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extending to the right, formerly sheltered those employed on the
canal or fosse, in supplying the garrison with stores. This last
singular and irregular work is called “the Gunner’s Walk,” and several
large rings, still firmly fixed in the masonry, very sufficiently show
that here the supply barges of the garrison were anciently moored.
The envelope is separated from the keep or citadel by a broad
intermural ambulatory, extending entirely round; a second entrance
of fine proportion opens a communication with the inner court,
beneath a spacious castellated building, the ground plan of which
may yet be distinctly traced. This is a level area one hundred and
ninety feet square, from the four corners of which small triangles are
cut off by the enclosing wall. On the north-west side of the court,
projecting from the curtain wall, stands a stately edifice, spiritedly
and gracefully designed. The front consists of two stories; the upper
adorned with five pointed windows of large dimensions, furnished
with architraves of cut stone, and lighting the great council hall,
which measures seventy feet in length: the basement is pierced by
four smaller windows and the principal entrance door, while the
whole is terminated by two beautiful round towers, with tapering
bases, in the style of modern architectural pavilions. A ground plan
precisely corresponding with that of the council hall may be traced
amidst the ruins on the opposite side of the court, but how far their
decorations resembled each other must continue to be matter of
conjecture. To all these ancient castles a chapel is uniformly found
attached, a circumstance which some historians attribute to the
superstition, others, more charitably, to the piety of our ancestors.
The little ecclesiastic edifice included within the walls of this castle
rather argues the possession of the latter quality, from its
unostentatious style and circumscribed dimensions. The walls and
roof are still entire, the former decorated with pointed recesses, and
the latter groined and supported by ribs springing from pilasters;
while three lancet-windows, or rather loop-holes, at the eastern end,
appear to have been the only means for the admission of light, that
this modest little oratory ever possessed. From the thickness of the
wall surrounding the inner court a gallery is gained, by means of
which communication is preserved with every part of the citadel, and
several square apertures, opening into recesses in the side walls of
the gallery, are conjectured, by Grose the antiquarian, to have been
the mouths of so many dungeons, yawning for their prey.
Part of the inner area is desecrated into a tennis court: desecrated,
for a ruin is a sacred thing, rooted for ages in the soil, identified with
it, and considered as a work of nature rather than of art. It is a
deposit, of which the very proprietor is esteemed but the guardian,
for the amusement, admiration, and instruction of posterity.

HOLYHEAD CHURCH.
This is the principal seaport in the Island of Anglesea, as well as the
most important packet station for Irish communication on the
western coast. The arrival of the steam packet is the chief incident
of each day, and in auspicious weather a fourth part of the
inhabitants are frequently assembled as spectators. The situation of
the town is naturally exposed and bleak, but it has attained an
appearance of respectability, cleanliness, and something of
commerce, by the formation of an excellent asylum harbour, where
vessels of any burden may take shelter, and by the completion of the
Parliamentary road, which, commencing at Shrewsbury, passes
through the Cambrian Alps, and terminates its useful object at the
pier of Holyhead. The town and its local circumstances do not
constitute an agreeable landscape, but there are still many objects
of deep interest here, which deserve a separate and individual
examination. From the summit of the mountain overhanging the
town, a prospect extensive and gratifying may be enjoyed; the
highest apex, just seven hundred feet above the sea, commands a
view of the whole Snowdonian chain of mountains, apparently rising
from the plains of Anglesea, at a distance of twenty miles; while to
the west the Wicklow mountains are seen, upon a clear day, to hang
over the green waters of the Irish sea. The ancient church is not
without its attractions to the inquiring mind; it occupies the site of a
monastery founded by Saint Cybi in the fourth century, and bore on
its north wall this inscription, “Sancte Kybi ora pro nobis.” Part of
the churchyard wall is of Roman architecture, and was pierced with
small square apertures, a practice usual with that people in all mural
enclosures. The probability of the Romans having advanced so far
across the island, is increased by the discovery of coins and other
reliques of that warlike nation in the vicinity of Holyhead. King
George the Fourth sailed for Ireland from this port in the year 1821,
an event commemorated in a spirited manner by the erection of a
fine open colonnade thrown across the pier, near to the spot where
his Majesty embarked.
 CAERNARVONSHIRE.

