extreme beauty; of the towering height -of its steep slopes, now bare and rocky, now richly wooded: of its -brilliant colouring and deep purple shadows. At the head of it, where -its beauty is partly spoiled by quarries and all their works, is -Dolwyddelan village; and beyond that again, standing alone among the -desolate hills, is the stern tower where Llewelyn the Great, the “eagle -of men,” is believed to have been born. It is only a square tower now, -and though it once had two towers it was never a place of any size; -for Dolwyddelan and Dolbadarn, the two mountain strongholds of the -princes of Gwynedd, did not rely upon their own strength, but on the -great bewildering hills that defended them on every side. Thus it was -that this small fortress was the last to yield to Edward I. And while -remembering Llewelyn here do not let us forget to dedicate one sigh to -his poor father, Iorwerth Drwyndwn--of the broken nose--who, when that -unfortunate feature kept him from his princedom, was given this country -and its tower by way of compensation. - -It is the custom to return to Bettws from this point, for reasons that -a glance at the Contour Book may perhaps explain. But the fashion -has been set, I think, by bicyclists, whom one really cannot blame -for shirking the hill that rises between Dolwyddelan and Maentwrog. -Here let me assure motorists that there is little reason why they -should miss the wild beauty of the moors above this point; the rolling -expanse of brown and purple bogland, the endless succession of hills, -the grand outline of Moel Siabod. For though the road is certainly -steep the surface is excellent, except for a mile or so above Blaenau -Festiniog, that strange town on the mountain ledge that entirely owes -its existence to the neighbouring quarries, and yet is more than a -mile long and has three railway stations. There is no need to brave -the hill again to return to Bettws, for the road by Maentwrog, -Penrhyndeudraeth, and the Pass of Aberglaslyn is one of the loveliest -in Wales, and though we shall come down the Pass by and by there is -no hardship in going over the ground twice. It is worth remembering, -too, that at Maentwrog it is possible, if time allows, to cross the -valley and approach the famous toy railway-line at its prettiest point, -Tan-y-Bwlch, where a lake lies hidden among the woods, and where we may -have tea on the grass close beside the water, facing a scene of rich -colouring and deep, cool shadows. - -All this, however, is a digression. It is highly probable that the -great majority of motorists will look at the Contour Book and return -to Bettws from Dolwyddelan. They will have the advantage of seeing the -Lledr Valley from a new point of view. - -Now in the Snowdon country there are three great passes through the -mountains to the sea: the Passes of Nant Ffrancon, Llanberis, and -Nant Gwynant combined with Aberglaslyn. It is hard to say which is -the most beautiful of the three; and it is quite imperative, and also -quite easy, to see them all by pursuing rather a zigzag course. Nant -Ffrancon is the route of the Holyhead Road and the nearest to Bettws: -so we will go down by Nant Ffrancon, and come up again by Llanberis on -the same day; and on the next start off again by way of Nant Gwynant -and Aberglaslyn, passing through Bedd Gelert. - -The road climbs out of Bettws through a thick wood beside the rushing -Llugwy, and soon draws near the Swallow Falls.[7] This triple fall is -only a stone’s-throw from the road, and it is worth while to follow the -slippery path across the pine-needles, and stand for a moment in the -pricking spray watching the commotion. In the thick of the hubbub they -say the spirit of Sir John Wynne, which left this mortal coil early -in the seventeenth century, is being “purged, punished, and spouted -upon”; though I have never heard anything definite against him except -that he was “shrewd and successful.” He was a member of that Court of -the Marches of which we heard so much at Ludlow, and he left a very -valuable record of his family behind him. - -This bit of country between Bettws and Capel Curig is one of the gems -of North Wales. Moel Siabod towers above us; and beyond it soon appears -that cloud-capped peak whose name quickens every Welsh heart--the -rallying-point of heroes, the symbol and stronghold of the liberties of -Wales. The finest view of Snowdon is from Capel Curig, where the double -peak is reflected in the double lake. - -Our road, still climbing, turns to the right in Capel Curig and -takes us up into the heart of the hills, through a scene of splendid -desolation--bare heights, huge boulders tossed and heaped upon the -ground, jagged outlines, and dark sullen colours--a land that was -vastly disconcerting to those travellers of an earlier day whose -idea of beauty was “a smiling landscape.” As we reach the summit and -see the waters of Llyn Ogwen below us, sapphire-blue or lead-grey -according to circumstances, the great sides of Tryfaen and the Glydyrs -tower on the left. Beyond the lake Alla Wen rises steeply. “A horrid -spot of hills,” says a seventeenth-century writer. “The most dreadful -horse-path in Wales,” says Pennant; and that indeed it may well have -been before Telford came here to perform his miracles of engineering. -“The district through which the surveys were carried is mountainous,” -he says quietly; “and I found the existing roads very imperfect.” When -we have passed Llyn Ogwen, and the cottage where food is to be had if -necessary, and the sudden turning over the bridge, and are swinging -down the gentle slope of Nant Ffrancon high up on the mountain-side, -we must surely give nearly as much admiration to this road which -descends for ten miles with no steeper gradient than 1 in 15 as we give -to the wide Valley of the Beavers below us. Above us the mountain is -a mass of grey boulders, of scars and landslips; below us it sweeps -down precipitously to where the little Ogwen dances like a streak of -quicksilver. Presently we pass under the hideous excrescence of the -Penrhyn slate quarries, grey terraces of rubbish contrasting cruelly -with the glowing gorse of the opposite slopes; and then through the -equally hideous town of slate, Bethesda, the miners’ town, whose slate -walls, slate steps, and slate porches are enough, as Dr. Johnson, would -say, “to make a man hang himself.” Let us hurry on into the Cochwillan -Woods. - -Very soon after passing the modern towers of Penrhyn Castle we reach -the town of Bangor, “which for the beauty of its situation, was called -Ban-cor, the high or conspicuous choir.” It is not a very inviting -place, nevertheless, and there is no need to pause here, for even the -cathedral is not beautiful. It has had a great deal to bear; for it -was burnt by Harold the Saxon, and again by King John, and again by -Owen Glyndwr; and no doubt the castle built by Hugh, Earl of Chester, -suffered on one or all of these occasions, for Camden says, “though -he made diligent inquiry he could not discover the least footsteps” -of it. The original cathedral was founded by St. Deiniol in the sixth -century, and beneath it is buried the great Welsh prince Owen Gwynedd, -hero of many battles, who fought here on the heights above the straits -a fight so desperate that “the Menai could not ebb on account of the -torrent of blood which flowed into it.” Before we go on to Carnarvon we -must cross those straits, for the sake of the bridge, and of the view, -and of Beaumaris. - -It was in the year 1826 that the mail-coach, swaying under its burden -of excited officials, rolled slowly for the first time over the Menai -Bridge. It was a brave scene. Telford, in his modest way, had pleaded -against a formal procession, but he could not check personal enthusiasm -nor prevent the mustering of that long, long line of carriages and -horsemen and thousands on foot, which followed the Royal London and -Holyhead Mail, amid the fluttering of flags and the firing of guns, and -the roaring of a gale. Nor yet could he control the shouts that rose -above the wind when he himself passed by in an inconspicuous carriage. - -As soon as we reach the sacred shore of Mona, the last home of -the Druids, we turn sharply to the right; unless, indeed, we -have a mind to pursue the Holyhead road for a couple of miles, -for the pleasure of telling our friends that we have seen -Llanfairpwllgwyngyllgogerchwryndrobwllantysiliogogogoch. I once -heard a rumour that this place was to be connected by rail with -Pontrhydfendigaedmynachlogfawr, but as the scheme may come to nothing -perhaps it would be wiser not to mention it. - -From the shore road to Beaumaris we see the whole grand panorama of -the Gwynedd mountains, height beyond height and range beyond range, -from the pale distant peak of Snowdon to the dark shadows of steep -Penmaenmawr. It is a scene that has a quality of strangeness in it. -One looks at it from the outside, as it were; for Anglesey, which once -was green with the sacred groves of the Druids, is now, as it was -in the days of Giraldus Cambrensis, “an arid and stony land, rough -and unpleasant in its appearance.” One feels, on this flat shore, -worlds away from that beautiful country beyond the strait. On a day -of sunshine and cloud, when the mountains are glowing with every -imaginable colour and seem every moment to be changing their shapes -under the moving shadows, it is worth driving many a mile to sit on the -beach of Beaumaris. - -Behind us, close at hand, is Beaumaris Castle; opposite to us, across -the water, is “Aber of the white shells,” where Llewelyn the Great held -his Court, and where his English wife died; and a little further along -the Anglesey shore to our left is Llanfaes, where he buried her “with -dire lamentation and no little honour,” and built over her grave a -monastery that was altogether destroyed by Henry IV. Poor Joan’s coffin -must have been through many changes before the sad day when it occurred -to some thrifty farmer that the queer old stone trough would do finely -for his cattle to drink out of. It was fortunately discovered early in -the last century, and another watering-trough having been found for the -cows, it was placed in safety in the garden at Baron Hill. - -Beaumaris Castle does not make so brave a show as most of Edward’s -fortresses; but its ten low towers and its double line of defence were -no doubt formidable enough before their thick drapery of ivy gave them -so soft an air. The rusty iron rings that hang on the outer wall give -one of those little touches of the commonplace that bring the past so -near. Edward I. cut a canal and filled the moat of Beaumaris Castle -from the sea, and so the ships that brought supplies to the garrison -were moored and unladed at the very walls. - -The shores of the Menai have seen a vast amount of fighting of a very -desperate kind, from the days when the Druids stood at bay here to -the time when Edward I. bridged the strait with boats and was badly -beaten by the last Llewelyn. And as we re-cross the bridge and look -down at the ancient little church of Llandysilio so far below us, we -may remember another scene--peaceful in itself but not unconnected -with bloodshed--when on a hill near here, Archbishop Baldwin and that -delightful chronicler Giraldus induced many persons, by persuasive -discourses, to “take the cross.” - -[Illustration: THE MENAI BRIDGE, FROM ANGLESEY.] - -[Illustration: CARNARVON CASTLE.] - -From the other side of the Menai, on the Carnarvon road, the view is, -of course, comparatively tame; but we have only eight miles to travel -before reaching Carnarvon, and on a level road they are soon disposed -of. - -It is difficult to realise at the first moment that the well-preserved, -clean walls upon which one comes so suddenly in the middle of Carnarvon -were raised by Edward I.; though that king himself stands above the -gateway, with his hand on the sword that worked so hard. This is the -greatest of his castles; he chose it for the birthplace of his son, and -chose it too, apparently, to be the monument and symbol of himself. -Nothing could be a more fitting emblem of the unyielding strength of -the king who built castles in Wales almost as profusely as other men -build them in Spain. On this, the town side of it, one is more struck -with its strength than with its beauty. To see it at its best one must -cross the bridge, and from the other side of the river-mouth look at -the huge bulk of it; the long line of the curtain-wall reflected -in the water; the great octagonal towers, with their clusters of -slender turrets; the unutterable repellent air of it. There are no -windows in these cold walls; no ivy or very little, to soften their -austerity. Even from this side, though the water and the shipping -give it picturesque surroundings, I think Carnarvon Castle is not -beautiful so much as impressive. When Queen Eleanor entered it through -the gate still called the Queen’s she did not see it as it stands -now, for it was finished by her son, who was born in the castle soon -after her arrival. A little room in the Eagle Tower is shown as his -birthplace; but those who have read the local records declare it to be -proved beyond doubt that the tower was without a roof till the baby in -question, Edward II., put a roof on it himself. - -It is surprisingly well preserved. This, no doubt, is partly because -it has never been overcome by any more destructive agent than the -starvation of its garrison. Glyndwr besieged it on its landward side, -and his French allies attacked it from the sea; but they made little -impression upon it, and finally, since time was precious, they thought -it wiser to employ their engines elsewhere more profitably, though -the garrison within numbered only twenty-eight men, in sore want of -provisions. - -Between Carnarvon and the Pass of Llanberis lie ten miles of undulating -country. But the mountains are towering before us like an impassable -wall, growing ever higher and more formidable as we pass Llyn Padarn -and Llanberis town, whence the mountain-railway starts for the summit -of Snowdon. No doubt the northern shores of Llyn Padarn and of Llyn -Peris, which lies beyond it, were once beautiful; but they are now -merely a mass of unsightly débris, mountains of broken slate, terrace -above terrace of melancholy grey. The southern shore of Llyn Peris, -however, at the very foot of the Pass, has kept its own wild beauty, -and on a craggy little hill that rises at the lower end “there is yet -a pece of a toure,” as Leland says. A very notable piece of a tower -it is too; for Dolbadarn was the very centre and heart and ultimate -citadel of Welsh freedom from the earliest days. Here Llewelyn, the -third and last, kept his brother a prisoner for twenty-three years, -and here Owen Glyndwr hid himself whenever it suited him to elude the -English, who invariably lost their way among these mountains. It was -here, too, that Owen hid his chief enemy, Lord Grey of Ruthin, who had -embroiled him with the King of England and caused all the trouble. But -this little square grey “pece of a toure” is far older, they say, than -Owen or Llewelyn. It is supposed to have been built by Maelgwyn, the -same prince who built that first castle at Deganwy which was rebuilt -by Robert of Rhuddlan and King John at such large cost to themselves. -Maelgwyn, King of Gwynedd in the sixth century, is one of the forceful -characters who stand out here and there conspicuously in the rather -bewildering host of Cymric princes; a personable man, according to -all accounts, and one of great courage and success in battle, yet not -without leanings towards the monastic life. He actually became a monk -for a time; but no one can have been greatly surprised when he tired -of the constraint and took to soldiering again. On the whole I fear -he was a truculent creature, for Taliesin, “chief of the bards of the -West,” proclaimed, with the ambiguity common to prophets, that-- - - “A most strange creature should come from the sea-marsh of Rhianedd - As a punishment of iniquity on Maelgwn Gywnedd, - His hair, his teeth, and his eyes being as gold.” - -And Maelgwyn died of the yellow plague. - -[Illustration: DOLBADARN CASTLE.] - -[Illustration: SNOWDON, FROM CAPEL CURIG.] - -It is only a little way beyond this point that the actual Pass of -Llanberis begins to rise, cleaving its straight course between the -mountains to the very foot of Snowdon--“to the Welsh always the hill -of hills,” as Borrow says. The highest peak, Y Wyddfa, is not visible -from the Pass, but one sharp-edged shoulder in certain lights seems -to be within a stone’s-throw of the road. This is the steepest of the -three passes near Snowdon, and the one whose name is best known to the -world in general. As for beauty--the most beautiful of the three is the -one on whose royal blues and imperial purples one’s eyes are actually -feasting at the moment. But I would say this: to understand even the -elements of the beauty of these hills it is imperative to travel _up_ -each of the three passes, for as one climbs up into the heart of the -mountains the effect is in every case more beautiful than on the -downward journey. On a continuous tour this is of course impossible; -and that is one reason why the best way of seeing Snowdonia is to -stay for a few days at a centre, such as Bettws, or Capel Curig, or -Pen-y-Gwryd. - -At one or other of the two latter places it will probably be necessary -to spend a night after this run from Bettws to Bangor and Carnarvon. -Capel Curig has the finer view, and a hotel that has overlooked Llyn -Mymbyr and faced the peaks of Snowdon for many a year. I do not know if -it is the same that Sir Walter Scott stayed in and Lockhart described -as “a pretty little inn in a most picturesque situation certainly, and -as to the matter of toasted cheese, quite exquisite”; but it is without -doubt the same that seemed to George Borrow “a very magnificent -edifice.” He dined here, he tells us, “in a grand saloon amidst a great -deal of fashionable company,” who “surveyed him with looks of the most -supercilious disdain.” I strongly suspect that both the fashion and the -disdain existed only in a sensitive imagination. - -Pen-y-Gwryd is exactly at the junction of the Pass of Llanberis with -Nant Gwynant, the valley down which our future course lies; and here -too there is a comfortable inn, with memories of Charles Kingsley and -the author of “Tom Brown’s Schooldays.” From this point we can start -off in the morning without retracing a step. - -As one glides down the perfect gradient of this entrancing valley of -the Glaslyn, with the very blue waters of Llyn Gwynant glittering below -and the sides of Snowdon rising precipitously from the shore on the -right, and on the left the wild green slopes climbing up and up from -the roadside to the sky, one comes after all to a decision as to the -comparative beauty of these passes. Nant Gwynant is the best. The hill -is three miles and a half long, and in some places just steep enough -to force us to slacken speed and so make the most of our surroundings; -then a few miles of undulating road lead past Llyn Dinas and, still by -the side of the stony Glaslyn, into the village of Bedd Gelert, which -has won fame on false grounds as the burial-place of Llewelyn’s hound. -The rough, pathetic tomb, that stands in a meadow and is reached by a -path made by the feet of thousands of pilgrims, has a most plausible -appearance; but it was, I believe, raised by the forethought of a -hotel-keeper--a man who apparently knew his world. No bones of a -faithful dog lie here; but if we may not weep over the dust of Gelert -we may at all events mourn the loss of a beautiful, but dead, legend. -We drive through the village and enter, almost at once, the Pass of -Aberglaslyn. The steep part of the road is quite short; but this -strange cleft in the rock, this narrow ravine that holds only the river -and the road between its cliffs, forms an imposing southern gate to the -Snowdon mountains. We pass out of it almost suddenly into the wide, -level meadowland of the Traeth Mawr--and may the gorse be in its full -glory at the time! - -This plain that we are swinging across so happily, this plain of -green and gold, was a barren marsh, useless to man or beast, till -it was reclaimed in the early part of last century by a certain Mr. -Maddox, who gave his name to the two towns that own their existence -to him--Portmadoc and Tremadoc. At Tremadoc lived Percy and Harriet -Shelley for a little time, while they were still happy. The poet, with -characteristic enthusiasm, was fascinated by the great draining-scheme; -and in his leisure moments grounded poor Harriet in Latin. - -It is here or at Portmadoc that we turn to the right, if we are minded, -to explore the little-known peninsula of Lleyn. For some mysterious -reason the greater part of this promontory is seldom visited, though it -is not by any means without attractions. It cannot, of course, compare -in any respect with the dramatic grandeur of the Snowdon country; -there are large tracts that might even be called uninteresting; but -from the southern uplands the panorama of the mountains of Gwynedd is -really magnificent, and on the northern coast the fine outline of Yr -Eifl--ridiculously corrupted into the Rivals--rises very grandly from -the sea. And when the gorse is in blossom the whole country is veined -with gold, for here they make their hedges of gorse, and the air is -heavy with its poignant sweetness. - -As for the roads, they are mostly good. The roads from Pwllheli to -Nevin, to Yr Eifl and Clynnogfawr, and to Aberdaron are all excellent; -so also is the one that connects Nevin with Aberdaron; but the “Saints’ -Road to Bardsey” from Nevin to Llanaellraiarn should be avoided, since -the saints, apparently, employed indifferent engineers. - -To reach Pwllheli from Portmadoc we must past through Criccieth, one -of the most popular places on this coast, and one that must have been -really beautiful before its popularity spoilt it. It has a nice hotel, -and is, in any case, a far more attractive stopping-place than the -ambitious Pwllheli. The castle, not without dignity, stands aloof upon -its abrupt round promontory, facing the rows of modern lodging-house as -though they were some new kind of enemy drawn up against it. For that -Edwardian gateway has faced many enemies, and the castle still more. Of -its original founding I believe nothing is certainly known, but it is -older than its gateway, for Llewelyn the Great chose it for the prison -of his unruly son, Gryffydd, of whom it was said that “peace was not -to be looked for in his neighbourhood.” But, indeed, in those times a -strong prison seems to have been the only way of securing peace in any -one’s neighbourhood. - -Much the most picturesque person who has ever been connected with -Criccieth was Sir Howel y Fwyall, or _of the Axe_. So doughty were -his deeds at Poictiers that the Black Prince not only did him honour -in the usual ways, with money and knighthood, but gave orders that -the pole-axe with which he had done so valiantly should be set up in -this castle of Criccieth--of which Howel was Constable--and should be -served with a mess of meat daily. Eight yeoman were entrusted with this -service, and after the ceremony the meat was given to the poor. The -custom was kept up till the reign of Elizabeth. - -The name of Pwllheli is well known, if ill-pronounced, in the world of -tourists. It aspires to be a fashionable watering-place, and one feels -that success may possibly crown its endeavours, when one considers the -natural disadvantages of Rhyl and Borth and many another prosperous -spot. - -A few years ago we should have been obliged, having once passed -Criccieth, to spend the night at Pwllheli; but now we shall do well if -we rather choose Nevin for our stopping-place. A nice new hotel has -been built there--a hotel with no foolish pretensions, but evidently -with every intention of gradually becoming a thoroughly comfortable -abiding-place for golfers who like quietness. The little town lies -close under the shelter of the hills, and between it and the sea is -the flat land of the Morfa Nevin, where Edward I. gathered all the -chivalry of England and many a foreign noble to celebrate his conquest -of Wales in a great tournament. - -Nevin is threatened with the railway, which, if it actually approaches -the place, will certainly spoil it; but it will be long, I imagine, -before any intrusion of that kind disturbs the peace or injures the -beauty of little Aberdaron. It is an elect spot, this End of the World -in Wales; more remote, less visited than St. David’s, and infinitely -less famous; yet once trodden, like St. David’s, by the weary feet of -countless pilgrims. For just beyond that low headland on our right is -sacred Bardsey, the Island of the Saints, where lies the dust of twenty -thousand holy men. St. Mary’s Abbey, of which some fragments still are -left, was founded in such early days that Dubritius, who crowned King -Arthur and then resigned the See of Caerleon to St. David, came to end -his day in this remote monastery; and so holy was the soil at last -that every monk in Wales crossed this dangerous channel to kneel upon -it. It was here, from these wide, white sands of Aberdaron, that they -embarked, half trembling, half inspired--white-robed Cistercians and -sombre Benedictines--and here, in this little church between the hills -and the sea, that they spent the night on their knees before braving -dangers that were not by any means imaginary. The building has been -re-roofed and much restored, but these are the very walls within which -the pilgrims prayed, the very walls that once gave sanctuary to any -man, innocent or guilty, who sought their shelter. The blind wall on -the north bears witness to the early British origin of the church. - -And we must not forget, as we stand thinking of the pilgrim monks on -the shore, that this sheltered, isolated corner, hidden closely by the -hills