This is not only the most mountainous and picturesque of the six
northern shires of Wales, but retains more distinct characteristics of
a peculiar people, and greater primitiveness of customs and manners
than any of the remaining counties. Here the Cambrian Alps are
seen in all the dignity and sublimity attached to space restricted only
by the grand natural boundaries of mountain, lake, wood, and river.
The district included between the mountains and the sea, as well as
the whole promontory of Lleyn, consists of fertile land, enjoys an
agreeable and cheerful aspect, and is adorned with the seats of
many wealthy landed proprietors. From the highest part of this
inclining plain, a surface, possessing an endless variety of form,
swells with inconceivable rapidity, nor ceases until it attains the vast
height of three thousand seven hundred and fifty-nine feet above
the sea in its ambitious throws. This point, called “Y Wyddffa,” the
Conspicuous, is the summit of Snowdon, and the loftiest pinnacle in
ancient Britain. Two neighbouring rivals, Carneddau David and
Llewellyn, seem to dispute the lofty throne, and reach within a
hundred feet of the ancient Cairn which crowns the hoary head of
the great monarch of Snowdonia. The greatest length of
Caernarvonshire, i.e. in a direction north and south, is forty-five
miles, and its mean average breadth about twenty. It is watered by
several rivers, whose rocky beds abound in noble cataracts, as well
as in scenery of the most delicate and fascinating character. The
Conway is probably the richest in each kind of subject; the Llugwy,
Lledder, and Ogwen, preserve their bold romantic natures until their
noisy spirits are “deep in the bosom of the ocean buried.” Perhaps
the placid lakes, notwithstanding the noiseless tenor of their lives,
may find more worshippers than even the Conway’s majestic tide.
Llynnyau Gwynant and Crafuant are the most graceful, perfect
compositions; Llynnyau Ogwen and Idwel the most sublime.

The mountainous unequal surface of this county has not militated

against the introduction of new and admirable lines of road. It is
probable that the facility of obtaining a very durable stone, at the
cost of removal only, has encouraged the construction of the most
beautiful and interesting public avenues in the kingdom. The
Holyhead commissioners have carried the British Simplon through
the flinty rocks of Ogwen and along the wind-swept valley of
Francòn. The county engineers have diminished the terrors of
Penmaen Mawr by descending from the beetling cliff to a judicious
and secure path along the margin of the sea; and the new road
through the pass of Llanberis has rendered these scenes of “pleasing
horror” accessible to the most timid and nervous, who are frequently
the best and truest appreciators of such mysterious and sublime
formations.