on the one side and protected by the long headlands on the other, -was once visited by secular history. Into this bay sailed Hotspur’s -father, the base Northumberland, from France, and from Harlech came -Owen Glyndwr and Edmund Mortimer; and here in the house of the lord -of Aberdaron they swore to be thenceforward “bound by the bond of a -true league and true friendship and sure and good union,” and to act -in all ways as became “good true and faithful friends to good true and -faithful friends.” - -The fascinations of the Bay of Aberdaron, however, must not blind us -to the fact that the finest scenery in the Peninsula, of Lleyn, is in -the north. From Pwllheli we should drive across to Llanaellraiarn under -the great brow of Yr Eifl, and then, turning to the right, follow the -road between the wild, craggy hills and the sea to Clynnogfawr. Here -lived and died the great St. Beuno, and the church that bears his name -is of a size and importance quite unusual in so tiny a place: “almost -as bigge as St. Davides,” says Leland. This large church only dates -from the fifteenth century, but the little chapel where St. Beuno is -buried is connected with it by a covered way, and was founded by the -saint himself in the seventh century. His tomb was still to be seen -in Pennant’s day, and had the gift of working miracles, but now both -monument and miracles are no more. In the larger church is carefully -preserved a strange old chest that is said to have belonged to St. -Beuno. - -To reach the Traeth Mawr from Clynnog our best way is to go on to -Pont-y-Croes, then strike across to Pen-y-Groes, and thence descend -to Tremadoc. There is not much to be said in favour of this road’s -surface, but the beauty of it increases every moment, and for the -last few miles, as we drop gently down on to that plain of gorse that -lies like a sheet of flame between two ranges of purple mountains, we -have as fine a sight above, below, and before us as any we shall find -in Wales. A few minutes later we are in Portmadoc, and from the long -embankment there look up the valley of the Glaslyn across the Traeth -Mawr to that gate of Gwynedd through which we came a little while ago. - -Presently we cross the estuary of the river Dwryd by a toll-bridge. -I think this river-bank must be the scene of a touching incident -described by Giraldus. He and his Archbishop, recruiting for the -Crusades, were met “at the passage of a bridge” between the Traeth -Mawr and Llanbedr near Harlech by Meredyth ap Conan, a prince of this -country. He brought with him a large suite, and then and there by the -river-side the Archbishop preached to them, and “many persons were -signed with the Cross.” Among these ardent souls was a personal friend -of the young prince. Meredyth, seated higher on the bank than his -suite, looked on while the symbolic cross was sewn upon the cloaks of -the new crusaders, till it came to the turn of his own friend. Then -Meredyth, says Giraldus, “observing that the cloak on which the cross -was to be sewn was of too thin and too common a texture, with a flood -of tears threw him down his own.” - -From the banks of the Dwryd a very level road soon brings us within -sight of Harlech. It is a very distant glimpse of it that we have -first; an irregular outline, a grey mass of towers standing out against -the sky, raised grandly upon a rock above a plain that is nearly as -flat as the sea beyond it. Then trees hide it, and we climb through the -woods to the level of the great gate before which so many armies have -stood before us--armies of Owen and of Henry, of Edward IV., and of -Oliver. - -[Illustration: NEAR BEDD GELERT.] - -[Illustration: GATEWAY OF HARLECH CASTLE.] - -Long, long before Henry de Elfreton, king of architects, built this -grand fortress at Edward’s command, a royal castle stood upon this -rock. So, at least, says one of the “Mabinogion,” and here, under the -spell of the land that created those old romances, I would fain believe -that Branwen, the daughter of Llyr, lived at Harlech with her royal -brother Bendigeid Vran, and that Matholwch, King of Ireland, came -across the sea to woo her, with thirteen ships flying beautiful flags -of satin. At the wedding, unfortunately, there was trouble between -the two kings; but after a certain amount of friction the banquet was -“carried on with joyousness,” and the happy pair journeyed towards -Ireland with their thirteen ships. In Ireland Branwen “passed her -time pleasantly, enjoying honour and friendship,” which she owed to -the fact--we are given to understand--that she presented each of her -visitors with a clasp, or a ring, or a royal jewel, “such as it was -honourable to be seen departing with.”[8] By and by mischief was -made between Matholwch and his wife, and she was sent to the kitchen -to cook for the Court, which seems a drastic way of treating a Queen -Consort. Then came Bendigeid Vran, her brother, to avenge her, with the -hosts of seven score countries and four, and there was war between the -two islands because of her. And only seven men of the Welsh escaped, -and in Ireland none were left alive except five women. And Branwen went -with the seven men of Wales to Mona, and she “looked towards Ireland -and towards the Island of the Mighty, to see if she could descry them. -‘Alas!’ said she, ‘woe is me that I was ever born; two islands have -been destroyed because of me!’ Then she uttered a loud groan and there -broke her heart. And they made her a four-sided grave, and buried her -upon the banks of the Alaw.” And her name still lives upon this rock of -Harlech in Branwen’s Tower. - -Bendigeid Vran, the son of Llyr, was not the last Welsh prince who held -his Court here within sight of Snowdon. For Glyndwr made his way in -between those great towers after a long siege, during which Henry’s -garrison, who were at last reduced to sixteen, locked up their governor -because they did not trust his constancy. Glyndwr brought his family -here, and held a parliament, and gathered a little Court round him; -but after another long siege he lost more than the castle, for his -son-in-law Mortimer was killed, and his wife and grandchildren were -taken prisoners to London. But it was that later siege by Edward IV.’s -army that was the most fierce of all. It was then that the March of the -Men of Harlech first stirred the sea-breeze and the hearts of men; and -it was then that the blood of six thousand men flowed here where we are -standing before the gates. Still later on Harlech held very obstinately -for Charles I. - -At Harlech we look our last on Snowdon, for the road, high above the -sea, soon turns a corner, then dips to the shore at Llanbedr. At this -pretty village those who are prepared to face a road that finally -becomes little more than a track, and are, moreover, tolerably -good walkers, may leave the high-road and drive up into a very wild -and beautiful bit of country to Cwm Bychan. I freely admit that the -enterprise is more suitable for bicycles than for motors, and I further -confess that I have never undertaken it in a car myself; but I should -be extremely happy to make the attempt on the first fine day. For Llyn -Cwm Bychan is a lovely lake lying among moors and steep, rocky hills; -it has the wildness of a loch in Galloway. And the only way out of this -hollow in the hills, except the track by which we enter it, is a mighty -staircase of stone slabs set regularly in the hillside--a staircase a -mile in length, which has withstood time and weather since the feet of -the Romans passed this way. - -Even the best-advertised car could hardly climb the Roman Steps; so we -must rejoin the coast road at Llanbedr and go on our way to Barmouth. -There was once a time very long ago, it is said, when all the bay that -lies upon our right was a fertile plain, the Plain of Gwaelod, with -cities and fortresses thick upon the ground, and a great and busy -population, and a king called Gwyddno Longshanks. And because the land -lay so low and the sea so close at hand a mighty embankment of stone -was built along the shore, and all went well for many a year. But there -came a time when the chief overseer of this great dyke was Seithenyn ap -Seithyn Saidi, and he, unfortunately, has been known ever since as one -of the “three immortal drunkards of the Isle of Britain.” It is easy -to imagine the result: the decay of the dyke, and the terrible night -when the waters swept all before them and drowned the whole Cantref of -Gwaelod. The point of Mochras near Llanbedr was at one extremity of the -drowned cantref; and still, when the tide is low, you may sometimes -see the long line of the broken dyke. As late as the year 1824 there -was a stone in existence which had been found below the sea a hundred -yards beyond the shore, and bore an inscription meaning, “Here lies the -boatman to King Gwynddo.”[9] I do not know if the stone still exists, -but as it was used as a footbridge it probably does not. At the -beginning of the nineteenth century this seems, in Wales, to have been -considered the best way of using up old monuments. It was certainly the -quickest. - -Eight miles from Llanbedr is Barmouth. The town itself is becoming -every year more entirely a prey to the family group. Every year there -are more hotels, more bathing-boxes, more wooden spades. But I doubt -if anywhere in England or Wales a town is built in a more beautiful -spot. You cannot drive across the long bridge that spans the estuary -at its mouth, but you will be a thousandfold repaid if you leave your -car and cross the bridge on foot, for the best view--I think I am not -too rash in saying the best view in Wales--is from about the middle of -the bridge. The Mawddach winds away between two ranges of mountains, on -whose grand slopes the brilliant greens and purples, the rich browns -and far-away faint blues change every moment under the varying sky. -Cader Idris rises on the right in gloomy dignity from the soft drapery -of foliage that is flung about his feet. And in the foreground, when -the tide is low--and that, I maintain, is the loveliest time--the blue -sea is riven with the rosy gold of wet sands, dotted with countless -sea-gulls. - -A great deal of this we can see as we drive up the estuary on its -northern bank to Dolgelley, by an excellent road that clings close -under the hills. Every moment the scene changes, and all the changes -are good; whether we look across at Cader’s grand shoulder against the -sky, or up the valley at the winding water and the distant hills, or -overhead on our left at the mountain-sides that rise so steeply from -the very road, or even when, the trees hemming us in for a moment, -we see only glimpses through them of purple rock or shining river. -At Llanelltyd the Mawddach meets the Wnion, and our way lies to the -right over the bridge. As we cross the bridge the ruins of Cymmer -Abbey lie upon our left on the river-bank--a Cistercian abbey, as we -may easily guess, since we know the pretty taste in scenery possessed -by that sagacious Order. If the truth were known, I fear we might -find that their motive in choosing, as they always did, the loneliest -and loveliest spots in the country, was one of self-denial, for the -mountainous solitude that we love was in their day regarded with little -less than terror. This particular abbey was founded in the last years -of the twelfth century, and it was patronised by Llewelyn the Great. -Behind it, about two miles away, are the slopes of Nannau, where Owen -Glyndwr once went for a walk with his cousin and came back without him. - -Owen, as I have already said, was a man of swift and extremely complete -vengeance, and treachery made his gorge rise. His cousin, Howel Sele, -the lord of Nannau, lived on that hill at the foot of Moel Offrwm, -and had little sympathy--so far and so safe was he from the Marcher -Lords--with Owen’s overbearing ways. Their relations had been strained, -therefore; but when Howel asked his kinsman to visit him at Nannau Owen -consented without hesitation--yet not without a coat of mail beneath -his outer garment. As they walked in the park with a few retainers -they saw a buck at some distance among the trees, and Owen, anxious to -please, suggested that Howel should show his well-known prowess with -the bow. Howel raised his bow, took aim, paused a moment; then suddenly -turned upon his traitor’s heel and shot the arrow straight at the heart -of his kinsman. One can picture Owen’s smile as the arrow rang upon the -coat of mail that he wore unseen. - -Howel went home no more. What dreadful fate befel him no one knows for -certain; for probably all his own retainers were killed and Owen’s were -too busy to talk. But long afterwards a skeleton was found in a hollow -tree quite near the spot where the famous bowman had drawn his bow for -the last time. The house of Nannau was burnt to ashes. - -Before we cross the bridge to Dolgelley I should like to call attention -to a very beautiful drive over the hills between this spot and -Maentwrog. Beautiful as it is, it must on no account be substituted -for the route by Harlech and the Barmouth Estuary, by those who are -travelling in this neighbourhood for the first time; but those who know -the estuary well, or those who are staying at Dolgelley and wish for a -circular drive, could not do better than go up the Vale of Ganllwyd and -over the hills to Trawsfynydd and Maentwrog, lunch at the Tan-y-Bwlch -hotel, and return by Harlech. - -For the first few miles the road rises through lovely woods; the -tempestuous Mawddach shines behind the trees, and beyond it, bounding -the narrow valley, are steep and craggy slopes. At Tyn-y-Groes is -a charming little hotel, much frequented by fishermen, with a fine -view of the Mawddach and the peak of Moel Offrwm; a delightful place -to spend a week in summer, since it is within a drive of many of the -loveliest parts of Wales, and has itself an outlook of very striking -beauty. - -Beyond Tyn-y-Groes the scenery grows wilder and the hills more bare; -the road rises rather steeply and the surface is not all that could -be wished. Presently we pass a turning on the left that would lead -us, if we followed it, to the top of that strange colossal flight -of steps whose lower end we saw at Cwm Bychan, the way by which the -Romans climbed this mountain-side; and soon, as we reach the summit of -the hill, the many peaks of the Snowdon range come into sight. After -this, as is only to be expected, the view is continuously fine till we -drop into Maentwrog on a precipitous gradient, and find ourselves in a -valley famed for its beauty. - -But we must return to Dolgelley. - -“Dolgethle,” says Leland, who favoured phonetic spelling, “is the -best village in this commote.” There is not much, if any, of Leland’s -Dolgelley left, I imagine; but within the memory of this generation -there was still standing a battered little cottage, built half of -irregular stone-work and half of timber and plaster, that Leland may -well have seen, though very likely it did not interest him nearly as -much as it would interest us. It has been replaced by an ironmonger’s -shop, and we now supply ourselves with petrol on the spot where -“Owen, by the Grace of God Prince of Wales,” held his council, and -drew up the instrument that allied him formally with the French. It -was now some little time since Henry IV.’s council had written to him -scornfully that the power of the rebels was not so great as it was -heretofore reported, and that the people of Wales were but of little -reputation; for which reason it seemed good to Henry, he said, “not -to go thither in person, but by one of our Lords to do punishment on -our said rebels.” Henry had said that just three years ago, yet the -rebels were still unpunished. The chief rebel, indeed, was now become -“our illustrious and most dread Lord, Owen, Prince of Wales,” signing -alliances with his royal hand and seal, and receiving a gilded helmet -as a gift from the King of France. - -At Dolgelley we turn eastwards and make our way back to the English -border. As a matter of fact we have not actually reached the limits -of North Wales, which is divided from South Wales by the river Dyfi, -or Dovey. But for our present purpose it will be more convenient to -consider a strip of the North--overlapping our present route--together -with a strip of the South, as Mid-Wales, and to return to the border by -the laborious but beautiful pass that rises between Dolgelley and Dinas -Mawddy. - -We have six miles of climbing before us, close under the heights of -Cader Idris, through one of the wildest tracts of country in wild -Wales, where the road at last rises steeply between rough stone -walls across a desolate moor, and a mountain stream dashes below us -on the right, and in all probability a flock of little Welsh sheep -makes excitedly for the nearest gap. For the Welsh sheep, unlike the -sheep of England, has somewhere in its round, woolly head a glimmer -of intelligence, and instead of rushing madly past every turning and -every gap, knows where it wants to go and goes there with all possible -despatch. - -At a point six miles above Dolgelley we reach the summit of this -precipitous pass, the Bwlch Oerdrws, and the valley lies below us like -a gulf. It is a fine scene and a very wild one--wild even when the sun -is shining, but still wilder when the great bare hills are looming -through driving clouds of rain, and wildest and most beautiful of all -when the April snow is glistening upon the April gorse. - -The steepest part of the descent, the average gradient of which is -between 1 in 7 and 1 in 8, is about two miles long. For the rest of -the journey, through Dinas Mawddy and Mallwyd, and up the long climb -to Cann Office, and so by Llanfair Caereinion to Welshpool, there is -nothing to pause for, except tea at Cann Office. This mysterious name, -oddly enough, does not appear on Bartholomew’s map where the place it -denotes is called Llangadfan. The little inn there is very popular -with fishermen, who seem to have a wonderful knack of securing homely -comfort. - -Between Cann Office and Welshpool the scenery gradually becomes more -English in character, for Welshpool, though not actually on the border, -is very near it. “The grounde about the bankes and valley of Severn -there is most pleasunt,” says Leland; and “most pleasant,” I think, -describes this country perfectly. I cannot do better than end in his -words. “And wille I passid this way within a iii miles of Walsch Pole -I saw a veri notable hille beyound the valley on the lift hond having -iii toppes as iii heddes rising owt of one body.... Communely thei be -caullid Brethin Hilles. Not far from thes hilles enterith Shropshir.” - -[Illustration: THE MAWDDACH, FROM TYN-Y-GROES HOTEL.] - -[Illustration: LLANIDLOES.] - - - - -THROUGH THE HEART OF WALES - - -One may enter Mid-Wales by the Severn Valley, or by Knighton and the -Teme. The probability is that one’s action in this matter is entirely -regulated by circumstances, but if haply it were possible to be guided -simply by charm the road across the wild hills would be the road to -choose. For wide moorlands, whatever the season, whatever the weather, -never fail to be attractive; whereas the valley of the Upper Severn -is extremely variable in its appearance. Indeed, I have seen it -look almost uninteresting: though in the spring, when on every hill -the fruit blossom is mingled with the piercing green of the budding -larches, I know no place where the youth of the year has a more -engaging air. - -In any case, we must pass through Newtown. Despite its name, despite -its modern appearance, the newness of this town is only comparative; -for its prosperity waxed, I believe, as that of Caersws waned; -and Caersws, a little higher up the valley, was at its zenith in -the days of the Romans. We pass it by and by on our right: a mere -village now, of no particular attractions on the surface, though no -doubt a sufficiently interesting past is buried beneath its soil, -for hypocausts have been found here and tesselated pavement, and -coins bearing the magic name of Marcus Aurelius and other names less -honoured. Less authentic, but more moving, are the associations of the -broad meadow on our left, the traditional scene of Sabrina’s flight -from-- - - “the mad pursuit - Of her enragéd stepdame Guendolen,” - -and therefore connected for ever with Milton’s exquisite lyric, -“Sabrina fair.” This is the “glassy, cool, translucent wave” beneath -which the goddess sits; this is “the rushy-fringéd bank” from -which--they say--she still sometimes rises at twilight; and here are -the cowslips on which she sets “her printless feet” so lightly that -they “bend not as she treads.” - -Between Llandinam and Llanidloes the scene begins to grow wilder; -abrupt hills bare, or patched with gorse, rise from the roadside on our -left; we are drawing nearer to the slopes of Plynlimmon. At Llanidloes -there is a picturesque old market-place, and the church, founded in the -seventh century, has some interesting and beautiful fragments from the -Abbey of Cwm Hir; a row of fine Early English arches and some quaint -figures on the beams that support the roof. - -At Llanidloes we leave the banks of the Severn, and, climbing all the -way, pass through a prettily wooded gorge into the valley of another -famous river--the river that is more renowned for beauty than any other -in England--the Wye. But here at Llangurig the Wye has few charms, for -we are at the foot of bleak Plynlimmon, and the river flows through -a somewhat dull country that is neither fertile nor wild. Llangurig -itself is a desolate, chilly little place, but it has a nice inn; and -I believe the fishing is good. About eight miles beyond it we leave -the Wye, now a mere mountain stream, at a point that is only four -miles from its source, and after this the scenery grows more and more -austere, as we skirt the bare sides of Plynlimmon. - -Upon those wind-swept slopes the red dragon of Wales was once unfurled; -for here Owen Glyndwr, with only five hundred men, was surprised and -surrounded by fifteen hundred of the Flemings of Pembrokeshire. He cut -his way through them, and left two hundred of them behind him, and left -behind him, too, an unshakable belief that he was a wizard indeed. - -These heights are not without grandeur. At one point, indeed, there -is a very striking and unusual view, where the road is high upon the -hillside, and the river, very far below, twists and curls away into -the distance through a narrow but extremely level plain. The surface -of this main road to Aberystwith is above reproach, but after we turn -off to the left on the road to the Devil’s Bridge it is not so good and -there are some rather steep hills. - -“If pleasant recollections,” says George Borrow, “do not haunt you -through life of the noble falls, and the beautiful wooded dingles to -the west of the Bridge of the Evil One, and awful and mysterious ones -of the monks’ boiling cauldron, the long, savage, shadowy cleft, and -the grey, crumbling, spectral bridge, I say boldly that you must be a -very unpoetical person indeed.” - -The falls, and the wooded dingles, and the monks’ boiling cauldron -are still beautiful enough to rouse any poetical feelings that we may -possess; but the bridge, alas! is neither crumbling, nor spectral, -nor in the least poetical. Three bridges now span the rushing waters -of the Mynach, built closely one above the other. The lowest of all, -dapper and shining with the cement of the restorer, is the original -bridge built by the monks of Strata Florida in the eleventh century and -ascribed to the Devil, not from any uncomplimentary feeling towards -the monks, but merely because the bridging of the Mynach was no easy -matter and demanded a simple explanation. The bridge above this is the -one that Borrow calls modern, though it was built in 1735, and now -looks older than the first; the topmost and newest of all is quite a -recent achievement, and might well appropriate the name of the original -structure, since it entirely destroys all the picturesqueness of the -scene. No doubt, however, its existence is necessary, for this is the -only way across the gorge: and these beautiful wooded hills and deep -valleys, with the two tempestuous streams, the Rheiddol and the Mynach, -are by no means dependent for their charm on the famous bridge. - -The road from this spot to Aberystwith is of a most striking and -uncommon character. It is raised high on one side of the bare hill, and -overlooks a deep valley, through which the Rheiddol twists and curves. -The great hills beyond the valley are richly green in summer, but in -the spring are chiefly reddish brown, with streaks of the vivid larch, -and here and there a shining patch of gorse. A run of twelve miles, -mostly downhill, brings us to Aberystwith. - -At the first glance, seen from a distance, it is not unpicturesque. -It lies at the end of a valley, with the sea beyond it, and in the -heart of it the castle tower stands up conspicuously to remind one -that Aberystwith was once something more interesting than a popular -watering-place. For once all the resources of England were combined -in an attack upon this castle. Guns came from Yorkshire, and timber -from the Forest of Dean; huge supplies of arms and various murderous -concoctions were sent from Hereford, and a shipload of carpenters -landed in the bay to turn the timber into machines of war. There was -not a young spark in the country, apparently, but thought it incumbent -on him as a man of fashion to join Prince Hal outside the walls of -Aberystwith. - -Yet the end of all this effort and display was merely comic. Glyndwr’s -garrison at last, half starving, agreed to yield the castle upon a -certain day unless Owen meanwhile relieved it. The Prince, too hasty, -as he sometimes was, went off to London joyfully and received the -thanks of Parliament for having secured Aberystwith--at the very -moment, had he but known it, when Owen and a relieving force were -quietly entering the besieged castle! - -This was but one of many sieges suffered by Aberystwith, which was -always regarded as a place of much importance; so much so, indeed, that -Strongbow’s castle on this spot had been battered into uselessness -before the days of Edward I., who had to build another. Prince Henry -and Oliver have left little enough of that. What there is of it--some -round towers and a piece of the curtain-wall--is more tidy than -romantic. To tell the truth, Aberystwith is not a romantic place. - -It has been my happy fortune to read some manuscript letters written by -a lady from Mid-Wales towards the end of the eighteenth century. This -is what she says of Aberystwith-- - -“I have inquired about Aberystwith, where the Sea is very rough, and -no Apothecary near, and most ignorant people in regard to illness, -which they are so happy to know nothing of, as the Sea is their ownly -Physition.” - -This might be useful as a house-agent’s advertisement, if the next -sentence were suppressed. - -“I think the Sea fogs very unwholesom, but dare not say so, as they are -for ever talking about the purity of their air.” - -The sea is no longer the only physician at Aberystwith; but the purity -of the air is still a topic of conversation. - -One of its advantages is that it is only fifteen miles from Ystradfflur -or Strata Florida; and though this does not lie upon our route, so -short a run is but a slight tribute to pay to a place of such great -memories. The drive, moreover, will itself repay us. The road follows -the Ystwith most of the way, and crosses it at Trawscoed, where -splendid beeches overhang the river and masses of rhododendrons line -the banks. There is one formidable hill, with a gradient of 1 in 8, -from the top of which there is a fine view of winding river and wooded -hills. Soon after leaving the Ystwith we join the Teify near its -source. - -In the Abbey itself there is little to see, but very much to remember. -It was founded in the twelfth century by some Cistercian monks on -land given by a Norman; but its foundation is often ascribed to that -great prince of South Wales, the Lord Rhys, who was one of its chief -benefactors. Once it was the grandest house of worship in all Wales, -the burial-place of her southern princes, the depository of her -archives; but there is little left to show its past greatness but the -unique west doorway and the remains of six side chapels--roofed now -with corrugated iron! Behind the south transept is a wedge-shaped strip -of ground that was the monks’ cemetery, where, under a stone carved -plainly with a cross, lies Cadell, the brother of the Lord Rhys. The -large cemetery that holds the dust of eleven Welsh princes is between -the Abbey and the river. “The cœmiteri wherin the cunteri about doth -buri is veri large,” says Leland, “and meanely waullid with stoone. -In it be xxxix great hue trees.” There were originally forty of these -yew-trees, and now there are but two or three, so it is hardly likely -that one of the survivors should be the tree underneath which Dafydd -ap Gwilym, the greatest of Welsh poets, was buried; the tree of which -Gruffydd Gryg, his rival, wrote-- - - “May lightnings never lay thee low - Nor archer cut from thee his bow.” - -Mr. Baring-Gould tells us how these two bards were constantly in a -state of feud and bitter rivalry, till an ingenious friend put an -end to their quarrels by simply telling each of them that the other -was dead, and was to be buried at Strata Florida on such-and-such a -day--mentioning the same day in both cases. Each of the poets, in the -glow of generosity consequent on the death of a hated rival, composed a -beautiful ode in praise of his enemy, and proceeded to the churchyard -to read it beside the grave. There, of course, they met; and each, -determined to read his ode at any cost, forthwith read it to the hero -of it, and buried his enmity instead of his enemy. - -It was somewhere within that “meanely waullid” cemetery that this -quaint scene took place; and it was somewhere within these precincts -that a thousand frightened children crowded together long ago, waiting -to be carried away from their parents and homes in Cardiganshire to -the exile in England to which Henry IV. had doomed them. That is an -ill-omened name in Ystradfflur--the name of Henry Bolingbroke--for in -his fury at the rebellion of Glyndwr he fell upon this sacred place and -ruined it, and drove out its monks, and stabled his horses at its High -Altar. - -To reach Machynlleth, which is our object, we must return to -Aberystwith--but we may do this by a slightly different road, diverging -at Trawscoed. The surface is better than that of the other, and the -road is wider, but there is one bad hill, with a nominal gradient of -1 in 7. As we approach Aberystwith we see, beyond the river, a little -place called Llanbadarn Fawr. Here, in very early times, long before -the great days of Ystradfflur, there was a famous monastery, founded -by St. Padarn, a contemporary of St. David. Like St. David’s own -monastery, it was laid waste by the Danes. - -[Illustration: ARCHWAY AT STRATA FLORIDA.] - -[Illustration: NEAR GLANDOVEY.] - -Passing through Aberystwith we climb out of it on the further side by -a long hill. Except the wide view from this hill there is nothing of -special attraction in any way till we have passed Tal-y-bont. Then -suddenly there comes into sight the headland beyond the Dyfi (Dovey). -Far away on the left is the sea, and between us and it lies a wide and -absolutely level plain, with Borth showing darkly on the shore. Soon -we pass Tre-Taliesin, named from the great bard of Arthur’s day, whose -grave is said by some to lie on this hillside to the right, and by -others to be beside the waters of Geirionydd. Beyond this village we -climb through lovely woods of birch and larch, and then we run down, -leaving the trees behind us, into the beautiful estuary of the Dyfi. A -wide sea of gorse is at out feet; the river winds through the shallows -beyond; and, bounding the valley and the view, rises the mighty wall of -North Wales. - -This is on the left--a wide and splendid landscape; and meanwhile on -the right are wild hills rising from the road, cleft here and there by -narrow wooded gorges or tumbling mountain streams. At Ysgubor-y-coed -the water dashes down between sharp rocks, and makes a lovely picture -with the great mill-wheel and mossy-tiled building that stand beside -it; and just beyond Glan Dovey station we catch a momentary glimpse of -the steep sides of the beautiful Llyfnant Valley. Thence four level -miles bring us to Machynlleth. - -There is a charm about Machynlleth. Its wide central street is planted -with trees. In most Welsh towns, History, though she has lived in them -so long, has rather an uneasy air: tales of valour, or of treachery on -a large scale, blend rather incongruously with prim grey houses and -slate roofs. But in Machynlleth we are quite prepared to learn that -these quaint and quiet streets--and some of the houses, even--are bound -up very closely with the picturesque life of the last of the Welsh -princes: so closely indeed, that Owen Glyndwr’s royal seal figures -in the arms of the town. In those low, whitewashed cottages he held -his first parliament; and in that little corner-house in the next -street he rested the uneasy head that wore a crown for such a brief -and troublous time. It is the oldest house in Wales, they say, but -much renovation and a new chimney have destroyed any picturesqueness -it ever had; and it is now neither as venerable nor as interesting in -appearance as the Old Mayor’s House, a timber-and-plaster building at -one end of the main street, with gables leaning in all directions. -Neither do the whitewashed Houses of Parliament show any signs of their -distinguished past--yet here Glyndwr accepted his crown and very nearly -lost his life. For among the members of this his first parliament was -one who was his enemy, and the sworn man of the House of Lancaster. -Davy Gam, “the Crooked,” a little red-haired, squinting man who, -whatever he was, was no coward, came to this house with the intention -of killing Glyndwr, but being betrayed, was thrown into prison for -ten years, while his house near Brecon was burnt to ashes. Owen, with -unusual forbearance, spared his life, perhaps in acknowledgment of -the man’s courage in coming among his enemies single-handed. He showed -his courage more honourably at Agincourt. “There are enough to kill,” -he said of the French just before the battle, “enough to be taken -prisoners, and enough to run away.” He died on that field, and was -knighted by Henry V. as he lay dying. “He lived like a wolf and died -like a lion,” it has been said of him. - -Now, on leaving Machynlleth, supposing it to be our intention to go -on to Dolgelley and so to Bala, we have a choice of roads. All the -ways are so beautiful, however, that we can hardly go wrong; but those -who fix upon the shortest way, by Corris, should know that they will -find it well worth while to run down the estuary to Aberdovey and back -again. For this estuary of the Dyfi is second only to that of the -Mawddach in beauty. - -Its best time, certainly, is in the summer, for the hills are thickly -wooded; but at all seasons there is a lovely view at every turn of -the road. One of those that haunt the memory is from the point where -the road to Aberdovey, after passing through Pennal, comes again -within sight of the river. In the foreground is a wide expanse of rich -colouring, of red and brown, green and gold and russet; beyond it -shines a thin line of silver; and beyond that again rise the hills of -South Wales--not so imposing by any means as that massive bulwark of -mountains that we saw from the other side and are now close under, but -yet very beautiful in colour and bold in outline. As the estuary widens -a succession of headlands stretch out before us, one beyond another, -and round these the road curves, sometimes very sharply. At the extreme -mouth of the estuary lies Aberdovey, in the shelter of the hills. - -The same eighteenth-century lady whom I quoted before describes a visit -to “Aberdove Seaport,” as she calls it. “Down we set at the window,” -she says, “... to see the Sea hempty it self in to a Beautifull -serpentine river, at the beginning of which lay ten ships at harbour.” -One cannot marvel that any one should sit down at a window to watch -so strange a phenomenon as the sea emptying itself into a river. -Unfortunately this interesting sight cannot now be promised to visitors -at Aberdovey; but the “beginning” of the river still owes much of its -picturesque effect to the little quays that jut out into the stream, -and the ships of considerable size that lie “at harbour.” The best -hotel, and it is an extremely nice one, is a short distance beyond -the little town, and is perched on the hillside above the golf-links, -facing the sea. - -It was somewhere in this estuary, probably on the shore of the Traeth -Maelgwyn, that a strange scene took place between thirteen and fourteen -hundred years ago. Maelgwyn, that King of Gwynedd whose name recurs so -often in the history of North Wales, that gigantic man of fitful valour -and still more fitful piety, determined to unite all the strength of -the west under one ruler, the better to oppose the conquering Saxons. -It was agreed that all the princes and knights who had any pretensions -should meet together in the estuary of the Dyfi, the dividing-line -between North and South Wales; that they should there seat themselves -on chairs upon the shore, and he who contrived to keep his seat the -longest should be the king. Then Maelgwyn, having settled these -preliminaries, had a wonderful chair made for himself of the wings of -birds, waxed. As the tide rose the seats of the other princes were -overturned, but Maelgwyn’s chair floated on the surface of the sea. So -Maelgwyn became chief of all the princes of the west. - -From Aberdovey, as I said before, we may, if we choose, drive straight -on round the coast by Towyn and Fairbourne, and up the southern side of -the Barmouth estuary to Dolgelley. Or we may turn eastward at Towyn, -and reach Dolgelley by way of Tal-y-llyn. Or, thirdly, we may return to -Machynlleth and drive thence to Dolgelley by Corris. - -No motorist should really rest satisfied till he has driven on all -these roads, so beautiful are the three. Towyn, I believe, has charms -for many, but on the surface it is singularly unattractive. It has a -very ancient church, however, built in the twelfth century by Gruffyd -ap Cynan, of whom it was said that he built so many that his country -“glittered with whitewashed churches as the heavens are bright with -stars.” Near it are some extremely interesting old memorial stones; but -here, to all appearance, the interest of Towyn begins and ends. Beyond -it there are some fine views of the hills as the road turns inland; and -again when it turns to the coast and, high on the side of the cliff, -curves round into the Barmouth estuary, the effect is really fine. It -must have been of this part of the road that a traveller once wrote: -“We ascended a precipice, frightful beyond description, on one side of -us was the highest ragget Rock I have seen, the stones to appearance -lose, and look as if just droping on your heads, some of which have -fell a few years ago. The Precipice down to the Mean (Main) Ocean not -less than thirty yards, and us travlers not a yard from the side of -it, where the waves dash and tide rores, till it made me tremble.” -Grand as these “ragget” cliffs are, however, the most beautiful part -of this drive is in the Barmouth estuary, under the shadow of Cader -Idris. But to many travellers in Wales this valley of the Mawddach -is thoroughly familiar, and to them I heartily recommend the road by -Corris. - -[Illustration: THE MAYOR’S HOUSE, MACHYNLLETH.] - -[Illustration: THE RIVER DULAS.] - -From Aberdovey one drives back to a point in the Dyfi Valley almost -opposite to Machynlleth. The river Dulas, near the point where it joins -the Dyfi, is spanned by a fine old bridge, whose arches have resounded -to the tramp of Henry Tudor’s followers, as he and they marched -eastwards to fight for the crown; and to the tramp of Cromwell’s men as -they marched westwards to fight, if not for the crown, for everything -that goes with it. It is at this point that we turn sharply to the -left and follow the course of the Dulas. This opening of the valley of -Corris is very lovely, for the river, which has all the impetuosity of -a mountain stream, is overhung by splendid trees, and through their -stems in the spring we may see the further bank, steep and mossy, -and thickly jewelled with primroses. The whole of this narrow and -wild valley, indeed, is full of beauty. The road rises gradually to a -considerable height; then beyond Upper Corris, where the landscape is -defaced, as so often in Wales, by enormous banks of slate, it drops -down by some very steep gradients, amid fine mountain scenery, to the -level of Tal-y-llyn. - -It is only the eastern extremity of the lake that we see, and this -we leave behind us, turning at this point sharply to the right into -a defile of extreme barrenness. This narrow gorge, with its towering -sides reft and lacerated by landslips, its huge boulders poised as -though about to fall, its grey slopes softened only here and there -by patches of short grass, is the most utterly, the most desolately -savage spot I have seen in Wales. As we leave it and emerge into more -open country, we realise that those wild slopes were the foot of Cader -Idris, for looking back we see the heavy grey shoulder of the mountain. -Soon we reach Cross Foxes, and thence run down through beautiful woods -on a delightful gradient to Dolgelley, with the purple hills of the -Mawddach estuary showing in a long line above and behind the vivid -green of the trees. - -[Illustration: THE PASS OF CORRIS, NEAR TAL-Y-LLYN.] - -[Illustration: BALA LAKE.] - -In Dolgelley, as we saw before, all the historical interest is -concentrated on a lamp-shop. There is nothing to keep us there, unless -we wish for a meal, or perchance a bed, at the “Golden Lion,” or unless -we mean to use the place, as many do, as a centre for expeditions. But -at present our concern is to turn towards the English frontier, and to -reach it through Bala and Llanrhaiadr. - -For ten miles after we leave Dolgelley the road ascends, persistently -but never steeply. The backward views of mountain, wood, and stream -are unfailingly lovely on this road, as on all others that converge at -Dolgelley; and no less attractive in its own way is the wilder scenery -at the top of this hill, which is practically a pass. From the summit -we descend to the shores of Bala Lake, and after driving for three -miles close beside its waters we reach the little town. - -It is not an especially attractive place. The neighbourhood of the lake -is of course pleasant, but the hotel--which, by the way, like many -Welsh inns, contains some lovely old furniture--looks out over the -street. The scenery of the lake is pretty rather than grand. - -Bala must have been more interesting, I think, in Pennant’s day. It -must certainly have presented an appearance all its own; for he assures -us that the entire population--men, women, and children--spent all -their time in knitting stockings. They knitted in their doorways, they -knitted as they walked about the streets, and on fine days they sat -together on the tumulus at the end of the town, and knitted there. On -Saturdays the fruit of all this industry was sold, to the value of four -or five hundred pounds, in a special stocking-market. This must have -been a sight worth seeing. - -We may still see the Tomen-y-Bala, the tumulus where the knitters -used to sit and sun themselves, and where, very long ago, a little -castle stood. The mound has been made very neat, with gravel paths and -rhododendrons; and by paying a small sum we may climb to its modest -summit and give a thought to the Romans who made the tumulus, and -the Britons who made the castle, and the past generations who made -stockings. - -Leaving Bala, we may follow the Dee to Corwen, and there join the great -London and Holyhead road; and this is by far the simplest route we can -choose. - -The route we should certainly _not_ choose is the so-called road from -Bala to Lake Vyrnwy, the reservoir of Liverpool. The scenery round -this lake is very beautiful, it is true, and an excellent hotel stands -high on the hillside above the water; and since there is no railway -among these wild hills, this is one of the places that show the uses -of the motor-car most strikingly. But Vyrnwy should be approached from -Shropshire, by way of Llanfyllin. The road that connects it with Bala -is a narrow, precipitous pass, cut on the side of a slope that is at -some points almost a precipice, unprotected by any kind of fence, -sloping downwards on the outer side, and crossed at short intervals by -natural water-channels. It is a discouraging picture, and the reality -is, to put it mildly, uncomfortable. - -As an alternative to the Corwen road we may cross the Holy Dee at the -very spot where the “wizard stream,” as Milton calls it--that stream -that had the gift of prophesying good or evil fortune to the cause -of Wales--flows from the parent waters of Llyn Tegid or Bala Lake, -and following a mountain road of many “dangerous” hills, visit the -waterfall at Llanrhaiadr before we pass into Shropshire. - -The fall is at a lonely spot about four miles beyond the village of -Llanrhaiadr, which is itself a pretty place with a nice inn. The road -that leads to Pistyll-y-Rhaiadr is little more than a lane, but one may -drive up almost to the very foot of the fall. “Prodigious high,” says -the letter-writer I have so often quoted: “and seemingly the hend of -the world.” There is really some excuse for this dramatic statement. -An abrupt mass of rock rises before us impassably. On each side of it -are pine-woods, climbing the craggy slopes. There is an air of finality -about the place: it is “seemingly the hend of the world.” - - - - -A TOUR IN SOUTH WALES - - -For those whose affections are at all equally divided between natural -beauty and historical interest the map of South Wales presents a -dilemma. The imperative thing is to avoid the once beautiful hills -and valleys that are now scarred, and rent, and blackened with -coal-dust; and this may be done by taking either the moorland road -above the mining country, or the level road below it near the sea. Now -I, who know both these roads, assure you that in adopting either of -these courses you will miss much. For if you choose the lower road, -tempted by its excellence, you will miss some of the finest scenery in -South Wales, which, though not to be compared with the North, is yet -beautiful; and if you choose the upper one you will miss the romance -of Beaupré, and the very ancient memories of Llantwit Major, and you -will, moreover, miss a good many miles of as fine a road as ever made -an engine purr. There is only one way out of this dilemma, namely, to -follow a zigzag course, from the sea to the hills, from the hills to -the sea, and so enjoy the best of both roads. - -To avoid the mines we must aim very low; at Cardiff or Caerphilly. -And if we are approaching the Border from Monmouth or Hereford, or -the Midlands, we shall probably, just before we reach the spreading -outskirts of Newport, pass through a village with a great name. A dull, -sleepy-looking village it is, standing in a commonplace landscape -beside a very dirty stream, a place entirely without superficial -attractions. But it is a name to conjure with. Caerleon-upon-Usk, the -City of Legions! Once it “abounded in wealth above all other cities, -... and passing fair was the magnificence of the kingly palaces -thereof.” The gilded roofs of the Romans glittered here beside the Usk, -and the great amphitheatre that may still be traced once echoed to the -shouts of the second legion: towers and temples, baths and aqueducts -and splendid buildings stood where now a few poor houses keep alive -the name of Caerleon. Round its shining palaces grew up a world of -legend. We know all about the fine doings at Arthur’s coronation -here: how he and Guinevere were crowned in different churches, and -how the music in both was “so transporting” that the congregations -ran to and fro between one church and the other all day; and how a -banquet of great splendour followed, with Caius, the server, dressed -in ermine, and Bedver, the butler, waiting with all kinds of cups, and -hosts of noblemen handing the dishes; and how, after the feast, the -soldiers got up a sham fight to amuse the ladies, who sat on the town -walls and “darted amorous glances in a sportive manner.” And in the -“Mabinogion” we are given a more domestic picture of King Arthur at -Caerleon-upon-Usk: a picture of him in his palace dozing upon a seat -of green rushes covered with flame-coloured satin, with a red satin -cushion under his elbow, while Guinevere and her handmaidens sit at -their needlework by the window, and a group of knights are drinking -mead from a golden goblet. And at Caerleon, too, it was that Maxen -Wledig, the truant Emperor of Rome, built one of three great castles -for Helen, his wife. He had seen her first in a dream, and sought her -by land and sea, and having found her he forgot his Empire and lived in -Britain seven years. So they made them a new Emperor in Rome. - -“And this one wrote a letter of threat to Maxen. There was nought in -the letter but only this, ‘If thou comest, and if thou ever comest to -Rome.’ And even unto Caerleon came this letter to Maxen, and these -tidings. Then sent he a letter to the man who styled himself Emperor in -Rome. There was nought in that letter also but only this, ‘If I come to -Rome, and if I come.’” - -So, through the Middle Ages, the memory of the great days of Caerleon -was preserved in legend. - -Long before we have finished dreaming of King Arthur and his red satin -cushion the tram-lines of Newport force themselves upon our attention. -Newport was so called, I believe, because it superseded Caerleon, the -old port, of which Leland says: “Very great shyppes might wel cum now -to the town, as they did in the Romaynes tyme, but that Newport Bridge -is a lette.” - -Before leaving Newport any one who is likely to be hungry soon will -do well to secure a meal, for though Cardiff is not far away the -ruins of Caerphilly take some time to see, and the little town cannot -be depended upon for food. And we must on no account miss seeing -Caerphilly; for this vast ruin covers more ground than any other in -this island, and, moreover, has the special distinction of being a -characteristically Edwardian castle of a date earlier than Edward’s. It -was chiefly the work of Gilbert de Clare, the Red Earl of Gloucester, -whose architect, unlike that great artist, Henry de Elfreton, thought -little of beauty when he designed these mighty walls, but altogether -of strength. “Waules of a wonderful thickness,” says Leland; and of a -wonderful thickness they are, and of a wonderful tenacity too, seeing -that one of the great bastions that were mined with gunpowder in the -Civil War was only half ruined, and the other half has been leaning -at a most surprising angle ever since. The history of the ruins is not -at all in proportion to their size; and, indeed, it is possible that -their size and strength may have acted as a deterrent to the makers of -history. There is a story that Edward II. took refuge here with the -Despensers; but even these unyielding walls failed to give any real -sense of security to that poor spirit and at the first word of his -enemies’ approach he hurried away, preferring to trust to disguise. -He chose the inappropriate _rôle_ of a farm labourer--this indolent, -boudoir-King, who had never done a day’s work in his life--and he -failed signally to please his master, who was as anxious to be rid of -him as his subjects were. It was soon after this that he was captured -and led away to the horrors of Berkeley Castle. - -On the direct route from Caerphilly to Cardiff there rises such a -precipitous hill that the longer way by Nantgarw is really the best; -and unless Cardiff has some special attraction for us there is no -need to thread our way through its modern streets and its maze of -tram-lines. For the Cardiff of the Romans, and of the Welsh princes of -Morganwg, and of the Norman barons, is altogether overpowered by the -Cardiff of commerce; and though there is a fragment left of the castle -that has sheltered so many crowned heads at various times, the castle -in which poor blind Robert of Normandy was a prisoner for twenty-eight -years, yet even this is modernised and closed to the public. - -But in Llandaff, which is now practically a suburb of Cardiff, there -are still signs of age: a picturesque green and restored cross, -some pretty old houses, and the cathedral of the most ancient see -in the island. For even when St. Teilo of the sixth century laid -the foundation of the first cathedral the bishopric of Llandaff had -been in existence for more than five hundred years. By the eleventh -century Teilo’s cathedral was past repair; and when the “business -of the Cross was publicly proclaimed” here it was in a new building -that the Archbishop celebrated mass--the same building, more or -less, that stands down there in that curious hollow to-day. More or -less: for the restorations of this greatly chastened cathedral have -been many, and it has narrowly escaped suffering even more terrible -things at the hands of its well-wishers. Jasper Tudor’s beautiful -and uncommon west tower, for instance, was once threatened by an -eighteenth-century bishop, a versatile soul who wrote a successful -“Treatise on the Modes.” He was evidently more capable of dealing with -the modes than with ecclesiastical architecture, for we hear that he -was seized with a longing to remove Jasper’s tower and replace it with -a rustic porch.