CAERNARVON CASTLE.
Caernarvon is an ancient borough town, a favourite watering place,
and enjoys the benefit of a considerable export trade in slates of the
best quality, besides the supply of the interior with wines, coal,
earthenware, &c. It is surrounded by walls, the space enclosed
resembling the form of a harp, the royal castle being the head or
termination of the upright arm, and a fine, broad, marine terrace
outside it, now constitutes the chief promenade of inhabitants and
visiters. The local position of Caernarvon is extremely beautiful,—
the town walls, and long terrace are washed by the sea in front; the
river Seiont flows round the castle walls, and meets the waters of
the Mænai beneath its lofty turrets, while Coed-Helen Mount
impends over the town on the south, Twt-Hill on the North, and Moel
Eilio and the Snowdonian range cross and terminate the distant
view. There is a striking similitude between the natural position of
Algiers and that of the town of Caernarvon, as seen from the water.
Twt Hill corresponds with the Jewish cemetery; there is a mount also
hanging over Algiers on the right, and the terrace of Caernarvon is
an exact miniature of the famous thousand-gun battery of the
Turkish city, though happily deficient in such a supply of dread
artillery.
The name Caernarfon is compounded of the British terms Caer yn
ar-ffon, or Mon, the citadel in Arfon, or in the district opposite to
Mon (Anglesea). It was the ancient Segontium of the Romans, and
was the only post of consequence in this part of Cambria over which
the imperial eagle flapped his wings. Some fragments of a Roman
wall are still distinguishable near the town, and outposts, roads, and
encampments yet survive in the immediate vicinity.
Upon the final subjugation of the ancient Britons, in the year 1282,
King Edward the First commenced the building of a noble castle at
Caernarvon. This he designed for his royal palace; and mixing up
some soothing artifices with the vigorous measures of a conquering
prince, caused his faithful and much beloved queen to be brought
hither, at an interesting moment of her life, where she gave birth to
Edward, afterwards sirnamed Caernarvon. This was the second wily
stratagem practised upon the obstinate Welshmen by King Edward.
His first attempt to render their fetters less galling, was made by
assimilating the form of the fortifications of Conway and Caernarvon,
which were actually species of state prisons, to the likeness and
disposition of the arms of a harp.
Caernarvon is the largest of Edward’s castles, and is probably still
the most entire; the river Seiont and the Mænai strait washed the
walls on two sides, and a deep fosse, originally crossed by a
drawbridge, completed the watery circuit. The entrance possesses
an air of much grandeur. It is a lofty pointed arch, defended by
noble flanking towers, and adorned with a colossal figure of the
conqueror himself, standing in a canopied niche, in the act of
unsheathing his sword. The interior, which is represented in the
accompanying view, is much more ruined. The apartments for the
accommodation of the garrison are quite buried in rubbish. Of the
entrance gates, a fine ribbed archway, with the grooves of four
successive portcullises, are still distinct; the mural gallery is complete
nearly round the whole circuit of the castle, and the outer walls of
the royal apartments, with the enriched mullions of the windows, yet
unbroken. From the walls of the great western towers, light delicate
turrets, of polygonal forms, appear to spring; one of these is
accessible by stone stairs to the summit, which is adorned with the
figure of an eagle, said to have been brought hither from Segontium
by the Saxon king, but more probably a species of ornament
suggested to the founder by the proximity of the Roman citadel, and
intended to be complimentary to the inhabitants. From the
observatory, on the top of the eagle tower, there is an extensive
prospect over the Island of Anglesea, the Bay of Caernarvon, and
the low lands along the base of the mountains, but it is wholly
commanded by the hills on either side of the town.
The graceful archway, called Queen Eleanor’s gate, does not appear
to have been a portal of entrance. From this a platform may have
been lowered, on which the queen mother appeared holding forth
her royal infant towards the assembled chieftains, and, after the
performance of this great mockery, restored to its secure fastenings
in the wall; but no satisfactory evidence appears of any entrance
doors, except the chief one mentioned previously, and the water-
gate at the western end of the castle. The Newborough, Bulkeley,
and Mostyn families have successively been vested with the
government of the town and constableship of the castle, cares now
entrusted to the Marquis of Anglesea.
The town walls are still perfect, and interesting to the antiquary. A
handsome assembly room has been fitted up within the towers of
the principal gate, at the expense of Sir Watkyn W. Wynne, Bart. An
elegant chapel of ease occupies the northern angle of the walls, and
includes one of the large rounders; and a beautiful barbacan, in
advance of the water-gate, is in the most entire preservation.
Caernarvon is situated in the parish of Llanbeblig, and the parish
church, an ancient edifice, dedicated to Saint Publicius, stands at the
distance of about one mile from the castle.

SNOWDON, FROM CAPEL CURIG.