[10] For once the poverty of the see was a fortunate -circumstance, and saved the tower. But no doubt that same poverty -injured the building greatly on many occasions; for at one time the see -was so cruelly robbed by the Crown that its brave and humorous bishop -had himself presented to Henry VIII. as the Bishop of Aff. “I was the -Bishop of Llandaff,” he explained, “but lately the _land_ has been -removed.”[11] - -[Illustration: CAERPHILLY CASTLE.] - -[Illustration: BEAUPRÉ CASTLE.] - -The tombs of Llandaff Cathedral are of great interest; and it is -with real pleasure that one sees the new, for once, not unworthy to be -beside the old. The recumbent figure of marble on the grave of Dean -Vaughan is really beautiful. - -As we climb the long hill a mile or two beyond Llandaff, we see Cardiff -stretched out below us, a forest of masts and tall chimneys--an -impressive symbol in its way. Then, when we reach the level ground, -we forget everything for a time but the sheer delight of moving on -a perfect road--forget even the heights of Exmoor showing faintly -across the water on the left, and on the right the wild hills of -Glamorganshire rolling away into the distance. - -Now, at Cowbridge, it is necessary to come to a decision. If it should -be too much for the resolution of an ardent motorist to leave this -road, he may pursue his way to Neath without “lette,” as Leland would -say; but for all antiquarians, artists, and other lovers of romance and -beauty, the finger-post points very resolutely to a detour by Beaupré, -Llantwit, St. Donat’s, and Ewenny. - -About two miles south of Cowbridge is Old Beaupré (Bewper). Do not -climb the stile and walk across the fields, but drive on a hundred -yards or so to the gate; for this grass-grown, deserted avenue is the -fitting approach to the spellbound house of the Bassetts, that strange -mixture of splendour and squalor, with its delicate carvings and dainty -Corinthian pillars and its air of utter desolation. We know very well -as we look at it that fair faces once looked down through those Tudor -windows, and gay satins swept between the classic columns of the -doorway, and the walls echoed to music and singing and laughter, until -the fatal day that an enchantment was laid upon the beautiful white -doorway of the love-lorn Welshman who learnt his art in Italy, and upon -the avenue that once led the Bassetts out to war and home to love, and -upon every stone of the old castle, so that it became a farmhouse. -And now the fluted pillars and carved friezes are green with moss and -fringed with ferns, and the walls echo to nothing but the clucking of -innumerable hens. - -Beaupré is not greatly visited. There is, indeed, nothing to see but -that strange, incongruous doorway and the ghosts that flutter round -it; but it is one of those eloquent, unforgettable places through -which, for a moment, one seems to be actually in touch with the life -that they have seen. - -At Llantwit Major the interest is of a very different kind. Here there -is not very much to attract the artist, but to the antiquary and -historian “the dwelling-place and home of the Blessed Illtyd” must -surely be of the first importance. For it was here that the Breton -saint, St. Iltutus, or Illtyd, founded a monastery and university that -made a very deep mark upon the life of the sixth century; for its -professors educated not only all the princes of the west, but also -every illustrious Welshman--bishop, saint, or scholar--of the day. It -is not surprising that an institution of its size and brilliancy--for -its 2,400 students filled four hundred houses--should have seized the -imagination of early writers, and given rise to so much picturesque -legend that it is hard to know the truth. Some say that St. David -himself was taught by St. Illtyd, and that Gildas the historian, -called the Wise, and Taliesin, the bard of the Radiant Brow, were -also brought up here. Of Illtyd himself the tale is told that he was -originally a soldier, but hearing the call, he forsook his profession -and his wife for the life of a hermit; and when his poor wife came -to him, one day as he was working in the fields, he silently turned -away from her, and stood so, with his back to her, till she left him -in despair. This is a pathetic foundation for all the scholarship and -saintliness of the sixth century in Wales, and one can only hope, for -the sake of Illtyd’s conscience when he was a comfortable professor, -that it is untrue. Of all the four hundred houses and seven halls of -his university not a stone is now left; but in the church, which is -itself very full of interest, there are some wonderful monuments, one -of them being a memorial raised to St. Illtyd by one of his pupils, -Samson, a saint himself. The head of the cross is gone, but on the -shaft the beautiful Celtic designs are still clear and the words still -legible to those who can read them--“Samson placed this cross for his -soul.” - -Just beyond Llantwit and nearer to the Bristol Channel is St. Donat’s, -which, as Leland says, “stondith on a meane hille a quarter of a mile -from the Severn Se.” This castle, partly Norman and partly Tudor, has -been inhabited ever since the Norman conquest of Glamorgan; and so, as -“the parkes booth and the castell long to ... a gentilman of very fair -landes in that countery,” we can see no more than a glimpse of towers -above the trees. But we pass close to the churchyard, and there we may -see the very beautiful and uninjured Celtic cross. - -From St. Donat’s we may rejoin the main road at Bridgend; but in this -country, where good accommodation is not always to be found, it is -well to know that there is a very nice modern hotel at Southerndown, -with the Channel and the Exmoor coast in front of it and the trees -and Castle of Dunraven near at hand. The actual building of Dunraven -is new, but a castle has stood on the same spot for many generations, -through many tragedies. In Henry VIII.’s reign the lord of Dunraven, -Boteler, or Butler, lost all his children but one on the same day. He -saw them die, perhaps, for the windows of his castle looked out across -the waters that drowned them. Only one girl was left, and through her -Dunraven passed to the Vaughans, who do not always seem to have made -a good use of its position. For in Tenby Church lies the dust of a -certain Walter of that house, who figures darkly in one of those moral -tales--one might almost call them tracts--of which one occasionally -hears in actual life. In Walter’s day, which was also the day of Queen -Mary, these shores of Dunraven twinkled with treacherous lights, which -lured unwary ships to the shore, causing their complete destruction and -the great enrichment of the lord of the manor. At last, after years of -this villainy, he was waiting one night for the fruits of his labours, -waiting while the doomed ship was shaken to pieces and the bodies of -her crew were one by one washed ashore. The last body that came was -that of his own sailor-son. - -Whether we approach Bridgend from Llantwit or from Southerndown, we -shall see on our right the embattled tower of Ewenny among the trees. -The restored conventual buildings of this very ancient Benedictine -Priory are now a private house, but by leaving the high-road we may -pass the fortified gateway that once stood between the monks and their -enemies. There is no finer example, I believe, of a monastery that is -also a castle, and no doubt it is partly owing to the strength of its -defences that the Priory of Ewenny still stands in its original Norman -austerity, not as a picturesque ruin, but as a parish church. With the -exception of one or two Tudor windows, it is pure Norman throughout, -very simple, very dignified; and it is still divided, according to -ancient custom, into two separate churches that were used respectively -by the monastery and the parish at large. The founder, whose beautiful -tomb is wonderfully well preserved, was Maurice de Londres, whose name -we shall meet again in a less amiable connection at Kidwelly. A great -deal has been done in the way of restoring and preserving Ewenny by -its owners, the ancient lords of Coity, whose great castle lies in -ruins a few miles away. The Norman marchers of their house, it is said, -set out to win the lands of Coity by force of arms, but seeing the -fair daughter of the Welshman who owned them, he was himself won, and -never a blow was struck, for Coity became his by marriage. How much of -this story is true I do not know, but it is certainly true that his -descendants have lived within a few miles of the spot from that day to -this. - -At Bridgend we rejoin the road that we left so reluctantly at -Cowbridge, and soon, on the right, we pass the hills of Margam, at -whose foot are the fragments of a famous Cistercian abbey, more -celebrated, we are told, for its charitable deeds than any of that -Order in Wales; while on the left there stretch between us and the -sea the dreary sands that long ago buried--“shokid and devourid”--the -castle and lands of Kenfig. The hills, cleft here and there with deep -wooded valleys, are every moment drawing nearer; a strip of glittering -sea appears beyond the sands, and beyond that again are the Mumbles. -For a little time the masts of Aberavon rise picturesquely on the -skyline, but they are too soon replaced by the chimneys of Briton -Ferry. - -[Illustration: EWENNY PRIORY.] - -[Illustration: NEATH ABBEY.] - -It was here that the travellers of old days used to ford the river -Neath. It was a dangerous ford, famous for its quicksands. Wherefore -a certain twelfth-century bishop of St. David’s, being of a prudent -temperament and desirous to cross, selected one of his minor clergy to -ford the river before him, a “chaplain of those parts,” who had lately -incurred the bishop’s displeasure, and had been suspended. The chaplain -meekly consented; took the bishop’s best horse for the purpose; crossed -in safety, and forthwith rode away. And it was only when the bishop -restored the cure that the chaplain restored the horse. - -This pleasant little story, recalled by the name of the ugly smoky town -of Briton Ferry, will help us through the dismal streets that lead to -Neath. - -Neath itself is not an attractive town. Its abbey to Leland “semid the -fairest abbay in al Wales.” To-day it is perhaps the most pathetic. -During its last and most splendid days a Welsh bard sang of it and -of the monks who lived in it; sang of its towers and cloisters, and -coloured windows and princely shields; of its columns of blue marble -and of the painted archangels on its roof. It was just at this time -that it seemed to Leland so fair, that is to say just before Leland’s -employer, Henry VIII., silenced the “peaceful songs of praise” of its -white monks for ever. Even now we can guess at its past splendour, for -though the blue marble and the archangels are gone, the crypt still has -its vaulted roof, and through the heavy ivy there are fragments visible -of the gleaming white stone with which it was once faced. It stands, -unspeakably desolate, on the low, squalid outskirts of the town, amid a -waste of scrap-iron and nettles and rubbish; but when Edward II. came -to beg for a night’s lodging under its roof, when Neath was little more -than a village and a castle, and there were no shunting, shrieking -trains between the abbey and the hills, this must indeed have seemed a -beautiful refuge for a tired, hunted king. - -For close behind the abbey the hills begin to rise, and through them -the river Neath cleaves its way to the sea in a valley that will lead -us, if we follow it, to extremely desirable things. Ultimately the road -will lead us to Brecon, by no means to be despised in itself, but it -is rather for the sake of the miles of moorland that lie between that -we must here strike up into the hills in a way that may seem eccentric -till we know what they are like. - -The Vale of Neath itself is famous for its lovely scenery, its woods -and mountains and river. The road is practically level as far as -Glyn-Neath, where, if the day is young, and the mood enterprising, we -may, instead of keeping to our rightful road, diverge for a mile or -so to Pont Neath Fechan. Thence the active-minded and able-bodied may -visit a series of very pretty waterfalls on the river Mellte. This -entails a considerable walk of a rough kind, but it also gives one an -excuse for exploring a little more of this lovely moorland country: for -the best way to approach the falls is to drive up for two miles into -the hills and so reach the river from above. - -But probably the most usual course is, at Glyn-Neath, to turn -towards Hirwain. It is after this point that the really distinctive -features of this run become apparent, the features that make the road -essentially one for motorists; for no railway crosses these hills, -and if there be strong-limbed bicyclists who do, they cannot often -be women, I think. For the road that seems to the engine of a car to -be merely gently undulating, is really climbing steadily upwards for -miles. Gradually the scene becomes wilder and wilder, more and more -desolate, till at last we are spinning over a moor as wide as the eye -can see, on a road that winds visibly before us far away into the -distance. Range beyond range, the hills completely encircle us: stern, -bare hills with rugged outlines, and never a tree to soften them; and -in the foreground great sweeping curves covered with short grass and -here and there a glowing patch of heather. Then, when the summit is -reached, and Cardiff waterworks are passed, begins the descent of nine -miles on a perfect surface, close under the shoulder of the Brecon -Beacons. I think this gentle descent is one of the most perfect runs, -from a motoring point of view, that I have ever enjoyed; and if, as is -likely, there is a touch of evening softness over the great hills, few -people will regret having forsaken their direct westward road for the -sake of this drive. Close under the Beacons lies Brecon. - -A prodigious amount of fighting has raged round this peaceful-looking -little town. It was not without bloodshed that Brychan the Irishman, -in the fifth century, made this country his own with complete -thoroughness, supplying it not only with a new name but with a new -population (for he is said to have had forty-nine children); and Brecon -was one of the many places that were attacked and overcome by the -army of Alfred’s warlike daughter Ethelfleda; and truly there was no -lack of fighting in the days of the Normans, the Neuf-Marché, and the -de Braose. It was Bernard de Neuf-Marché, or Newmarch, who built the -castle, once “very large, strong, and wele mainteynid,” but now only a -remnant, a bit of battlemented wall and a tower, which passed through -many stormy experiences before it came to the strangest end to which, -surely, a castle was ever brought. For it was the inhabitants of Brecon -themselves who, feeling that they had figured sufficiently in the -annals of their country, demolished their own castle. It was during the -Civil War, and a siege seemed imminent. The simplest way of avoiding -this was to remove the castle. - -Brecon might well be tired of fighting. Newmarch had fortified it -well, with walls and gates and the “keepe of the castel very large and -faire,” but it required all its defences and more, for a border castle -was never safe. From the family of Newmarch it passed to that of de -Braose, and they lost it again, not by the sword but by the seditious -spirit and shrewd tongue of a woman. Matilda de St. Valerie, the wife -of William de Braose, “uttered reproachful language against King John,” -which though perfectly just, was rash. She lost not only her castle, -but her husband and finally her life, for Brecon became Crown property; -de Braose, after slaughtering the King’s garrison, fled to Ireland; -and Matilda was starved to death in prison. - -[Illustration: BRECON.] - -[Illustration: GATEWAY KIDWELLY CASTLE.] - -If we spend a night in Brecon we may sit in the pretty garden of -the hotel under the shadow of the last remaining wall of Newmarch’s -castle. Opposite us, filling almost the whole landscape, are the solemn -Beacons; just below us is the Usk and its picturesque bridge. - -We must cross that bridge to reach Carmarthen; and following the -course of the Usk, pass through Trecastle, where the scenery becomes -strikingly beautiful as the road cleaves a narrow gorge and then runs -gently down for miles between wooded hills. At Llandovery we enter the -valley of the Towy. - -There is nothing to detain us at Llandovery; but as the gay flowers of -the Castle Inn catch our eye in passing we may remember that George -Borrow once spent a night there; and the remains of the castle hard by -may perhaps call to mind the great chieftain Griffith ap Nicholas, who -was lord of Dynevor and Kilgerran as well as of Llandovery and many -another castle. He was also a Justice of the Peace, and a harbourer of -thieves; a _protégé_ of the House of Lancaster who yet died in fighting -for the house of York at Mortimer’s Cross: not a very conventional -person, in short. - -We leave the fragments of his castle on our left, and, on a practically -level road, follow the slow-flowing Towy through Llangadoch to -Llandeilo. This pretty little place, where there is a really nice inn, -was once dignified with the name of Llandeilo Vawr, or the Great; -probably because of its close proximity to the great castle of Dynevor. -If we pause for a moment on the bridge that here crosses the Towy we -shall see reflected in the river a thickly wooded bluff. Among these -trees are the ruins of Dynevor, perhaps the most important stronghold -of the princes of South Wales. It was in the ninth century that Roderic -the Great built the first castle here, and from that day forward till -Roderic’s fortress had for many years been replaced by a Norman one, -Dynevor passed from hand to hand, from Welsh to English and from -English to Welsh, and from one turbulent chieftain to another. It -seems to have been regarded more or less as the key to South Wales; -for on one occasion Henry II. sent a special spy to inquire into the -strength of Dynevor and the general character of the country. This -artless knight asked his way of a Welsh dean, and was, as he might -have expected, led by a route so wild, so rough, and so extremely -circuitous that the castle seemed to be practically inaccessible. By -way of heightening the effect this humorous divine paused at intervals -to satisfy his hunger with handfuls of grass. It was the custom in -that poor country, he said. The knight returned to Henry with the -report that the country round Dynevor was “uninhabitable, vile, and -inaccessible, only affording food to a beastly nation, living like -brutes.” - -Within a few miles of Dynevor there is another castle that looks as if -it might well have been inaccessible--Cerrig Cennen. It is worth while -to drive a few miles out of our way to see this circlet of towers on -its pale grey crag, dominating the whole landscape of rounded hills. -It is best to approach it by Derwydd Station, partly because the more -direct route leads over a long and precipitous hill, and partly because -from this side one’s first view of the old fortress is more striking. -I think there is little to be gained by trying to drive close to the -actual ruins: the impressive effect is in the distant outline of this -strange and sudden crag, on which, it is said, a Knight of the Round -Table built his fortress before the Norman of later days made it his -stronghold. - -From Llandeilo to Carmarthen we have a choice of roads. The upper one -is perhaps slightly the faster of the two, but from the lower there -is a better view of Dynevor, and Dryslwyn Castle, and Abergwili, the -palace of the bishops of St. David’s. In Carmarthen itself there are -few relics left of a history that begins in the days of the Romans -and has been stormy to a most unusual degree; so stormy, indeed, that -one marvels the place exists at all. The wicked Vortigern, King of -Britain in the fifth century, is said to have built a castle here, -to defend himself against a too persistent saint who was trying, -quite in vain, to turn him from the many errors of his ways. He had -first taken refuge at Rhayader, but, says Nennius the historian, “St. -Germanus followed him with all the British clergy, and upon a rock -prayed for his sins during 40 days and 40 nights.” So the worried King -fled here to Carmarthen and built a castle in which to hide. But, says -the story, “the saint as usual followed him there and with his clergy -fasted and prayed ... and on the third night a fire fell suddenly -from heaven and totally burnt the castle.” How many times since then -Carmarthen has been burnt to the ground and besieged and plundered I -do not know, but one or other of these incidents is casually recorded -on nearly every page of the History of Wales. But Carmarthen, like -hope, “springs eternal.” Among the many who burnt it is Owen Glyndwr, -who at the very time that the foolish legend describes him as sitting -in a tree watching the Battle of Shrewsbury was really occupied, -not only in destroying this town, but also, as though influenced by -the reputed birthplace of Merlin, in having his fortune told by a -soothsayer brought from Gower for the purpose. But though this brave -fortune-teller prophesied evil things they were not fulfilled. Owen had -still many successes before him, and his dealings with this ill-fated -town of Carmarthen made a great sensation. There is an agitated letter -still existing which the Archdeacon of Hereford, the “lowly creature,” -as he signed himself, of Henry IV., wrote in “haste, great haste,” to -implore that King for help. “And note,” he adds in a postscript, “on -Friday last Kemerdyn town is taken and burnt, and the castle yielded -... and slain of the town of Kemerdyn more than L persons. Written in -right haste on Sunday; and I cry your mercy and put me in your high -grace that I write so shortly; for by my troth that I owe to you, it -is needful.” The exciting effect of Owen’s presence, we see, was of -somewhat wide radius. Yet even Owen could not suppress Carmarthen -for more than a short time. Leland tells us of two “reparations done -on the castel,” and in his day, he says, it was “veri fair and doble -waullid.” Even now there is some of it left, but unless we exceed the -speed-limit and refuse to pay the fine we shall probably not see it, as -it has been made into a prison. - -But even the modern streets that have risen from so many ashes are -not without their own memories of the great. They were once lined -with shouting, excited crowds, gathered from all the country round -to see Nelson drive through the town: and through them passed the -strange funeral procession of Richard Steele, who was carried by night, -attended by twenty-five torch-bearers, to his grave in St. Peter’s -Church. Above it a modern brass has been placed of late years, but -for long the grave was, at his own dying request, left nameless. “I -shall be remembered by posterity,” he said. There are other monuments -worth seeing in St. Peter’s Church: the tomb of Sir Rhys ap Thomas, to -whose efforts Henry VII. owed much in his quest for the crown; and a -mural tablet of the seventeenth century, to “virtuous Anne, the lady -Vaughan,” who was, we learn, “the choice elixir of mortalitie.” - -From Carmarthen we must certainly not neglect to visit Kidweli, ten -miles away near the sea, for there we shall find much of that visible -romance that has, by storm and stress, been battered out of the -county town. Kidweli once had walls, and three gates, and a priory of -Black Monks, as well as the castle that still stands above the river -Gwendraeth in all its imposing simplicity. The round towers and the -curtain-wall and the great gateway have a very distinctly Edwardian -character, but Caradoc of Llancarvan says there was a castle built -here quite at the end of the twelfth century by Rhys ap Griffith, -that great prince of South Wales who is known in Welsh history as The -Lord Rhys; and even in those destructive days a hundred years was a -short time for a castle to last. Probably Rhys built it and Edward -repaired it, giving it the special character of his own work, but not -entirely wiping out the work of Rhys. In this way we may account for -the name of Gwenllian’s Tower, for Rhys had a much-loved daughter -Gwenllian, “a woman of such incomparable beauty, and exceeding in all -feminine qualifications, that she was accounted the fairest and best -accomplished lady in all the country.” She had fine traditions behind -her, but they were not so much “feminine” as warlike; for her father -Rhys was “the protection of his country, the splendour of arms, the -arm of power,” and her great uncle was the valiant Owen Gwynedd, and -her grandmother was that gallant lady after whom she was doubtless -named, Gwenllian the wife of Griffith. It was quite near Kidweli that -this other Gwenllian died. In her husband’s absence she led his men -to battle against the Norman invader, Maurice de Londres, whose grave -we saw in his priory-church of Ewenny. Her forces were defeated, and -she herself, by order of de Londres, was beheaded there and then. Her -brother Owen Gwynedd, however, was still alive, and he saw to it that -the reckoning was heavy. - -The road from Carmarthen to Tenby lies at first through rather dull -country, but after a time passes between extremely pretty wooded hills. -Presently we catch sight of the sea shining at the end of a deep -valley, and after this a delightful run on a downward gradient carries -us within sight of Tenby, the most charming of watering-places. Now, -it is not altogether an artificial classification if we divide the -civilised world into two parties: those who delight in watering-places -and those who flee from them. For this taste or distaste is really, -more or less, an indication of temperament, and at the end of half an -hour one could usually guess correctly in which of the two classes -to place a new acquaintance. But I really defy any one to dislike -Tenby. There is something endearing about it. From the roadside the -cliffs drop steeply to the sands below--very yellow sands sweeping -in long curves to the edge of a brilliantly green sea, while beyond -them the long headlands stretch one behind the other, mere blurs of -purple or misty blue. On the right the remnant of the castle stands -upon a rock, and below it there juts into the sea a picturesque little -pier, entirely for use, and innocent of pavilion or bandstand. Here -the innumerable trawlers take shelter, till in the early morning they -unfurl their crimson or brown sails, and one by one glide out into -the bay--a brave sight, and one that calls to mind the early name of -this place, Dynbych-y-Pysgod, the Little Town of Fish. - -[Illustration: GOSCAP ROCK, TENBY.] - -[Illustration: MANORBIER CASTLE, NEAR TENBY.] - -There is something almost incongruous in the thought of the many sieges -that this quiet, sunny town has suffered. From very early days it -played an active part in the history of this strange English corner -of Wales, and if its walls and gateways are still standing to add to -its beauty, this is not for want of use, but because their uses were -so constant that they were kept in good order. Of the castle, indeed, -little enough remains: a ruined tower, an archway, and a fragment of -wall are all that is left on the rock that juts out so picturesquely -into the green sea. - -But if the shrewd blows of several centuries have left us little of -Tenby Castle, it is far otherwise with the splendid walls and towers -of Manorbier, which stand close above the sea a few miles further -along the same coast. To see Manorbier at its best one should approach -it from the road called the Ridgeway, and this route, too, has the -advantage of commanding, here and there, some very lovely views of the -coast, of Lydstep and Caldey Island. It is well to know that on Sunday -no strangers are admitted within the gate of Manorbier. - -It stands, as Leland says, betwixt two “hillettes, between the wich the -Severn Se gulfith in”--a fine setting for its battlemented walls and -towers, the “turrets and bulwarks” of which Giraldus proudly speaks. -That most delightful chronicler declares this to be the pleasantest -spot in Wales, and then half apologises for his enthusiasm over this -“his native soil, his genial territory.” We may forgive him for his -love of the place, even if we think he goes a little too far, for this -Gerald de Berri the Norman, who oddly enough has been known to all -who have come after him as Giraldus the Welshman, was born here at -Manorbier; and down there on the shore are the sands where he played as -a child, building, we are told, not castles, but always churches and -abbeys. - -Strange enough this belligerent-looking building seems to have no -history. It has, apparently, led an entirely domestic life. We hear -of mills and ponds, of parks and dovecots in connection with it, but -of siege and bloodshed not a word. The great, grim walls and bastions, -however, must have added greatly to the peace and comfort of the Norman -barons who lived behind them, and they certainly add very much to our -pleasure. - -Climbing again to the Ridgeway we turn to the left, with a view to -seeing Lamphey, Pembroke, and the Stack Rocks before, following in the -footsteps of many a pilgrim, we visit the shrine of St. David. - -Lamphey Palace was for several centuries one of the dwellings of the -Bishop of St. David’s; and a good deal of it was built by Bishop -Gower, whose “mason’s mark,” so to speak, is the arcaded parapet so -conspicuous here and at his cathedral city. Bishop Gower seems to have -been the benefactor of this see, as Bishop Barlow was its evil genius. -It was owing to the latter that Lamphey passed to the Crown, and -thence to the house of Devereux; and so it came to pass that in this -sequestered corner Robert, Earl of Essex, passed the early years of -a life that was destined to be anything but sheltered, and played his -childish games with no thought of a capricious queen or of Tower Hill. -And with him, no doubt, played his sister Penelope, whom the pen of Sir -Philip Sidney has made more familiar to us as “Stella.” - -From Lamphey two miles of level road will take us to Pembroke, and -to the castle that is perhaps the most impressive in all this land -of relics, where the castles are so strangely thick upon the ground. -The great walls rise upon a rock whose base is lapped by the waters -of Milford Haven; in the centre stands the mighty double keep, and -round it is a ring of bastions; on the town side is the entrance-gate, -flanked by massive towers. There is something peculiarly imposing -about this gateway, whose implacable strength seems all the more -uncompromising from its being unsoftened by ivy and very little -discoloured by time, though its fine effect is, of course, cruelly -marred by the lawn-tennis nets that seem so often to be regarded as -pleasing and appropriate additions to mediæval castles. Pembroke, -unlike Manorbier, is full of history; there has been no lack of sieges -here. Even before the building of this castle there were stirring -doings round this rock: fierce attacks and wily stratagems, not -unmixed, some say, with romance. There was a “slender fortress” here, -built by Arnulph de Montgomery of stakes and turf--a poor defence one -would have thought, but apparently sufficient to bear a good deal under -the guardianship of that “worthy and discreet” constable, Gerald de -Windsor, grandfather of our Giraldus. He showed his discretion on one -occasion, when the stakes and turf were besieged by the Welsh, and his -garrison was extremely short of food, by cutting up the last few beasts -that remained to them, and throwing the pieces to the enemy. In our day -this would be described, not as discretion, but as “bluff,” and it was -as successful as that quality so often is. It is said by some that it -was this same Gerald who built the existing castle, but there seems to -be a good deal of uncertainty on the subject; and even more uncertainty -as to which castle it was from which Gerald’s wife Nest, who was less -discreet, apparently, than her husband, was carried off by a Welsh -prince, not without encouragement from the lady. But when one hears -that the discreet Gerald escaped on this occasion by creeping down a -drain-pipe, one feels that there was some excuse after all for Nest. -But these are mere traditions. What is very certain is that one of the -stern entrance-towers was the birthplace of Henry VII., who lived here -with his mother through the early years of his life, and after his -exile in Brittany landed only a few miles away at Dale, where he won -the Welsh at once to his cause by unfurling the Red Dragon of Uther. -When Leland was here he was shown the room in which Henry was born, and -in it “a chymmeney new made with the armes and badges of King Henri the -VII.”; but this fireplace must have vanished long ago, for even the -local guide-books do not profess to know the room of Henry’s birth. - -[Illustration: ENTRANCE TOWER, PEMBROKE CASTLE.] - -[Illustration: PEMBROKE COAST.] - -There was a memorable siege of Pembroke in the Civil War--memorable -not only because of its importance, but because the leaders of the -Royalist garrison were renegade Roundheads. Cromwell’s guns were lying -useless in the sand, for the ship that carried them had run aground; -but undismayed he determined to starve the garrison out. “Here is a -very desperate enemy,” he wrote to Fairfax, “who being put out of all -hope of mercy, are resolved to endure to the uttermost extremity, being -very many of them gentlemen of quality and thoroughly resolved.” They -yielded at last, and “Drunken Colonel Payer,” as Carlyle calls the -renegade, “full of brandy and Presbyterian texts of Scripture,” being -indeed out of all hope of mercy, was shot at Covent Garden. Beyond -hope of mercy, too, was the traitor who, by betraying the source of -the castle’s water-supply to Cromwell, was the cause of the surrender. -Cromwell, with characteristic promptitude, cut the drain-pipes and -hanged his informant on the spot; and not many years ago some workmen -found the broken pipes, and close beside them some human bones. - -About eight miles beyond Pembroke are the Stack Rocks. The road is -hilly and the gates across it are exasperatingly numerous; but these -are but small discomforts, and the reward is very great. It is almost -suddenly that one finds oneself on the very edge of the stupendous -cliffs that form the southern coast of Pembrokeshire--an edge that is -almost mathematically a right angle, so sheer is the drop, so level is -the plateau above. This stern, impregnable coast has the impressiveness -that extreme simplicity on a large scale always has: it has the -directness of Early Norman architecture. There is not an unnecessary -line, so to speak, not the least attempt at ornament; and the effect -is to take away one’s breath. A few yards from the cliff are the great -pillars known as the Stack Rocks, obviously separated from the mainland -by the patient efforts of the sea and air--examples of the survival of -the fittest. Their tall, gaunt outlines, and the sea-gulls that circle -round them, add much to this strange scene; but our real reward for -opening all those gates lies, not in the actual Stack Rocks themselves, -but in the long curves of the coast-line, the massive cliffs, the -green, transparent sea that swirls about their base. - -It is necessary to pass through Pembroke on the return journey, but we -must leave it by the Carmarthen road, since to reach Haverfordwest we -have to avoid all the long ramifications of Milford Haven. Soon we turn -sharply to the left and enter the tiny village of Carew, where, close -beside the roadway, stands one of the finest Celtic crosses in Wales, -richly carved with one of those interlaced designs that the Welsh in -very early days copied from the Irish. And not very far away is another -of those splendid castles that were, to a Norman baron in Wales, among -the bare necessities of life--the half Norman, half Tudor castle of -Carew, or Caer-wy (the Fort on the Water), whence the pronunciation -_Carey_. The east front, the entrance-gate and bastions are, I believe, -the work of Gerard de Windsor, constable of Pembroke, and are plainly -Edwardian in character; but the north front, with its famous mullioned -windows, was added by Sir Rhys ap Thomas, the energetic supporter of -Henry VII., whose tomb we saw at Carmarthen; while the eastern side, -with the great banqueting-hall and the lovely arch that leads to it, -was contributed by Sir John Perrot, of Elizabethan days. This Sir -John Perrot was one of the worst of the Irish Lords Deputy, but it -was not on this account, very certainly, that he was suddenly called -away from his building operations at Carew and bestowed in the Tower -of London. The builders, delivered from his vigilant eye, did their -work so perfunctorily that it is now in a more dilapidated condition -than the sturdy defences of the Norman part of the castle.[12] But -perhaps the old splendour of Carew is represented and recalled best -of all by the beautiful rooms on the northern side, whose thresholds -have been trodden by so many mailed feet, so many dainty silken shoes; -for the hospitalities of Carew, at all events in the days of Sir Rhys -ap Thomas, were carried out on a large scale. Henry of Richmond, not -yet Henry of England, was entertained here on his way to Bosworth, and -mounted the stairs to the room that displays his arms upon a shield, -only a little time before he mounted the steps of the throne. This -last event was celebrated here in a magnificent pageant, a medley of -feasts and tournaments and sermons, at which a thousand guests filled -these weed-grown rooms with all the glitter and colour of an age that -loved fine clothes. Sir Rhys himself figured on the occasion in “a -fine gilt armour,” and was attended by “two hundred tall men in blewe -coats.” The banqueting-hall on the east side was not then in existence, -but there was nevertheless “a goodlie spaciouse roome richlie hanged -with clothe of arras and tapestrie” in which “the bettermost sort” -were entertained, a cross table being laid at one end for the King who -was so many miles away. And yet, in spite of these rash distinctions -among the guests, we are assured by the chronicler that “one thing is -noteworthy, that for the space of five dayes among a thousand people -there was not one quarrell, crosse word, or unkind looke that happened -betweene them.” It seems almost unnecessary that the bishop, before -they parted, should have “bestowed a sermon upon them.” - -Fifteen miles of a hilly road lie between Carew and Haverfordwest, -a town that was important enough in Edward IV.’s day to be made a -separate county. It was the chief town and stronghold of the Flemish -colony, and the dominating position of the castle bears witness to its -former usefulness; while its present mission as a gaol does nothing to -detract from its grim appearance. - -It was outside the embattled walls of Haverfordwest that Glyndwr first -met his French allies, who had landed in Milford Haven from their -hundred and forty ships. There were four or five thousand of them, very -gay in their apparel, very rich in their accoutrements, and here before -the hill of Haverfordwest they must have been an encouraging sight for -a man whose luck was beginning to turn. But this stern castle withstood -them, none the less, and though they burnt the town, they were obliged -to retire. In the Civil War the Royalist garrison adopted a simple plan -for saving themselves from the discomforts of a siege. Hearing that -the enemy was approaching, it seemed to them that the best way to avoid -unpleasantness would be to leave the place vacant, which they did with -all possible despatch. - -[Illustration: CAREW CASTLE.] - -[Illustration: ST. DAVID’S CATHEDRAL AND RUINS OF THE BISHOP’S PALACE.] - -There are a good many things that we may think of in this town: those -“people brave and robust,” as Giraldus calls the Flemings whom Henry I. -established here; poor Richard II., who gave them their charter; Edward -IV., who gave them a high sheriff; the sieges of centuries; the gay -French army; but I, when I climb the steep streets of Haverfordwest, -long most of all to know the spot on which the Crusades were preached -to “a people well versed in commerce and woollen manufactories.” -“It appeared wonderful and miraculous,” says the historian, with no -consciousness that he is saying anything humorous, “that although -the archdeacon addressed them both in the Latin and French tongues, -those persons who understood neither of those languages were equally -affected, and flocked in great numbers to the cross.” - -In the days when people journeyed to St. David’s for the good of their -souls it was considered that two pilgrimages to that shrine secured -as many spiritual advantages as one pilgrimage to Rome. It seems hard -that those who now approach St. David’s by train should not derive some -solid benefit of this kind, for the penance must really be very great, -since Haverfordwest is the nearest station, and the road between the -two places is known as “sixteen miles and seventeen hills.” One passes -these sad pilgrims, packed very closely in hired wagonettes behind -still sadder horses, and one hopes that good may accrue to their souls, -since surely this must be very bad for their bodies. Even bicyclists, -our brethren of the road, must find these seventeen hills no easy task. -The pilgrimage to St. David’s is pre-eminently one for motorists. - -The surface, on the whole, is good, and near the coast the scenery -is fine. As the sea comes into sight on our left the rather dull, -flat landscape to the right is enlivened by the curiously sudden crag -on which stand the remains of Roche Castle, the birthplace of Lucy -Walters, the Duke of Monmouth’s mother. After a time the road dips -suddenly to the shore at Newgale, where the sands stretch for two miles -between low headlands, and where long ago the sea once receded and -showed the blackened stumps of a huge submerged forest. Between this -and St. David’s are “divers other little creekittes,” says Leland, who -has a passion for diminutives of an original kind; and of them all -none is so charming as little Solva where the narrow creek runs up -far into the land, and a picturesque village climbs the hill, and the -“fischerbotes” take refuge now as they did in the sixteenth century, -and probably long before it. - -A few minutes later appear the outskirts of the strangely squalid -village that is the cathedral city of St. David’s. The straggling, -ugly street gives little promise of reward for our pilgrimage. Then -suddenly we are at the edge of a hill, and we look down into the little -dell that holds, perhaps, as much beauty and history and legend as any -spot of its size in our country: the cathedral itself, very plain and -built of a strange purple stone; close beside it the ruins of St. -Mary’s College, founded by John of Gaunt and his wife; and beyond it -the far greater ruins of Bishop Gower’s very beautiful palace, with -its great rose-window and the arcaded parapet that characterises the -bishop’s buildings. And to the seeing eye this little hollow contains -far more than these mere stones: it is filled with countless memories -of saints, and those who were anything but saints; it is crossed by a -long procession of pilgrims; William I., who came to worship before St. -David’s shrine and in some sort apologise, as it were, for conquering -the country--an apology that was rather premature; Edward I. and his -faithful Eleanor, on the same errand, with more reason; William Rufus, -with little interest in saints or shrines; Henry II., “habited like a -pilgrim, and leaning on a staff,” and met at the gate by a long and -solemn procession. Of all these, Edward was the only one who worshipped -in this very building, for it is the fourth that has stood on this spot -and was raised just after Henry II.’s visit. Much restoration has given -it the look of a new building, as seen from the outside. Perhaps -this is why, as one passes through the doorway, one is inclined to hold -one’s breath from sheer surprise; for St. David’s Cathedral is “all -glorious within,” and there is nothing outside to prepare one for the -Norman arches with their varied and rich ornament, for the splendour -of the fifteenth-century roof, and of the rood-screen that Gower built -and is buried in. For nearly two hundred years the nave was covered -with whitewash, and indeed it has narrowly escaped worse things at the -hands of evil men, for Bishop Barlow, of whom we heard at Lamphey, and -heard nothing good, was minded to strip the roof of its lead, and was -only stopped in this enterprise by Henry VIII. It was this same bishop -who stripped the roof of Gower’s palace and so led to its decay; and -being, it seems, a veritable _esprit fort_, he not only was the first -Protestant bishop who took advantage of the permission to marry, but -he also took advantage of the dissolution of nunneries and married an -abbess. Their five daughters, it is said, all married bishops. Barlow -positively hated St. David’s. Why, he asked, should money be spent -on these ruinous buildings “to nourish clattering conventicles of -barbarous rural persons”? Why not move the see to Carmarthen, since -St. David’s was “in such a desolate angle, and in so rare a frequented -place, except of vagabond pilgrims”? The Saint himself was merely “an -antique gargle of idolatry.” In short, the lead of the roof was the -only valuable thing here. - -[Illustration: ST. MARY’S COLLEGE, ST. DAVID’S.] - -[Illustration: ST. DAVID’S CATHEDRAL, INTERIOR.] - -Now Henry VIII., as we well know, had little enough respect for the -shrines of the saints or for the beauties of architecture, but he -had a great respect for the bones of his own grandfather--and these -lay here. So Barlow had to hold his hand; and we, as we stand in the -presbytery of the cathedral beside Edmund Tudor’s tomb, must remember -all we owe to it. Nor is his the only notable tomb in this place; for -here is the simple shrine before which so many kings, such countless -pilgrims, have knelt, and there is the recumbent figure that some say -is the Lord Rhys, the son of the brave Gwenllian, the greatest of the -princes of South Wales, of whom it was said that “his prowesse passed -his manners, his wytte passed his prowesse, his fayre speeche passed -his wytte, his good thewes passed his fayre speeche.” Of the grave of -Giraldus we must not be too sure, for though it is pointed out to us -there has been much discussion with regard to it. Yet somewhere in this -cathedral his dust lies we know. - -Just beyond St. David’s is the sea. And here too we must go, and, if -possible, see the sun setting behind that western horizon where the -hills of Holy Ireland are said to be sometimes visible. St. Patrick -saw them, says the legend, as he sat on this shore, and vowed to -give his life to the conversion of that land. He kept his vow; but -William Rufus, who stood here with very different intentions, was less -successful. As he looked across the sea to Ireland, he said, “I will -summon hither all the ships of my realm, and with them make a bridge to -attack that country.” His words were reported to Murchard, Prince of -Leinster, who, says the story, paused awhile, and answered, “Did the -King add to this mighty threat, If God please?” and being informed that -he had made no mention of God in his speech, he replied, “I fear not -his coming.” - -The legend that connects St. Patrick with this shore is extremely -circumstantial, but whether it has the least foundation in truth I do -not know. In the Rosy Valley, says the story, he built a college, where -he taught both boys and girls, and trained missionaries who afterwards -became Irish saints. One of the girls was Nôn, the mother of St. David, -and it was near Porth Clais that that saint was born. And when he was -old enough the boy too became a pupil of St. Patrick; and so, when -his college days at Llantwit were over, and he was made “Archbishop -of Legions,” because “his life was a perfect example of that goodness -which by his doctrine he taught,” he moved the see from Caerleon to -Menevia for love of his master St. Patrick. In this way was fulfilled -the prophesy of Merlin: “Menevia shall put on the pall of the City of -Legions”; and from that time forward Menevia has been called after its -first and most famous bishop, St. David. - -From this strange, remote land of dreams and legends and memories of -early saints the transition to the world of modern progress is rather -sudden; for only fifteen miles lie between the shrine of St. David and -the new turbine steamers of Fishguard. We shall do well to choose the -upper road, which runs for the most part through a bare, inhospitable -land that is far more suggestive of the remoteness of the village-city -than the most dramatic mountain pass could be. Here and there we have -a fine glimpse of the coast, and there is a sudden softening in the -scenery as we draw near Goodwick. Here, at one side of the pretty bay -of Fishguard, are all the evidences of the new route to Ireland--the -station, the hotel, and the steamers at the quay, while across the bay, -beyond the long beach, the upper town of Fishguard appears above the -headland. Here, at Fishguard, the French landed in 1797. Then, as they -looked at those heights above the town, their hearts misgave them, for -the hills were ominously streaked and patched with scarlet. It became -plain to them that a very large force--a far larger force than they -were prepared to meet--was waiting to descend upon them. And so it -happened that their general, without loss of time, repaired to the -Royal Oak Inn, where he signed his capitulation to Lord Cawdor. I do -not know when, if ever, he found out that the masses of scarlet figures -on the hills were not soldiers, but the enterprising matrons and maids -of all the county round, who had come out in the red cloaks that were -then part of the national dress, to see what was going forward. - -The lower town of Fishguard lies in a cleft between two steep hills, -and its pretty little harbour has all the picturesqueness that quays -and boats and rippling green water can give. The further hill of the -two, which we must climb, is of a most amazing gradient--computed in -contour-books as averaging 1 in 7, but certainly 1 in 5 in places. -From the high ground to which it leads us, lying between Fishguard and -Newport, there are glimpses from time to time of fine coast scenery, -and beyond Newport the road lies through very pretty country, under -the conspicuous peak of Carningly. In the churchyard at Nevern there -is a beautiful Celtic cross, the cross of St. Brynach, an Irish -contemporary of St. David. From this point the road gradually rises to -a considerable height, and then runs down a long hill to Cardigan. - -Cardigan, once “the lock and key of all Wales,” gives us no hint of -its former greatness. It appears an uninteresting little town till one -realises that it is the Aberteifi whose castle was taken and retaken, -burnt, and shattered, and built again, through all the stormiest years -of Welsh history; captured by the men of the north from the men of -the south; defended by both against the Anglo-Normans; attacked by -the Flemings; at one time the court of Llewelyn, the greatest of the -northern princes; and at another the court of Lord Rhys, the greatest -of the southern princes. Here lived Griffith, the father of Rhys, “the -light and the strength and the gentleness of the men of the south,” -whose brave wife, Gwenllian, was killed by Maurice de Londres; and here -he and Gwenllian’s brother, the great Owen Gwynedd, avenged her, when -Cardigan bridge broke under the retreating Normans, and “the salt green -wave of Teivy was clogged” with the bodies of the slain. And here the -Lord Rhys held his famous revels, which included one of those mediæval -Tournaments of Song with which Wagner has made us so familiar. The -invitations were sent out in good time--a year and a day before the -event--and many hundreds of English and Normans were bidden from “all -Britain, Ireland, and the islands adjacent.” The historian goes on to -tell us how “Rhys caused all the bards or poets throughout all Wales -to come thither; and for a better diversion to the company he provided -chairs to be set in the hall, in which the bards being seated, they -were to answer each other in rhyme, and those that acquitted themselves -most handsomely and overcame the rest, were promised great rewards and -rich presents.” And the men of Gwynedd won the prize for poetry, but -the men of the south were victorious in music. - -Such in the old days was Cardigan, where the tourist may pause for a -mid-day chop or buy a picture postcard. - -Two miles above Cardigan, on a crag beside the Teify, are the ruined -towers of Cilgerran, which have been very little concerned with -history, though they have stood here since the days of Henry I. Their -striking position above the wooded banks of the river, however, will -repay us for a detour of a mile or two, and we can rejoin the main road -at the beautiful bridge of Llechryd. Here, where the prevailing note -of the landscape is peace, the gentle Teify, whose purling waters have -so often run red, was once actually dammed--as on another occasion at -Cardigan--by the bodies of the slain, when the princes of the south met -the invading princes of Powys and overthrew them. - -From Llechryd we follow the Teify past Newcastle Emlyn; and thence, if -we like, we may cross the moors to Lampeter; or, better still, we may -go straight on through the Henllan woods to Llandyssil, a lovely little -place where fishermen delight to dwell, and where in consequence there -is a really charming little hotel. And if, as may well happen, there -is no room for us there, we can after all go on our way to Lampeter, -for there also there is quite a nice hotel, though of course it lacks -the charm of the country garden and the rushing Teify. The moorland -road between Llandyssil and Lampeter is in its way unique, for on both -sides of it the hills are covered with a thick, short growth of gorse, -a carpet of gold spread almost smoothly for miles. - -At Lampeter there is nothing to detain us but the important business -of consulting maps. For here is the parting of the ways. If our object -is merely to reach the English border, our best way perhaps is to -aim at Builth. To do this we must strike across the hills through -lovely scenery; past Pumpsaint, where George Borrow awoke to hear -the murmuring of the Cothi; through Llandovery, where we have been -before on the way to Carmarthen; and thence over a really fine pass to -Llanwrtyd Wells. If, on the other hand, we are aiming at North Wales -our obvious course is to strike across to Aberaeron, and thence follow -the coast to Aberystwith and Barmouth. And if--and this is the course -I strongly recommend--we intend to complete the circle, and end our -little tour by running down the Wye Valley, then too we should make for -Aberystwith, and, turning thence eastward, join the infant Wye on the -slopes of Plynlimmon. - -[Illustration: KILGERRAN CASTLE, NEAR CARDIGAN.] - -[Illustration: THE WYE NEAR ITS SOURCE.] - - - - -THE VALLEY OF THE WYE - - -Those who have stout hearts and stout boots may, I believe, discover -the actual source of the Wye among the rushes of Plynlimmon. Five -miles of hard walking over rather dull downs will procure them the -satisfaction of seeing the first gleams of the thin silver thread that -is destined to grow into the most beautiful river of England. Most of -us, however, will be content to meet the Wye for the first time when -it is five miles old, so to speak, at the point where it touches the -high-road from Aberystwith to Newtown. Even here it is a tiny stream, -rushing lightheartedly down the hill over the rocks, unsobered as yet -by the dignified reflections of Hereford and Tintern and Chepstow -Castle. - -These slopes of Plynlimmon are not particularly inspiring, except when -regarded as the cradle of the Wye, and of that greater river whose -tributary she is, the Severn. It is true that the standard of Wales, -with its red dragon, once floated victoriously on the side of this -hill, and the short grass has been dyed with the blood of the Flemings, -who mustered here to chastise that stout rebel, Owen Glyndwr, and were -thoroughly chastised by him instead. But in themselves the heights of -Plynlimmon are a little uninteresting. Short grass and rushes are all -that grow upon them, and though their rounded outlines have a dignity -of their own, the lack of colour makes them rather desolate. It is not -till the Wye has passed Llangurig that it begins to earn its fame. - -Curiously enough, the Wye’s fame seems to depend mainly on its lower -reaches. Nine people out of ten regard it as rising, so to speak, -in Hereford; the Upper Wye is unknown to them and considered of no -account. Yet to those who know it the Upper Wye, with its rugged hills -and its wealth of colours, has a stronger charm even than the wooded -loveliness of Symond’s Yat or of Tintern. - -At Llangurig--which is a wind-swept village with a nice little inn and -a reputation for good fishing--the river and the road that follows -it turn sharply to the right, and begin to descend by a very gentle -gradient towards Rhayader. The landscape changes gradually. The hills -lose their bleak desolation only to become cultivated and commonplace: -then the fields yield to moorlands and the rounded curves to bold and -jagged rocks; and at last, near the spot where the river Marteg adds -its waters to the Wye and the railway joins the road, the great hills -rise on each side so precipitously that the way lies almost through a -defile. The hilltops are bare and grey, but by the banks of the river -is a belt of trees; and as the valley widens the slopes are no longer -bare but are glorious in purple and gold, in heather and gorse. And -where the flaming sides of the Elan Valley converge with the valley of -the Wye stands the tiny town of Rhayader. - -This is, I think, the gem of the Wye. It is well, therefore, if -possible, to stay here for a day or two; and fortunately there is a -nice little hotel to stay in. There are hills near and far, and on -every hill are all the colours of the rainbow, and with the passing of -every cloud the colours move and change. Close at hand are slopes of -bracken topped by rugged crags; far away the hills of the Elan Valley -are blue and amethyst. The river rushes through the town, giving to it -its name of Rhayader Gwy, the Falls of the Wye, though the falls are -not what they once were, I believe, before the bridge was built. Of -course there is a castle-mound, for no Welsh town of a respectable age -is complete without one. The castle itself has disappeared. The days -of its life, indeed, appear to have been few and evil. It was built by -“the Lord Rhys,” the mightiest of all the princes of the south, but so -strenuous was the life of his day that he was obliged to rebuild it a -few years later. Afterwards he was for a short time imprisoned by his -own sons, and it was while he was in this undignified position that his -castle of Rhayader was seized by his enemies. But these dim memories -have lately been eclipsed. Those who visit Rhayader to-day think little -of the valorous and potent prince of ancient Wales; they think almost -exclusively of the Birmingham Waterworks. We may forgive them for -this, for the Birmingham Waterworks are more romantic than one would -expect--romantic not merely as all great engineering works must be, -with the romance of enterprise and achievement, but also romantically -beautiful. One may drive for miles beside the lakes that wind into the -heart of the mountains, and would have so natural an air if it were not -for their mighty dams of Caban, and Pen-y-Garreg, and Craig Goch. It is -a drive worth taking, for the road is good, the mountains tower above -it with real grandeur, and the waters have pathos as well as beauty. -The legend of buried houses and churches is common to many lakes; but -in the case of the lakes of Cwm Elan it is no legend, but a fact, -that their waters flow over the ground where generations of men have -lived and worked, have ploughed their fields and said their prayers. -The affairs of most of them are forgotten as completely as their -houses are buried, but there is one memory here that no waters can -hide--whether of Cwm Elan or of the chilly Serpentine or of the blue -Mediterranean--the memory of Percy and Harriet Shelley. They lived here -once, young and happy, and would have thought it a wild prophecy indeed -if it had been foretold to them that not only they themselves, but even -their quiet homestead among the green fields, would be destroyed by -water. - -From Rhayader to Newbridge the road still closely follows the river, -which, as we watch it mile by mile, gradually becomes wider and calmer. -For the first few miles the banks are wild enough, and very beautiful; -then suddenly the river is hidden from us by the deep shades and -countless stems of Doldowlod Woods, where James Watt once lived; and by -the time we dart out into the sunlight again we are nearing Newbridge. -On this road there is nothing to limit our speed except the law, for -from end to end of the Wye the surface is good, and there are no hills -that deserve the name. At Newbridge we leave the river for a few miles, -but join it again near Builth, and cross it to enter that town. - -Builth is unattractive. It professes to be a Spa, but I never heard -of any one who drank the waters; and it is hardly likely to become -popular, since all the charms of Llanwrtyd Wells are but thirteen miles -away on the one side, and all the fashion of Llandrindod only seven -miles away on the other. Llanwrtyd is a delightful little place, with -a good hotel and lovely surroundings, unspoilt as yet by popularity; -while Llandrindod, as every one knows, is beloved by so many that it is -no longer very lovable. Builth has little to offer in rivalry of these, -and indeed makes small show of hospitality, maintaining in this matter -the character it earned long ago, when it refused to admit its fugitive -prince, the last Llewelyn. It is only a little way from here to the -dell whither he struggled through the snow from this his treacherous -town, only to find fresh treachery, and to die through its means. His -dust lies, they say, at the spot called Cefn-y-Bedd, or the Bank of the -Grave; and here in quite recent times a monument of stone has been set -up. It stands close to the wayside on the road from Builth to Llanwrtyd. - -This, however, is not our road, which follows the Wye very closely for -a time; through Erwood, where from the top of a slight rise we have a -wide and beautiful view; past Llyswen and the “Three Cocks,” one of the -most famous of fishing inns, and through Glasbury to Hay. We are now in -a broad and fertile valley; the hills are wooded; the river is growing -slow and stately in its demeanour. The whole aspect of the country has -changed, for at Hay we shall leave all the wildness of Wales behind us, -and shall enter the quiet, homely county of Hereford. - -“I cam _in crepusculo_ to the Hay,” says Leland, and he chose his time -wisely. - -Hay, or La Haie, as it was originally called, was once the -meeting-ground of all those turbulent mediæval passions that flourished -so exceedingly on the border. For this reason it is full of ghosts. -From this, the Welsh side, it has rather an undistinguished air, but -when first seen by twilight from the English side, with the Black -Mountains lowering behind it, and the remains of its grim castle -dominating it, little Hay seizes the imagination. For those who -approach it thus _in crepusculo_, like Leland, the past for ever -lives in its commonplace streets more insistently than the present; -lives above all in its castle--“the which sumetime hath bene right -stately”--the castle with the long, picturesque flight of steps, and -the longer and still more picturesque history. Through that great -doorway many feet have passed that never came out, for those that -entered the castle of Hay did it at their peril. The greater part of -the building as it now stands is of Tudor date, but the entrance has -by some means survived since King John’s time, and this in spite of -difficulties: for the place was plundered during the Border Wars, -destroyed by the Welsh themselves in self-defence, rebuilt by Henry -III., captured by Llewelyn, retaken by Prince Edward, captured once -more by Llewelyn’s grandson, and finally suffered the general fate of -Welsh castles. “Now being almost totally decay’d,” says Camden, “it -complains of the outrages of that profligate Rebel, Owen Glyn Dowrdwy, -who in his March through these Countries consumed it with fire.” - -This last disaster may account for the entirely modern appearance of -the houses; but there is nothing, no slate roof, no shop-window full -of cheap blouses, that can make one forget the haunting presence of -those that walk unseen in Hay--the undying ghosts of a hundred battles, -murders, and sudden deaths. - -Soon after leaving Hay we pass the remains of Clifford Castle. Here was -born Jane de Clifford, destined to be so fair that men would call her -the Rose of the World; and here no doubt she played her childish games -on the banks of the Wye, with no disturbing visions of that harder game -which she was to play later on and finally to lose. The story of the -avenging poison-cup is untrue, we are told: it was in the nunnery of -Godstow that Fair Rosamund died, and was buried beneath the cruellest -epitaph, surely, that was ever graven on a tomb. - -[Illustration: CONFLUENCE OF THE WYE AND THE MARTEG NEAR RHAYADER.] - -[Illustration: HEREFORD.] - -Two miles beyond Clifford is the toll-bridge of Whitney, and this we -cross with a pretty view of the river on each side of us. Our way -lies through Letton, past the turn to Monnington--which claims to -be the burial-place of Owen Glyndwr--and through Bridge Sollars -to Hereford. The landscape all the way is characteristic of the -country: a scene of quiet fields and gentle river, of thatched -cottages and gay gardens. It is not exciting, but it is extremely -pleasant. Characteristic as it is, however, it does not represent -Herefordshire at its best. The hills above Ledbury, the hop-gardens -round Leominster, the woods and the wide views near Richard’s Castle, -are all more distinctive and more beautiful than this part of the Wye -Valley. Indeed, if we were not at this moment pledged to follow the -Wye we should do well to drive from Hay to Hereford by way of the -Golden Valley, though the journey is considerably longer and the road -by no means so good. This valley was originally named by the British, -from the river that runs through it, the Valley of the Dore, or of -the Water, for _water_ is in Welsh _dwr_. The Normans, jumping to -conclusions, translated this into _Val d’Or_, and so it became the -Golden Valley; “which name,” says Camden, “It may well be thought to -deserve, for its golden, rich, and pleasant fertility.” - -But it is improbable that either the fertility of the “Gilden Vale” -or the remains of Abbeydore Monastery will tempt a motorist to leave -the splendid road that will lead him into Hereford by Letton, and -Bridge Sollars, and the White Cross that was set up in the fourteenth -century when the plague was raging in Hereford, to mark the spot where -the infection ceased, and where, in consequence, it was safe to hold -a market. Here, on the left, lies the suburb of Widemarsh and beyond -it the Racecourse, where the promising youth who was afterwards Edward -I. showed at an early age that genius for extremely practical jokes -that he used at the expense of the Welsh later on. He was the prisoner -of Simon de Montfort on this occasion, and was taking a ride with a -certain number of attendants. He guilelessly suggested that his guards -should ride races among themselves, while he amused himself by looking -on; then, when their horses were tired, he upon his fresh one galloped -off to Dinmore Hill, where the Mortimers of Wigmore were waiting for -him. This incident took place in Widemarsh; and in Widemarsh too is -a relic that is worth seeking out before we drive into the heart of -the town--the preaching-cross of the Dominicans, which, with the ruins -of a thirteenth-century monastery, stands among the cabbages of the -Coningsby Hospital. The latter is an Elizabethan foundation, and with -the red coats of its pensioners is in itself a picturesque object in a -town that is not very rich in visible memorials of its great history. -We may look in vain for the castle that was, according to Leland, the -largest and strongest in all England; the castle that was repaired by -King Harold and was once so splendid with its ten wall-towers and great -keep; where Ranulph of Normandy stayed, and Tostig, and King John, -where John of Gaunt was governor, were Simon de Montfort imprisoned -Prince Edward after the Battle of Lewes, where Isabella proclaimed -her son Edward III. Protector of England, and where Owen Tudor was a -prisoner. As it suffered no less than three sieges during the Civil -War, and when they were over its remains were sold for £85, we need not -be surprised that the castle is now represented by a public garden, -where the youthful citizens of Hereford may play leap-frog over the -spot where kings have feasted and made history. And not only has the -castle disappeared, but even of the old houses there are very few -remaining, as may be judged by the name of the fine one that stands in -the principal street of the town. In Chester, Worcester, or Shrewsbury, -“The Old House” would not be a very distinguishing name! - -The chief point of interest in Hereford is, of course, the Cathedral, -with its long and somewhat confusing history. An endless number of -people have had a hand in the building of it, apparently, from the -days when Offa of Mercia enriched the shrine of his murdered guest, -Ethelbert of East Anglia, till the quite recent and rather unfortunate -day when the west front was finished. The consequence of this diversity -of builders is that Hereford Cathedral, with its austere Norman -south transept, its Early English Lady-Chapel, its Decorated south -choir-transept, and its Perpendicular cloister, is a complete Guide of -Architecture. - -[Illustration: THE PREACHING CROSS, HEREFORD.] - -[Illustration: ROSS FROM WILTON.] - -It was as the shrine of St. Ethelbert that it first became important. -There is a good deal of disagreement on the subject of Ethelbert’s -death. The Anglo-Saxon Chronicle, for instance, says _tout court_ that -in 792 Offa commanded the head of King Ethelbert to be cut off; whereas -Matthew of Westminster gives quite a different version of the affair, -completely exonerating Offa, “that most noble and most illustrious and -most high-born king.” It was Offa’s queen, Quendritha, he says, who -caused a peculiarly comfortable armchair to be placed in the bedroom -of her visitor the King of East Anglia, and beneath it “a deep hole -to be dug”--with very unpleasant consequences for the visitor. When -the horrified Offa heard of Ethelbert’s fate he shut himself up and -refused food. “But,” adds Matthew, “although he was quite innocent of -all participation in the King’s death, he nevertheless sent a powerful -expedition and annexed the Kingdom of the East Angles to his own -dominions.” - -The murdered guest, whoever his murderer, was first buried at the -spot still called St. Ethelbert’s Well, and afterwards in Hereford -Cathedral, to its great enrichment. - -There are several roads from Hereford to Ross, none of which follow -the river closely. The most commonly used--being the least hilly--is -by Bridstow and Much Birch. Between this road and the Wye are still to -be seen traces of the College of Llanfrother, founded by Dubritius, -that great Archbishop of Caerleon who preached so movingly at King -Arthur’s coronation and then resigned his see to the still greater St. -David. On the other side of the Wye is a shorter, but after the first -five or six miles a more hilly route, with some fine backward views -and some glimpses of the river. The surface of this road is all that -can be desired, and the hills are by no means formidable; but as one -approaches Ross the country is rather uninteresting. - -Ross itself may be regarded as a monument to one John Kyrle. - - “Rise, honest muse, and sing the Man of Ross! [cries Pope] - Whose causeway paves the vale with shady rows? - Whose seats the weary traveller repose? - Who taught that heaven-directed spire to rise? - ‘The _Man of Ross_,’ each lisping babe replies.” - -The lisping babe, however, is making a mistake, for the Man of Ross -only taught the spire to rise forty-seven feet; and, moreover, it -has been destroyed by lightning and rebuilt since his day (which was -a very long day, lasting from 1637 to 1724). “A small exaggeration -you must allow me as a poet,” said Pope. But the fame of John Kyrle -does not depend upon the spire alone, for he did much to improve the -town, and did it, too, on a very small income. “He was a very humble, -good-natured man ... of little or no literature,” an eighteenth-century -diarist says of him. “His estate was £500 per ann., and no more, with -which he did wonders.” It was not, however, by means of this modest -estate alone that he won his lasting fame as a philanthropist, but also -by untiring energy and skill in the art of beggary, and the judicious -use of other men’s money. In the case of the church bell it was his own -money that he used, and his own silver goblet also. While the bell was -in process of casting he drank to Church and King, and then flung the -goblet into the molten metal--that after serving for the sacred toast -it might be for ever consecrated to sacred uses. This incident adds a -touch of the picturesque to the sterling qualities of the benevolent -old gentleman to whom Ross owes its public walks, and the _Prospect_ -that quaint Gilpin of the eighteenth century described as “an amusing -view.” Ross repays him by keeping his name green. It also--not entirely -without difficulty--keeps green the two elm-suckers that long ago -forced their way beneath the wall of the church and rose (being elms of -Ross) in the pew of John Kyrle. They have been dead for some time, but -they are still draped carefully with foliage to keep up the illusion. -The church itself is fairly old, and has some interesting monuments, -including an ugly one tardily raised to the memory of the Man of Ross. - -In the town the most cherished relics are, of course, Kyrle’s house and -the carved monogram he is supposed to have placed on the outer wall -of the Market Hall. The letters “F.C.” are interlaced with a heart, -and are said to represent the words, “_Faithful to Charles in heart_,” -for Kyrle was devoted to the Stuarts. Charles I. himself slept once in -this town, and other kings have visited it, but none has distinguished -himself here save George IV. The Mayor of Ross sallied forth to meet -him, as mayors use, wreathed in smiles and primed with speeches. By -way of response to all this loyalty and eloquence, however, “the first -gentleman in Europe” merely pulled down the blinds of the carriage! -History does not record the mayor’s next proceeding. The position -strikes one as difficult. - -Close to Ross and on our way to Monmouth is Wilton, which is reached -by a beautiful and ancient bridge of six arches, whence there is a -good view of Ross, clustered prettily on its hill and surmounted by -its heaven-directed spire. Part of this bridge was broken down during -the Civil War to prevent Cromwell’s army from reaching Hereford. The -castle, too, fell into the hands of the Royalists, though its owner -had carefully refrained from supporting either side, with the result -that he offended both. The ruins now enclose a private garden and are -fairly picturesque though they hardly compensate for an interrupted -run. Within these walls, of which so very little is left, the poet -Spenser was once entertained in the days of the Greys. Later on the -castle was owned by the family of Brydges, one of whom, when he was -Deputy-Lieutenant of the Tower, was the means, either deliberately or -from mere procrastination, of securing for England one of the most -glorious reigns in her history. The warrant for the execution of -Princess Elizabeth reached the Tower, but Charles Brydges delayed to -carry it out. While he was waiting Queen Mary died. - -From Wilton to Monmouth the scenery grows in beauty. At Goodrich Cross -we should turn sharply to the left to visit the castle, and this is a -matter that will take some time. For in the first place the castle is -at some distance from the road, and in the second place there is much -to see, and much, too, to hear. Yet there is little history connected -with Goodrich, considering its age and dignity, and the great names of -Pembroke and Talbot that are bound up with it. Its name, apparently is -a corruption of _Godric_, who built a fort here before the Conquest, -though the oldest part of the present ruin is said to date from the -twelfth century. In the Civil War it endured two sieges, and it was -after the second one, which lasted for five months, that the Parliament -dismantled it. Except on this one dramatic occasion, Goodrich figured -little in public life. It is the antiquary rather than the historian -who will find it of absorbing interest, for the arches and Norman -ornaments of the keep date from Stephen’s reign, and many styles of -architecture are represented in the various galleries, sallyports, and -towers, which have been gradually added by the successive owners of the -castle. Greatest of these was Talbot, first Earl of Shrewsbury and hero -of forty fights, “a valiant man, of an invincible, unconquered spirit.” -He is said to have added a room to the keep, whence he must often have -seen, as we may see, the Malvern Hills and the Welsh mountains in the -distance, with Symond’s Yat and the Kymin nearer at hand. - -Below Goodrich is Huntsham Ferry, which Henry IV. was in the act of -crossing when he heard of the birth of his son, afterwards Henry V. -So great was his excitement on this occasion that he impulsively -presented the ferry and its profits to the ferryman, whose heirs held -this possession for generations. - -About three miles from Goodrich we have to climb a short hill with a -gradient of 1 in 10; the steepest, I think, on this Wye Valley road. -From the top of it we run down on an easy slope past the wall of -Wyaston Leys and through the woods behind the Little Doward, with a -beautiful view--unfortunately visible only in glimpses--of the winding -river as it bends away towards Symond’s Yat. At the foot of the hill we -enter Monmouth. - -Now Monmouth, or some spot quite near it, is without doubt the best -motoring centre on the Wye. The town itself is not so pleasant to stay -in as Ross or Tintern, where there are hotels in pretty positions -with nice gardens; but to the motorist this is less important than to -others, since he will probably spend the day on the road. The important -thing is to have a variety of interesting roads upon which to spend it. -From Monmouth, one may drive up the Wye to Goodrich, Hereford, and Hay; -or down the Wye to Tintern and Chepstow; or through the Forest of Dean -on the further side of the river; or to Raglan, eight miles away, and -on to Abergavenny; or past Abergavenny and the Holy Mountain into the -wild Vale of Ewyas to far Llanthony. - -“I’ll tell you, there is goot men porn at Monmouth,” says Fluellen, -thinking of his king; and it is of Harry of Monmouth that we too think -as we wake the echoes of his birthplace with our horn--those echoes -that have so often answered to the “tucket” of John of Gaunt and of -many another. Some say that it was John of Gaunt who built the castle -in which his grandson was born, but whether this be the case or not -there was a castle on this spot long before his day, though little -seems to be known of it. The probability is that John of Gaunt improved -and repaired the castle that was already there. The existing building -has had an unusually chequered career even for a castle, having been -in turn a palace, a pig-stye, an assize court, and a barrack. Even -in James I.’s time it was said “that his Majestie hath one ancient -castell, called Monmouth Castell ... which is nowe and hath been for -a long time ruinous and in decaye, but by whom it hath byn decayed -wee knowe not, nor to what value, in regarde it was before our -rememberment.” “Harry’s Window,” but little else, survives as a shrine -to the king whose name is still “a name to conjure with.” His statue -stands on the town-hall, but the bells of St. Mary’s are the best -memorial of Prince Hal, though their story is more characteristic of -the rollicking schoolboy of Shakespeare than of the wise and soldierly -monarch of history. Time was when these bells rang out over the town -of Calais. They were doing so when Harry of Monmouth heard them first, -and were, in point of fact, celebrating his departure from the shores -of France with so much joyousness that the demonstration seemed to him -to be carried too far. He vowed that they should ring no more insolent -peals in Calais, and forthwith ordered them to be taken down and -carried to his native town. - -His town has other memories than his, and even other famous windows -than “Harry’s.” There is a fine oriel window, belonging now to -a school, but carefully preserved in honour of a twelfth-century -archdeacon, who was none other than that Geoffrey of Monmouth whom -Camden describes as “an Author well skill’d in Antiquities, but, as -it seems, not of entire credit.” I fear there is little to be said in -defence of Geoffrey’s credit as a historian, and there are those who -say that his window is no more authentic than his writings. - -Monmouth, like Hereford, is not rich in relics. Of its defences, -its walls and its four gates, there is left only one gate on the -Monnow Bridge, but of this the foundations are so old that there is -no record of their origin. The form of the gateway itself has been -slightly altered from time to time to suit increasing traffic, but its -picturesqueness is uninjured. Through its arch we must pass on our way -to Raglan and Abergavenny and Llanthony. - -It is possible, of course, to see all these places on the same day, -but it is not desirable. At Raglan one should have a leisured mind, -undisturbed by thoughts of space or time or possible punctures. There -are seats on its green terraces where one might sit happily all day -under the shadow of the Yellow Tower of Gwent, seeing, not only the -straight, stern lines of the great citadel rising from the moat, and -the beautiful windows beyond, and the machicolated towers that flank -the entrance, but also, as clearly as these, the pageantry and doughty -deeds of long-dead but unforgotten Somersets. Some of them lost their -heads in defence of the Rose of York, and some lost theirs for the Rose -of Lancaster, and one, the most famous of all, lost the home of his -fathers in the cause of the thankless Stuarts. Charles I. himself--for -whose sake all this splendour of banqueting-halls and state-rooms and -strong defences was made a ruin--has stood upon this terrace and looked -up at the great keep to which he was so fatal, has feasted in the -Elizabethan Hall, has ridden between the entrance-towers in state, and -has come to them for safety as a fugitive. It was after the Battle of -Naseby that he fled for protection to the house whose hospitalities he -knew so well, and whose owner, the first Marquis of Worcester, had -raised an army of two thousand men to fight for the King. Somewhere, -in some dark corner within those walls that were then so stately, Lord -Worcester met his ruined King by stealth, and being aged and infirm -was obliged to call for help before he could kneel, as it behoved him, -before the fugitive. “Sire,” said the old man weeping, “I have not a -thought in my heart that tends not to the service of my God and you;” -and he put three hundred pounds into the royal hand that took so much -and gave so little. It closed upon this gift, as it closed a few days -later upon the waistcoat that the Vicar of Goodrich, Dean Swift’s -grandfather, had lined with Broad Pieces. There was one occasion, it is -true, when Charles feared his entertainment might be too costly to Lord -Worcester, and suggested pleasantly that supplies should be wrung from -the neighbouring peasants. But Worcester was prouder than the King, “My -castle would not stand long,” he said, “if it leaned upon the country.” - -[Illustration: MONNOW BRIDGE, MONMOUTH.] - -[Illustration: RAGLAN CASTLE, ENTRANCE TOWER.] - -Even as matters were, his castle did not stand long. It held for -the King till the last barrel of powder was opened; but the sad day -came when the gallant old man of eighty-five passed for the last time -through his own great gateway, between those warlike towers that had -fought their last fight. He marched out to the sound of music and with -all the honours of war, but his heart was broken, and after a short -imprisonment in the custody of Black Rod, he died. “When I spoke with -the man,” he said of his guardian, “I found him a very civil gentleman, -but I saw no black rod.” - -With this splendid old warrior the glory of Raglan departed. Fairfax so -dealt with it that neither blood nor wine should ever be spilt within -its walls again; and the work begun by him was finished by private -enterprise. It is said that twenty-three staircases have been stolen -from the ruins of Raglan. - -About eight miles beyond Raglan is Abergavenny, lying -peacefully--forgetful of its lurid past--in the shadow of the Holy -Mountain. There is about Abergavenny now a peculiar serenity that is -only equalled by the darkness of its history. Not very much is left -of the Castle, of which Giraldus Cambrensis, the historian, said that -“it was more dishonoured by treachery than any other in Wales”; and -what there is of it is dishonoured now by swing-boats and asphalt -lawn-tennis courts. If these attractions appeal to us we may enter the -walls by paying twopence; but in the twelfth century the Seisyllts--the -ancestors of the Cecils--found that entering Abergavenny Castle cost -them more than this. One of them, in the absence of the Norman lord of -the place, was having a friendly chat one day with the constable. There -was a part of the wall that was in some way weaker than the rest, and -Seisyllt, pointing laughingly to this spot, said in the manner of one -who jests, “We shall come in there to-night.” The constable took the -precaution of keeping guard till daylight, then went to sleep. A few -hours later he and his wife were prisoners and the castle was captured -and burnt. - -It was after this, I believe, when the castle had been rebuilt, that -the villain, William de Braose, invited the princes of South Wales -to a banquet in these halls, picked a quarrel with them at his own -table, and had them massacred before his eyes. He then solemnly thanked -God for the fortunate issue of the affair, and more especially for -the lands of the dead Seisyllts. For this William de Braose, traitor, -murderer, and robber, never forgot to be pious. “He always placed the -name of the Lord before his sentences,” says Giraldus; and his letters -“were loaded, or rather honoured, with words expressive of the divine -indulgence, to a degree not only tiresome to his scribe, but even to -his auditors; for as a reward to each of his scribes for concluding -his letters with the words ‘by divine assistance’ he gave annually a -piece of gold.” In the matter of the murdered Seisyllts, however, his -thanksgiving was premature, for there were Seisyllts still alive who -fell upon Abergavenny Castle and demolished it. - -[Illustration: THE MOAT, RAGLAN CASTLE.] - -[Illustration: LLANTHONY PRIORY.] - -It raised its head again and took an active part in larger wars; but -it adds little nowadays to the attraction of Abergavenny, whose charms -are altogether those of peacefulness and depend on the quiet Usk, and -the hills that grow so purple against the evening sky. To reach -Llanthony we must drive on into the heart of those hills, with the -Skirrid Fawr, or Holy Mountain, on the right and the Sugar Loaf on the -left; then, at Llanfihangel Crucorney, turn sharply to the left down a -short but very steep hill, and so enter the Vale of Ewyas. Soon after -passing Cwmyoy the road grows very narrow and hilly. At Llanthony we -can take our car into the cloister-garth, for it is now the courtyard -of an inn. - -Long ago, when Rufus was king, a horseman drew rein here and looked -about him. On every side he saw the grand, clear outline of the hills, -and the shadows of the clouds sweeping across the fern and heather, and -the dark masses of the woods. Below him the little Honddu glittered -among the trees, and far away at the head of the valley the heights -of the Black Mountains rose between him and the world. And then and -there he vowed that they should rise between him and the world while he -lived, and should guard his grave when he was dead. We can see the same -hills at this moment rising blue and misty behind the ruined towers of -his Priory of Llanthony; and only a few yards away, among the grass and -nettles, we can see the spot where William de Lacy, soldier and monk, -was buried under the High Altar. - -William de Lacy was not the first to whom this valley appealed as being -“truly fitted for contemplation, a happy and delightful spot”; for long -before his day this very place to which he had wandered by chance had -been made sacred by the prayers of the greatest of all Welsh saints, -St. David. We may say our prayers on the self-same spot to-day, for -over there, just beyond the cloister-garth, where St. David had long -before made himself a hermitage, de Lacy built a tiny chapel. For -many centuries the richly endowed Priory has been deserted, roofless, -desecrated; its very arches are fringed with weeds, and fowls peck at -its grass-grown altar steps; but over there in that plain little grey -stone building prayers are still rising Sunday by Sunday from the spot -where St. David knelt alone. - -Here in Llandewi Nanthodeni, or the Church of St. David beside the -river Honddu, William de Lacy “laid aside his belt and girded himself -with a rope; instead of fine linen he covered himself with haircloth, -and instead of his soldier’s robe he loaded himself with weighty iron.” -His solitude did not last long. In those roystering days the sudden -piety of a soldier of noble birth was not likely to pass unnoticed, -and Matilda, Henry I.’s Queen, whom William of Malmesbury describes as -singularly holy and by no means despicable in point of beauty, came to -visit the hermit in his hill-bound cell, and playfully dropped a large -purse of gold into the folds of his coarse garments. His fame grew. -Soon there were many who desired to share his seclusion, and still more -who, while not quite seeing their way to the forsaking of this world, -were anxious to show their interest in the next. The former gave their -lives and the latter their money, and so Llanthony Priory rose in -all its grace and simplicity, the quiet lines of its architecture in -perfect harmony with those of the great hills that encircled it. “The -whole treasure of the King and his kingdom,” said Henry I.’s Prime -Minister, “would not be sufficient to build such a cloister.” The Court -was rather scandalised by this bold statement, till the Prime Minister -explained that “he alluded to the cloister of mountains by which this -church is on every side surrounded.” - -Giraldus describes the place as he saw it in the twelfth century. “A -situation truly calculated for religion,” he says, “and more adapted to -canonical discipline than all the monasteries of the British Isles.... -Here the monks, sitting in their cloisters enjoying the fresh air, -when they happen to look up towards the horizon, behold the tops of -the mountains as it were touching the heavens, and herds of wild deer -feeding on their summits.” It is probable that when the Augustinians of -Llanthony looked up towards the horizon it was not altogether for the -pleasure of seeing the wild deer. They had other reasons for taking an -interest in the hills, which too often were swarming with the hostile -Welsh. It was not long, indeed, before the brethren’s terror of -the Welsh grew stronger than their love of isolation, and the greater -number of them fled to Gloucester, where in a new Priory of Llanthony -their meditations were undisturbed. - -[Illustration: INTERIOR OF LLANTHONY PRIORY, SHOWING THE EAST END.] - -[Illustration: TINTERN ABBEY.] - -The beautiful valley, with its great, bare hilltops and mysterious -woods, its loneliness and calm, its memories of saintly men, attracted -a poet of the last century so strongly that he, like William de Lacy, -determined to stay here. Like de Lacy’s monks, however, Walter Savage -Landor could not get on with his neighbours, and after buying the -ruins of the Priory and building himself half a house he quarrelled so -thoroughly with all the countryside that he thought he would have more -peace elsewhere. He lived in the rooms that now form an inn, in the -Prior’s Lodge, and here Southey stayed with him. - -This run from Monmouth to Llanthony is about twenty-five miles in -length. If we are not wedded to the high-road we may return to Monmouth -by another route--composed almost entirely of byways and in some cases -very hilly ones--and so visit Grosmont and Skenfrith Castles. The red -towers of Grosmont stand, as the name implies, on a hill that is not -climbed without an effort, and the ruin overlooks a village that was -once a town, and indeed is technically a town still. It still possesses -a charter, I believe, and a Mayor’s staff; but in the matter of size -and prosperity it has been no more than a village since the day when -Henry V., then Prince of Wales, wrote to his “most redoubted and most -sovereign lord and father” in his “most humble manner” to this effect: -“On Wednesday the eleventh day of this present month of March (1405) -your rebels of the parts of Glamorgan, Morgannoc, Usk, Netherwent, and -Overwent, were assembled to the number of eight thousand men, according -to their own account; and they went on the said Wednesday in the -morning, and burnt part of your town of Grosmont ... and I immediately -sent off my very dear cousin, the Lord Talbot, and the small body of my -own household ... who were but a very small force in all.... And there, -by the aid of the Blessed Trinity, your people gained the field and -vanquished all the said rebels, and slew of them by fair account on -the field on their return from the chase, some say eight hundred, and -some say a thousand, being questioned on pain of death. Nevertheless, -whether it were one or the other, on such an account I would not -contend.” - -That was a sad day for poor Alice Scudamore, who lived hard by at -Kentchurch Court beyond the river Monnow; for Alice Scudamore, or -Skydmore, was the daughter of Owen Glyndwr, and the dead men whom -Prince Henry left upon the field of Grosmont were Owen’s followers. -This defeat was Owen’s first serious disaster, and was for him the -beginning of the end. It is said that years later, after the end had -come, he lived for a time with his daughter in the castellated tower -that still stands below the hill of Grosmont; and, indeed, Kentchurch -sometimes claims to be his burial-place. But the claims of Monnington, -where another of his daughters lived, are generally thought to be more -authentic. - -By making a very short detour from the direct road we may see the -ruins of Skenfrith Castle on our way back to Monmouth. Even in the -seventeenth century this castle was described as having been “decayed -time out of the memory of man,” and its remains are now naturally -scanty and not especially picturesque. Far more interesting than -the castle is the church, with its pretty timbered tower and fine -sixteenth-century tombs. At the vicarage is carefully preserved the -rarest treasure of this church: a cope that dates from the days before -the Reformation. - -On the other side of Monmouth, beyond the Wye, is the Forest of Dean, -where one may drive for miles through country nearly as grand and quite -as thickly wooded as the Black Forest. In most cases the trees are not -nearly so fine as those of our own New Forest, for the greater part -of this Forest of Dean was cut down to build our victorious fleets of -the eighteenth century; but the width of view and the succession of -tree-clad hills rising one beyond another, are compensations for the -lack of magnificent individual trees. Of these, however, there are a -few, such as the Newland Oak and the High Beeches. But on the whole the -beauty of Dean Forest lies in its distant views, its great expanses -of foliage stretching away from one’s feet to the blue horizon, as at -the Speech House and above Parkend, and at many another place; though -unfortunately many of these views are partly, if not entirely, spoilt -by the black scars and smoking chimneys of the collieries. The Speech -House is now a hotel, but it was originally built in Charles II.’s day -as a kind of Court House in which to settle disputes connected with -the Forest. St. Briavel’s Castle, a few miles further south than this, -and nearer the Wye, is a far older relic, for it is said that it once -sheltered King John. Be that as it may, the little that is left of this -castle is peculiarly attractive. To reach it, or the Speech House, or -indeed to drive in the Forest of Dean at all, one must be prepared to -encounter long hills with gradients in some places not less than 1 in -7, and roads that have suffered a good deal from the heavy traffic -connected with the mines. - -There is one expedition from Monmouth that we cannot possibly undertake -in a car, yet should by no means omit. The famous Symond’s Yat, with -its perfect river scenery, cannot be approached by road, but it is -easy to reach it by train, and very delightful to return to Monmouth -by water, past the great limestone crags known as the Seven Sisters. -At the hotel, where the train deposits one, the attraction is simply -the view of the river and its wooded banks, but for the energetic this -view may be much enlarged by half an hour’s climb to the summit of the -Yat itself, where those who enjoy scenery in proportion to the number -of counties visible, may have the satisfaction of seeing seven. It was -near Symond’s Yat, at a defile significantly called The Slaughter to -this day, that the Danes, under Eric of the Bloody Axe, were defeated -by King Alfred’s son Edward the Elder, named also the Unconquered, whom -Matthew of Westminster declares to have been “even more glorious than -his father for power and dignity.” - -The last fifteen miles of the Wye Valley, from Monmouth to Chepstow, -where the Wye falls into the estuary of the Severn, are probably as -beautiful as any fifteen miles of English road. It is late in May or -early in October that we should drive along this road to see it at its -best, for the whole landscape is filled with trees. The quiet river, -with the road close beside it, winds between two wooded heights from -Redbrook to the Severn. A gentle rise takes us out of Redbrook, which -has spoilt its beauty by manufacturing tin-plate; then we run down to -Bigsweir Bridge, and cross it, with a lovely view downstream; pass -Llandogo, where the Wye becomes tidal; pass Brockweir with its ferry; -and driving through Tintern Parva come within sight of the unsurpassed -beauty of Tintern Abbey. - -Go to Tintern again and again, for it never palls. See it when -the trees are first breaking into leaf, and all the leaves are of -different colours; and see it again against the heavy foliage of the -summer woods; and again when the hills behind it are red and gold in -autumn. For the Cistercians, though they denied art, were surely -admirable artists; and being forbidden by their stern rule to adorn -their churches with coloured glass or superfluous carving, they raised -for themselves buildings of perfect form in the loveliest places in -all England, where in spring and autumn the cold grey stone of their -exquisite windows was the frame of fairer colours than were ever -stained on glass. - -It was of this abbey that the incomparable Gilpin wrote quite gravely: -“A number of gable-ends hurt the eye with their regularity and disgust -it by the vulgarity of their shape.” A mallet, judiciously used, -he suggested, might make improvements. Unfortunately time and long -neglect have done only too much towards the ruin of Tintern, without -any help from the judicious mallet of Gilpin. For many years the -place was utterly uncared for; the stones were used by any one who -wished to build a cottage, and an old beggar-woman made her dwelling -in the library of the monks. This was long ago: every care is given -to Tintern now. The floor of the nave is covered with well-kept turf, -the fallen fragments of masonry are gathered together, the weak -places of the building are strengthened wherever it is possible. But -the alarming curves of the arches bear witness to past neglect, and the -timid tourist is appalled by the ominous warning on the notice-board: -“Persons who visit this Abbey do so at their own risk.” This is -discouraging. - -[Illustration: TINTERN ABBEY.] - -[Illustration: CHEPSTOW CASTLE.] - -From Tintern the road rises for about three miles towards the splendid -scenery of the Wyndcliff. The river winds below, and beyond it among -the trees a discerning eye may detect the straight ridge of Offa’s -Dyke. The view from the road as it passes beneath the famous cliff -is wonderfully beautiful--a view of tortuous river and height beyond -height of woodland, and gleaming in the distance the waters of the -Severn estuary: and those who climb the Wyndcliff come down again well -contented, having seen nine counties. - -As we pass the little village at St. Arvan’s the river is completely -hidden by the walls and trees of Piercefield Park. A gentle descent of -about two miles brings us to the steep hill that winds downwards into -Chepstow above the castle, passing under one of the old town-gates. - -“The towne of Chepstow hath bene very strongly waulled,” says Leland. -“The waulles began at the ende of the great bridge over Wy, and so -cam to the castel, the which yet standeth fayr and strong.” To all -appearances, as seen from the further side of Wye, it is strong still, -and fair it certainly is, standing high upon the red cliffs that add -so much to the beauty of this last bend of the river. It covers three -acres of ground, but as it is built in a succession of courts, sloping -upwards one above the other, the whole of its great length may be seen -at once and the effect is very fine. This castle, since it was built -by William FitzOsborne, Earl of Hereford, soon after the Conquest, has -seen a good deal of life, and even more of death. Its second owner -forfeited it, being of too independent a temperament to please the -King. William, having safely imprisoned this rebellious Roger, sent him -as an Easter gift his own royal robes--an attention that was meant -well, but was not very tactful. Earl Roger “forthwith caused a great -fire to be made, and the mantle, the inner surcoat of silk, and the -upper garment, lined with precious furs, to be suddenly burnt.” This -was his last act of rebellion. “By the brightness of God,” exclaimed -the flouted King, “he shall never come out of prison as long as I live!” - -Later on the castle passed to the great house of Clare. - - “From Chepstow’s towers, ere dawn of morn, - Was heard afar the bugle-horn; - And forth in banded pomp and pride - Stout Clare and fiery Neville ride.”[13] - -The greatest of the Clares, Richard Strongbow, sometimes called the -Conqueror of Ireland, was born at Chepstow; “a man tall in stature,” we -are told, “and of great generosity, and courteous manner.... In time -of peace he was more disposed to be led by others than to command,” -but “the post he occupied in battle was a sure rallying-point for his -troops.” - -The castle passed from hand to hand through the stirring centuries that -followed Strongbow’s day. In the Civil War it had many adventures. It -held for the King at first, was taken by the army of the Parliament, -and was recaptured by a handful of Royalists under Sir Nicholas Kemys, -by guile rather than by force. “On the whole,” says Carlyle, “Cromwell -will have to go.... Let him march swiftly!” He marched swiftly and took -the town of Chepstow, but besieged the castle in vain. Carlyle tells -the tale in few words: “Castle will not surrender,--he leaves Colonel -Ewer to do the Castle; who, after four weeks, does it.” It was not -easily, however, that Colonel Ewer “did it.” The garrison, reduced to -nineteen, held out till they were starving, and even then determined, -not on surrender, but on flight. Their boat lay ready beneath the -walls, waiting for the darkness. But when night came no boat was there, -for a soldier of the Parliament, a man of keen eyes, had detected both -the boat and her object, and, with a knife between his teeth, had swum -across the Wye and cut the rope that moored her to the river-bank. The -next day the nineteen Royalists surrendered. Thus Colonel Ewer “did the -castle.” - -During the Commonwealth Jeremy Taylor, the author of “Holy Living and -Holy Dying”--according to Coleridge the most eloquent of divines--was -imprisoned in Chepstow Castle as a follower of Archbishop Laud: -and here, too, when Cromwell’s day was over, Sir Henry Marten, the -regicide, suffered a mild form of imprisonment for twenty years. He -was allowed not only to receive his friends but to visit them, and he -was not deprived of the companionship of his wife. From what I read, -however, I cannot assure myself that he appreciated the last of these -privileges. He was buried in Chepstow Church, under an epitaph that he -composed himself--a rhyming epitaph of a high moral tone. Yet neither -poetry nor morality was Marten’s strong point. At a later date a -loyalist vicar removed from the chancel to the nave the bones of the -man who had signed Charles I.’s death-warrant. - -Chepstow Church once formed part of a Benedictine Priory connected -with the Norman Abbey of Cormeilles, and was originally the nave of a -larger building. It dates from early in the twelfth century; and even -if one has not time to enter the church it is well worth while to drive -past the beautiful Early Norman entrance. There are some interesting -tombs within, notably that of the second Earl of Worcester, who was -present at the Field of the Cloth of Gold. - -Two miles south of Chepstow is Mathern, where Tewdric of Glamorganshire, -saint and king, was buried. He was killed in a battle fought at -Tintern, and in the year 600 a chapel was built here as a shrine for -him. - -“Wye also,” says Leland, “a very great and famose river, passeth -through Ventland, and at S. Tereudake’s Chapel entereth ynto Severn.” - - - - -INDEX - - - Abbeydore, 236 - - Abbey Foregate, Shrewsbury, 24 - - Aber, 101 - - Aberaeron, 222 - - Aberavon, 180 - - Aberconwy, 82, 88 - - Aberdaron, 112, 115-117 - - Aberdovy, 152-155, 157 - - Abergavenny, 247, 249, 252-254 - - Abergele, 84, 85 - - Aberglaslyn, Pass of, 94, 95, 110 - - Abergwili, 190 - - Aberteifi, 219 - - Aberystwith, 141, 142-145, 148, 149, 222, 225 - - Agincourt, 152 - - Alaw, River, 121 - - Albright Hussey, 46, 47 - - Alla Wen, 97 - - Anglesey, 100-102 - - Anglo-Saxon Chronicle, 239 - - Arthur, King, 115, 167, 168, 240 - - Arthur, Prince, 6, 9, 14 - - Atcham, 25 - - - Bala, 152, 159-161 - - Bala, Lake of, 159, 162 - - Baldwin, Archbishop, 102, 118, 119, 172 - - Bangor, 98 - - Bardsey, 112, 115 - - Baring-Gould, Rev. S., 147 - - Barlow, Bishop, 199, 213, 214 - - Barmouth, 123, 125, 128, 222 - - Barmouth Estuary, 125, 126, 152, 155, 156, 158 - - Baron Hill, 101 - - Bassetts, 174 - - Battlefield, 34 - - Baxter, Richard, 27, 43, 44 - - Bayston Hill, 12 - - Beaupré, 62, 165, 173-175 - - Beaumaris, 99, 100-102 - - Bedd Gelert, 95, 110 - - Belesme, Robert de, 43 - - Benbow, Admiral, 45 - - Bendigeid Vran, 120, 121 - - Berkeley Castle, 170 - - Berwyn, 77 - - Bethesda, 98 - - Bettws-y-Coed, 81, 82, 85, 91, 92, 94, 95, 108 - - Borth, 113, 149 - - Boscobel, 29, 31-33, 44 - - Bigsweir Bridge, 265 - - Birmingham Waterworks, 229 - - Bishop’s Castle, 52, 55, 56 - - Black Mountains, 232, 255 - - Bolingbroke, 85 - - Borrow, George, 69, 79, 107, 109, 141, 187, 222 - - Boteler of Dunraven, 177, 178 - - Brampton Brian, 58, 59 - - Branwen, 120, 121 - - Braose, Matilda de, 186, 187 - - Braose, William de, 185, 186, 253, 254 - - Brecon, 151, 183, 185-187 - - Brecon Beacons, 184, 185, 187 - - Breidden Hills, 62, 134 - - Bridgend, 177, 178, 180 - - Bridge Sollars, 234, 236 - - Bridgnorth, 42-45 - - Bridstow, 240 - - Briton Ferry, 180, 181 - - Brockweir, 265 - - Bromfield, 10 - - Broseley, 45 - - Browning, Robert, 71 - - Brychan, 185 - - Brydges, Charles, 24 - - Buildwas, 26-28, 44 - - Builth, 222, 230, 231 - - Butler, Lady Eleanor, 71 - - Bwlch Oerdrws, 132, 133 - - - Cadell, Prince of South Wales, 146 - - Cader Idris, 125, 126, 132, 157, 158 - - Caerleon, 115, 166-169, 216 - - Caerphilly, 166, 169, 170 - - Caersws, 138 - - Caldey Island, 198 - - Camden, 89, 98, 233, 235, 249 - - Cann Office, 133 - - Capel Curig, 96, 108 - - Caradoc, 12, 25 - - Caradoc of Llancarvan, 87, 194 - - Cardiff, 166, 170, 171, 173 - - Cardiff Waterworks, 184 - - Cardigan, 219-221 - - Carew Castle, 205-208 - - Carew, Celtic Cross, 205 - - Carlyle, Thomas, 203, 270 - - Carmarthen, 187, 190-195, 222 - - Carnarvon, 85, 99, 103-105 - - Carningley, 218 - - Castell Crogen, 68 - - Caus Castle, 54 - - Cawdor, Lord, 218 - - Cefn-y-Bedd, 231 - - Ceiriog, River, 64, 67, 68 - - Ceiriog, Valley of the, 67 - - Ceirw, River, 79 - - Cernioge, 79, 80 - - Cerrig Cennen, 189, 190 - - Cerrig-y-Druidion, 78, 79 - - Charles I., 15, 17, 20, 43, 91, 122, 242, 250, 251, 271 - - Charles II., 29, 31-33, 69 - - Chastillon, Battle of, 48 - - Chepstow, 225, 247, 265, 268-272 - - Chester, Hugh, Earl of, 98 - - Chirbury, 52-54 - - Chirbury, Lord Herbert of, 52-54 - - Chirk, 64, 67-69 - - Churchstoke, 55 - - Cilgerran, 187, 220, 221 - - Clare, Gilbert de, 169 - - Clifford Castle, 234 - - Clifford, Jane de, 234 - - Clun, 56-58 - - Clungunford, 60 - - Clwyd, River, 84 - - Clynnogfawr, 112, 117, 118 - - Cochwillan Woods, 98 - - Coity, 179-180 - - Coleridge, 22, 271 - - Colwyn Bay, 85 - - Comus, 8 - - Concenn, 76 - - Conway, 82, 85, 86, 88-90 - - Conway, River, 80, 83 - - Corbet, Captain, 54 - - Corbet, Sir Vincent, 51 - - Cormeilles, Abbey of, 272 - - Corris, 152, 155, 157 - - Corwen, 68, 77, 78, 161 - - Cothercott Hill, 55 - - Cothi, River, 222 - - Cound, 38 - - Cowbridge, 173 - - Cox, David, 82 - - Craven Arms, 60 - - Cressage, 38, 39 - - Criccieth, 112-114 - - Crogen, Battle of, 68 - - Cromwell, Oliver, 43, 85, 120, 144, 157, 203, 243, 270, 271 - - Cross Foxes, 158 - - Cross Houses, 38 - - Cwm Bychan, 123, 130 - - Cwm Hir Abbey, 139 - - Cwmyoy, 255 - - Cymmer Abbey, 126 - - - Dafydd ap Gwilym, 147 - - Dale, 202 - - Darby, Abraham, 28 - - Darwin, Charles, 18, 22, 61 - - Davy Gam, 151, 152 - - Dean, Forest of, 143, 247, 262, 263 - - Dee, River, 49, 69, 70, 74, 76, 77, 85, 161, 162 - - Deganwy, 86-88, 106 - - Derwydd Station, 190 - - Despensers, 170 - - Devereux, Penelope, 200 - - Devil’s Bridge, 141 - - Dinan, de, 9 - - Dinas Bran, 70, 71 - - Dinas Mawddy, 132, 133 - - Dinmore Hill, 236 - - Dolbadarn, 92, 105 - - Doldowlod Woods, 230 - - Dolgelley, 126, 128, 129, 130, 131, 132, 152, 155, 158, 159 - - Dolwyddelan, 82, 92, 93, 94 - - Dore, River, 235 - - Dryslwyn Castle, 190 - - Dubritius, 115, 240 - - Dulas, River, 157 - - Dunraven, 177 - - Dwryd, River, 118, 119 - - Dyfi (Dovey), River, 131, 149, 152-155, 157 - - Dynevor, 187, 188, 189, 190 - - - Eaton Constantine, 26, 27, 44 - - Edeyrnion, Vale of, 77 - - Edmund, Prince, 6 - - Edward the Black Prince, 113 - - Edward the Elder, 264 - - Edward I., 21, 42, 82, 84, 86, 92, 102, 114, 120, 144, 194, 212, 236, - 237 - - Edward II., 42, 104, 170, 182 - - Edward IV., 5, 6, 120, 122, 209 - - Edward V., 6, 7 - - Egerton, Lady Alice, 8 - - Eglwyseg Rocks, 70 - - Elan Valley, 227-230 - - Eleanor, Queen, 104, 212 - - Elfreton, Henry de, 88, 120, 169 - - Eliseg’s Pillar, 76 - - Elizabeth, Queen, 89, 91, 244 - - Ellesmere, 45, 50 - - Erbistock, 45, 49, 50 - - Eric of the Bloody Axe, 264 - - Erwood, 232 - - Essex, Earl of, 14, 200 - - Ethelbert, King, 238, 239 - - Ethelfleda, 15, 53, 185 - - Ewenny, 173, 178, 179, 195 - - Ewer, Colonel, 270, 271 - - Ewyas, Vale of, 247, 255-259 - - Exmoor, 173, 177 - - - Fairbourne, 155 - - Fairfax, General, 203, 252 - - Fair Rosamund, 234 - - Feathers Hotel, Ludlow, 4, 5 - - Fishguard, 217, 218 - - Fitz-Osborne, Roger, 268, 269 - - Fitz-Osborne, William, 268 - - Fitz-Warines, 64 - - Flemings, 140, 208, 209, 219, 226 - - Flint, 85 - - Fuller, Thomas, 48 - - - Ganllwyd, Vale of, 129, 130 - - Geirionydd, Lake, 91, 149 - - Geoffrey of Monmouth, 249 - - George IV., 243 - - Gildas, 175 - - Gilpin, 242, 266 - - Giraldus Cambrensis, 100, 102, 118, 119, 198, 209, 215, 253, 254, 258 - - Glamorganshire, 173 - - Glan Dovey, 150 - - Glasbury, 232 - - Glaslyn, River, 109, 110, 118 - - Gloucester, 259 - - Glydyrs, 97 - - Glyn Ceiriog, 68 - - Glyndwr, Owen, 57, 61, 74, 77, 88, 98, 104, 106, 116, 120, 122, 127, - 128, 131, 140, 143, 144, 148, 150-152, 191, 192, 208, 226, 233, 234, - 261 - - Glyndyffws, Pass of, 78 - - Glyndyfrdwy, 77, 78 - - Glyn-Neath, 183 - - Gobowen, 64 - - Godiva, 41 - - Godstow, 234 - - Golden Valley, 235 - - Goodrich, 244, 245, 246 - - Goodrich, Vicar of, 251 - - Goodwick, 217 - - Gower, 192 - - Gower, Bishop, 199, 212, 213 - - Grey, Lord, of Ruthin, 106 - - Griffith ap Cynan, 155 - - Griffith Gryg, 147 - - Griffith ap Llewelyn, 113 - - Griffith ap Nicholas, 187 - - Griffith, Prince of Gwynedd, 87 - - Griffith, Prince of South Wales, 219 - - Grosmont, 260, 261 - - Guinevere, 166 - - Gwaelod, Plain of, 123 - - Gwenllian, daughter of the Lord Rhys, 194, 195 - - Gwenllian, mother of the Lord Rhys, 195, 214, 219 - - Gwyddno Longshanks, 124 - - Gwydir, 91 - - Gwynedd, 91, 92, 100, 112, 118, 154, 220 - - Gwynne, Nell, 69 - - - Hanmer, 49 - - Harlech, 85, 88, 116, 119-122, 128, 129 - - Harley, Lady, 58, 59 - - Harold, King, 98, 237 - - Haughmond Abbey, 36-38 - - Haughmond Hill, 34 - - Haverfordwest, 205, 208-210 - - Hawkestone, 35 - - Hay, 62, 232-234, 235, 246 - - Hazlitt, William, 22 - - Heber, Bishop, 36 - - Henllan Woods, 221 - - Henry I., 42, 209 - - Henry II., 37, 42, 50, 68, 189, 212 - - Henry III., 37, 233 - - Henry IV., 20, 34, 42, 85, 101, 120, 122, 131, 148, 192, 245, 260 - - Henry V., 34, 78, 143, 144, 152, 245, 247, 248, 260, 261 - - Henry VII., 13, 14, 61, 157, 193, 202, 206 - - Henry VIII., 37, 172, 182, 213-14 - - Herbert, George, 53 - - Herbert, Lord, of Chirbury, 52-54 - - Hereford, 143, 225, 226, 235, 236-239, 243, 246 - - Hereford, Archdeacon of, 192 - - Herefordshire, 232, 235 - - Hirwain, 183 - - Hodnet, 35, 36 - - Holyhead Road, 60, 77, 95, 161 - - Holy Mountain, 247, 252, 255 - - Honddu, River, 255, 257 - - Hookagate, 55 - - Hope Valley, 56 - - Hotspur, Harry, 34, 89 - - Howel y Fwyall, 113 - - Howel Sele, 127, 128 - - Huntsham Ferry, 245 - - - Inigo Jones, 82, 83 - - Iolo Goch, 74 - - Iorwerth, 93 - - Ireland, 121, 215 - - Ironbridge, 28, 44, 45 - - Isabella, Queen, 237 - - Ivetsey Bank, 33 - - - James I., 247 - - James II., 17 - - Jeffreys, Judge, 27, 47 - - Jeremy Taylor, 271 - - Joan, Queen, 50, 90, 101 - - John, King, 42, 50, 86, 87, 90, 98, 106, 186, 237, 263 - - John of Gaunt, 212, 237, 247 - - Johnson, Dr., 22, 27, 98 - - - Katherine of Arragon, 6 - - Kenfig, 180 - - Kemys, Sir Nicholas, 270 - - Kentchurch, 261 - - Kidwelly, 174, 194, 195 - - Kilgerran, 187, 220, 221 - - Kingsley, Charles, 109 - - Knighton, 56, 58, 137 - - Kymin, The, 245 - - Kyrle, John, 240-242 - - - Lacy, Roger de, 9 - - Lacy, William de, 256-259 - - Lampeter, 221, 222 - - Lamphey Palace, 199, 200, 213 - - Landor, Walter Savage, 259 - - Laud, Archbishop, 271 - - Ledbury, 235 - - Leicester, Earl of, 14, 91 - - Leighton-under-the-Wrekin, 27 - - Leintwardine, 56, 58, 59 - - Leland, 50, 56, 70, 105, 117, 130, 133, 146, 169, 177, 181, 192, 198, - 202, 211, 232, 237, 268, 272 - - Leofric of Mercia, 41 - - Leominster, 235 - - Letton, 234, 236 - - Lewis, Rev. Edward, 53, 54 - - Little Doward, 245 - - Little Stretton, 12 - - Liverpool Reservoir, 161 - - Llanaellraiarn, 112, 117 - - Llanbadarn Fawr, 148 - - Llanbedr, 119, 122, 123, 124, 125 - - Llanberis, Pass of, 94, 95, 105, 107, 109 - - Llanberis, Town, 105 - - Llandaff, 171-173 - - Llandeilo, 188, 190 - - Llandinam, 139 - - Llandogo, 265 - - Llandovery, 187, 222 - - Llandrindod Wells, 231 - - Llandysilio, 102 - - Llandyssil, 221 - - Llanelltyd, 126 - - Llanfaes, 101 - - Llanfair Caereinion, 133 - - Llanfair P. G., 100 - - Llanfihangel Crucorney, 255 - - Llanfrother, 240 - - Llanfyllin, 161 - - Llangadfan, 133 - - Llangadoch, 188 - - Llangollen, 60, 67, 70-73 - - Llangollen, Ladies of, 71-73 - - Llangurig, 139, 140, 226, 227 - - Llanidloes, 139 - - Llanrhaiadr, 159, 162 - - Llanrhychwyn, 90 - - Llanrwst, 82, 83 - - Llanthony, 247, 249, 255-259 - - Llanthony, Second Priory of, 259 - - Llantwit Major, 166, 173, 175, 176, 216 - - Llanwrtyd Wells, 222, 231 - - Llechryd, 221 - - Lledr Valley, 80, 92, 94 - - Llewelyn, the Great, 37, 50, 57, 82, 86, 87, 90, 91, 92, 101, 110, 113, - 127, 233 - - Llewelyn III., 102, 106, 231 - - Lleyn Peninsula, 111-118 - - Llugwy, 82, 95 - - Llyfnant Valley, 150 - - Llyn Dinas, 110 - - Llyn Gwynant, 109 - - Llyn Mymbyr, 108 - - Llyn Padarn, 105 - - Llyn Peris, 105 - - Llyn Tegid (Bala), 162 - - Llyswen, 232 - - Lockhart, 72, 73, 108 - - Londres, Maurice de, 179, 194, 219 - - Longden, 55 - - Lucy Waters, 211 - - Ludford, 4 - - Ludlow, 4-10 - - Lydstep, 198 - - - Mabinogion, 120, 167 - - Machynlleth, 148, 150-152, 155, 157 - - Maddox, Mr., 111 - - Madeley, 28, 29 - - Madoc, Prince of Powys, 70, 73, 74 - - Maelgwyn, 86, 106, 107, 154, 155 - - Maentwrog, 93, 94, 128, 129, 130 - - Mallwyd, 133 - - Malvern Hills, 245 - - Manorbier Castle, 197-199 - - Marches, Court of the, 5, 96 - - Margam, 180 - - Market Drayton, 36 - - Marrington Dingle, 55 - - Marrington Hall, 54 - - Marshbrook, 12, 55 - - Marteg, River, 227 - - Marten, Sir Henry, 271 - - Marton, 52 - - Mary, Queen, 6, 15, 244 - - Mathern, 272 - - Matholwch, King of Ireland, 120, 121 - - Matilda, Queen, 37, 257 - - Matthew of Westminster, 239, 264 - - Mawddach, River, 125, 126, 129, 152, 157, 158 - - Maxen Wledig, 168 - - Mellte, River, 183 - - Menai Bridge, 99 - - Menai Straits, 99, 102, 103 - - Menevia, 216 - - Meredyth ap Conan, 119 - - Merlin, 192, 216 - - Milburga, Princess, 39-41 - - Milford Haven, 200, 205, 208 - - Milton, 8, 138, 162 - - Minsterley, 56 - - Mochras, Point of, 124 - - Moel Offrwm, 127, 129 - - Mona, 100-102, 121 - - Monmouth, 243, 246-249 - - Monmouth, Duke of, 211 - - Monnington, 234, 261 - - Monnow, River, 261 - - Montfort Bridge, 61 - - Montfort, Simon de, 236, 237 - - Montgomery, 53, 54 - - Montgomery, Arnulph de, 201 - - Montgomery, Roger de, 13, 20, 23, 40, 41 - - Morfa Nevin, 114 - - Morfa Rhuddlan, 84 - - Mortimer, Edmund, 116, 122 - - Much Birch, 240 - - Much Wenlock, 39-42 - - Mumbles, The, 180 - - Murchard, Prince of Leinster, 215 - - Myddleton, Sir Thomas, 69 - - Myfanwy, Princess, 71, 74 - - Mynach, River, 141, 142 - - Mytton, General, 89 - - - Nannau, 127, 128 - - Nant Ffrancon, 94, 95, 97 - - Nantgarw, 170 - - Nant Gwynant, 94, 95, 109 - - Naseby, Battle of, 250 - - Neath, 173, 181, 182 - - Neath, River, 181, 182 - - Neath, Vale of, 182, 183 - - Nelson, Lord, 193 - - Nennius, 191 - - Nest, Princess, 202 - - Neuf-Marché, Bernard de, 185-187 - - Nevern, 218 - - Nevin, 112, 114, 115 - - Newbridge, 230 - - Newcastle Emlyn, 221 - - Newgale, 211 - - Newport, Mon., 166, 168, 169 - - Newport, Pembroke, 218 - - Newport, Salop, 36 - - Newtown, 138, 225 - - Nôn, 216 - - Northumberland, Earl of, 85, 116 - - - Oakengates, 33 - - Offa, 69, 238, 239 - - Offa’s Dyke, 69, 267 - - Ogwen, Lake, 96, 97 - - Ogwen, River, 98 - - Onibury, 10 - - Onny, River, 10 - - Oswestry, 62 - - Oteley, 51 - - Overton, 45, 49 - - Owen Gwynedd, 68, 99, 195, 219 - - Owen’s Mount, 78 - - - Pant-y-Groes, 73 - - Parkend, 263 - - Payer, Colonel, 203 - - Pembroke, 200-203 - - Pembrokeshire, Coast of, 204 - - Penmaenmawr, 100 - - Pennal, 153 - - Pennant, 97, 117, 160 - - Penrhyn Castle, 98 - - Penrhyndeudraeth, 94 - - Penrhyn Quarries, 98 - - Pentre Voelas, 80, 92 - - Pen-y-Groes, 118 - - Pen-y-Gwryd, 108, 109 - - Percy, Bishop, 44 - - Perrot, Sir John, 206 - - Peverels of the Peak, 63, 64 - - Piercefield Park, 267 - - Pistyll-y-Rhaiadr, 162 - - Plynlimmon, 139, 140, 222, 225 - - Ponsonby, Miss, 71 - - Pont Neath Fechan, 183 - - Pontrhydfendigaidmynachlogfawr, 100 - - Pont-y-Croes, 118 - - Pont-y-Cysylltau, 70 - - Pont-y-Pair, 82 - - Pope, 240, 241 - - Porth Clais, 216 - - Portmadoc, 111, 112, 118 - - Pumpsaint, 222 - - Pwllheli, 112, 113, 114, 117 - - - Queen’s Head Inn, 62 - - Quendritha, Queen, 239 - - - Raglan, 247, 249-252 - - Ranulph of Normandy, 237 - - Ratlinghope, 55 - - Redbrook, 265 - - Rhayader, 191, 227-230 - - Rheiddol, River, 142 - - Rhianedd, Marsh of, 107 - - Rhuddlan, 82, 83-85 - - Rhyl, 84, 114 - - Rhys, 57, 146, 194, 195, 214, 219, 220, 228 - - Rhys ap Thomas, 193, 205, 206, 207 - - Rhysgog Hill, 77 - - Richard II., 85, 86, 209 - - Richard’s Castle, 235 - - Ridgeway, The, 197, 199 - - Rivals, The, 112, 117 - - Robert of Normandy, 171 - - Robert of Rhuddlan, 86, 106 - - Roche Castle, 210 - - Roderic the Great, 188 - - Roman Gravels, 56 - - Roman Steps, 123, 130 - - Ross, 240-243, 246 - - Royal Oak, 31 - - Royal Oak Hotel, Bettws, 82 - - Royal Oak Inn, Fishguard, 218 - - Rupert, Prince, 15, 50 - - Ruskin, 73 - - - Sabrina, 138 - - St. Alkmund’s, Shrewsbury, 15, 16 - - St. Alkmund’s, Whitchurch, 47, 48 - - St. Arvan’s, 267 - - St. Beuno, 117, 118 - - St. Briavel’s, 263 - - St. Brynach, Cross of, 218 - - St. Chad’s (New), Shrewsbury, 22 - - St. Chad’s (Old), Shrewsbury, 16, 17, 21 - - St. Collen’s, Llangollen, 73 - - St. David, 115, 117, 148, 175, 216, 240, 256 - - St. David’s, 115, 210, 211, 217 - - St. Deiniol, 99 - - St. Donat’s, 173, 176, 177 - - St. Germanus, 191 - - St. Illtyd, 175, 176 - - St. Mary’s, Shrewsbury, 16, 17, 18 - - St. Padarn, 148 - - St. Patrick, 215, 216 - - St. Peter’s, Carmarthen, 193 - - St. Samson, 176 - - St. Teilo, 171 - - St. Tewdric, 272 - - Scott, Sir Walter, 57, 72, 108 - - Scudamore, Alice, 261 - - Seisyllts (Cecils), 253, 254 - - Seithenyn, 124 - - Severn, 13, 25, 26, 28, 45, 61, 133, 137, 139, 226, 265, 267, 272 - - Siabod, Moel, 81, 93, 96 - - Sidney, Ambrozia, 8, 9 - - Sidney, Philip, 8, 18, 19, 200 - - Sidney, Sir Henry, 8, 19, 20 - - Shelley, 111, 230 - - Shelley, Harriet, 111, 230 - - Shelton Oak, 61 - - Shifnal, 29 - - Shrewsbury, 12-24, 45, 60 - - Shrewsbury Abbey, 13, 22-24 - - Shrewsbury, Battle of, 21, 43 61, 191 - - Shrewsbury Castle, 20, 21 - - Shropshire, 1-64, 134, 162 - - Skenfrith, 260, 262 - - Skirrid Fawr, 255 - - Snowdon, 81, 96, 100, 107, 108, 109, 122 - - Snowdonia, 80, 94, 100, 108, 111 - - Solva, 211 - - Southerndown, 177 - - Southey, 259 - - Speech House, 263 - - Spenser, 243 - - Stack Rocks, 204 - - Steele, Richard, 193 - - Stephen, King, 20, 37 - - Stokesay Castle, 10, 11 - - Strata Florida, 141, 145-148 - - Strongbow, Richard, 144, 269 - - Sugar Loaf Mountain, 255 - - Swallow Falls, 95 - - Swift, Dean, 47 - - Sycharth, 77, 78 - - Symond’s Yat, 226, 245, 246, 264 - - - Talbot, 1st Earl of Shrewsbury, 48, 245, 260 - - Taliesin, 91, 107, 149, 175 - - Tal-y-Bont, 149 - - Tan-y-Bwlch, 94, 129 - - Tal-y-Llyn, 155, 158 - - Teify, River, 145, 219, 220, 221 - - Telford, 21, 28, 43, 60, 79, 97, 99 - - Teme, River, 4, 5, 137 - - Tenby, 178, 195-197 - - Tintern, 225, 226, 246, 247, 265-267, 272 - - Tintern Parva, 265 - - Tomen-y-Bala, 160 - - Tong, 29, 30 - - Tostig, 237 - - Towy, River, 187, 188 - - Towyn, 155, 156 - - Traeth Maelgwyn, 154 - - Traeth Mawr, 111, 118, 119 - - Trawscoed, 145, 148 - - Trawsfynydd, 129 - - Trecastle, 187 - - Trefriew, 90, 91 - - Tremadoc, 111, 118 - - Tre-Taliesin, 149 - - Tryfaen, 97 - - Tudor, Edmund, 214 - - Tudor, Jasper, 172 - - Tudor, Owen, 237 - - Tyn-y-Groes, 129 - - Tyn-y-Nant, 79 - - - Upper Corris, 158 - - Upper Wye, 226 - - Uriconium, 25, 26 - - Usk, River, 166, 187, 254 - - - Valle Crucis, 71, 73-76 - - Vaughan, Dean, Tomb of, 173 - - Vaughans of Dunraven, 178 - - Vernon, Dorothy, 30 - - Vernon, Sir Henry, 30 - - Vickers, Dick, 79 - - Vortigern, 190, 191 - - Vyrnwy, Lake, 161 - - - Wales, Mid, 137-162 - - Wales, North, 67-134 - - Wales, South, 165-222 - - Walpole, Horace, 52 - - Walton, Isaac, 54 - - Warwick, Dowager Lady, 69 - - Watling Street, 33 - - Watt, James, 230 - - Wellington, 33 - - Welshpool, 133, 134 - - Wem, 45, 47 - - Wenlock Priory, 38-42 - - Westbury, 52 - - Whitchurch, 45, 47 - - Whitney, 234 - - Whittington, 62-64 - - Widemarsh, Hereford, 236 - - William I., 212, 268, 269 - - William II., 212, 215 - - William of Malmesbury, 15, 39, 257 - - Wilton, 243, 244 - - Windsor, Gerald de, 201, 205 - - Wnion, River, 126 - - Worcester, 2nd Earl of, 272 - - Worcester, 1st Marquis of, 251, 252 - - Worthen, 52 - - Wrekin, 12 - - Wroxeter, 25 - - Wyaston Leys, 245 - - Wye, 69, 139, 140, 222, 226, 265, 268, 272 - - Wye, Valley of the, 225-272 - - Wyndcliff, 267 - - Wynnes of Gwydir, 82, 89, 91, 95, 96 - - - York, Archbishop of, 89 - - York, Richard Duke of, 22 - - Yr Eifl, 112, 117 - - Ysgubor-y-coed, 150 - - Ystradfflur, 145-148 - - Ystwith, River, 145 - - Y Wyddfa, 107 - - - UNWIN BROTHERS, LIMITED, PRINTERS, WOKING AND LONDON. - - -FOOTNOTES: - -[1] Latin inscription on the wall that used to surround the -tree.--DUKE’S VERSION. - -[2] Since these words were written there have been extensive -excavations at Haughmond, by which important disclosures have been made. - -[3] Transactions of the Archæological Society of Shropshire. - -[4] Transactions of the Archæological Society of Shropshire. - -[5] _Gentleman’s Magazine_, August, 1906. - -[6] “The History of Fulk Fitz-Warine,” translated by Alice Kemp-Welch. - -[7] I have seen somewhere that the original name of these falls was not -Rhaiadr y Wennol, or Swallow Falls, but Rhaiadr Eweynol, or Foaming -Falls. This seems probable: but Borrow accepted the former version, and -he was a stern critic in such matters. - -[8] Quotations from the “Mabinogion” are from Lady Charlotte Guest’s -translation. - -[9] _Sic._ - -[10] “The Book of South Wales,” by the Rev. S. Baring-Gould. - -[11] “The March and Borderland of Wales,” by A. G. Bradley. - -[12] Rev. S. Baring-Gould, “The Book of South Wales.” - -[13] “The Norman Horse-shoe” (Sir Walter Scott.) - - - - - * * * * * * - - - - -Transcriber's note: - -Every effort has been made to replicate this text as faithfully as -possible, including some inconsistencies in hyphenation. Some minor -corrections of spelling have been made. - - - -***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MOTOR TOURS IN WALES & THE BORDER -COUNTIES*** - - -******* This file should be named 53152-0.txt or 53152-0.zip ******* - - -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: -http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/5/3/1/5/53152 - - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part -of this license, apply to copying and distributing Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm -concept and trademark. 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