The Cairn, or Carnedd, on the summit of Snowdon is elevated three
thousand seven hundred and fifty-nine feet above the level of the
sea. This is the highest of the north Cambrian chain, and still
supposed to be the loftiest hill in Great Britain. It raises its grand
pinnacle above an extensive mountain range, constituting the
ancient forest of Snowdonia, which was felled by the Saxon
monarchs to build their navy. And, though not a tree or stem adorns
its scathed brow, yet so lately as the reign of Henry the Eighth, the
civil list contained this item, “Annual Fee of the Chief Forester of
Snowdon, 11l. 8s.” a sum by no means inconsiderable at the period
alluded to.
The great mountain region, of which Snowdon constitutes the
leading feature, and to which it lends its Saxon epithet of Snowy,
originates northward in the Penmaenmawr, and spreading over great
part of Caernarvonshire, returns again and dips into the sea in the
Reifels, three beautiful conical mountains overhanging the bay of
Caernarvon. These hills bound a prospect from the centre of
Anglesea, picturesque, sublime, and graceful, but, like many scenes
in human life, upon a nearer approach, are comfortless, forlorn, and
desolate. The ambition of most tourists is to attain the dizzy height
of Snowdon, and, although the approaches are numerous, none are
free from difficulty, and some even attended with danger. From the
melancholy vale of Llanberis the height is greater in proportion as
the surface of the vale is depressed. The access from Llyn Cwellyn
is less difficult, but more tedious than others. The charms of
Beddgelert compensate for the remoteness of the goal, while the
elevation of Capel Curig is to be subtracted from the whole absolute
height, leaving the inquisitive tourist a large balance of perpendicular
ascent in his favour. Snowdon from Capel Curig presents a grand
spectacle; the vale in the foreground watered by two fine pools, and
on each side skreens are formed of huge dark mountains, enclosing
a great vista, leading the eye directly up against the shattered front
of Snowdon. As the point of view approaches, the aerial complexion
of the great pinnacled mass is lost, and new features, new wonders,
are successively displayed. Illusions here are ever varying. The
transient circumstances of a thunder cloud,—the streaming of a
sunbeam, casting partial gleams upon the precipices,—the dark
shadows that follow and figure out unforeseen inequalities,—then
sweeping over the mountain’s brow, involving all in momentary
obscurity,—and, lastly, resigning all to the full possession of the solar
beams, all contribute in a most happy manner to augment the
astonishment and gratification of the spectator.
The view from the summit is inexpressibly grand, although much
impeded by the elevation and proximity of other mountains,
Carneddau David and Llewellyn particularly,—the former being three
thousand four hundred and twenty-seven feet above the sea, the
latter three thousand four hundred and sixty-nine. It however
commands an extensive prospect towards South Wales and the sea,
and displays a wonderful chart of all North Wales to the spectator.
The view at first is incomplete and scarce intelligible, but gradually
distinct and separate hills unfold themselves; the broken, abrupt,
and intersecting outlines seem now and then to retire, as if by some
supreme and invisible working, and permit an oblique glimpse into a
deep vale below. Frequently a gigantic mass just shows itself by a
distant partial gleam, and after awakening the highest expectation,
leaves the fancy “to paint the forms of things unseen.” The shape or
form of Snowdon is uncommon and picturesque. Its ground plan or
base, if such terms be applicable or just, is cruciformed, each arm
supporting a great mural precipice, along the ridges of which lie the
perilous pathways to the highest point, and in the intervening angles
sleep dark, cold pools. The summit ridge, when seen from a
distance, appears of a triple-headed form, like the impression of a
vast festoon of clouds just dropped upon it. The points or ridges are
usually called Wyddffa, Crib y-Distyll and Crib-Coch, or the red
ridge. The passage of the last is hazardous, from the shortness and
slippery quality of the grass at those seasons of the year when the
mountain may be approached. It is from this causeway that two
stones thrown from the same spot, one to either side, and with a
moderate force, will reach, it is said, an interval of three thousand
feet asunder at the period of their rest from falling.

BANGOR CATHEDRAL.
The city of Bangor is one of the most prosperous and improving
seaports on the Welsh coast. Its position, at the embouchure of the
Cegin river and entrance of the Mænai strait, has given it a natural
commercial superiority, an advantage spiritedly and wisely improved
by the principal proprietor in the vicinity. The city occupies a narrow
piece of ground, bounded on the east by a precipitous hill, and on
the west by the bishop’s lands and the Mænai strait. Extension is
inconvenient, from the necessity of lengthening the main avenue,
already one mile long, whenever additional houses in a proper
thoroughfare are required. Handsome assembly-rooms are
constructed over the market hall: convenient lodging houses are
erected in the lower part of the city, and many elegant villas in the
immediate neighbourhood; besides which, the numerous visiters
who frequent this agreeable spot, either for the benefit of sea
bathing, the bracing influence of a mountain breeze, or the
gratification of examining the noble design of the Mænai Bridge,
have further accommodation afforded them at the spacious and
elegant inns provided for their reception. H. D. Pennant, Esq. the
heir and representative of the noble house of Penrhyn, is the chief
proprietor and munificent patron of this place. To him, and to his
amiable predecessor, Lady Penrhyn, this neighbourhood is indebted
for the stability of its trade, as well as for the rapidity of its growth.
The slate quarries of Dolawen, whence the Bangor slates, as they
are generally called, are brought, are about seven miles distant from
the sea-side. Here from fifteen hundred to two thousand hands are
constantly engaged in quarrying metal, and fashioning it into slates.
In the process of manufacturing the aid of machinery is embraced,
and the powerful press of Bramah is used for crushing and splitting
the metal. When formed into the classes or sizes designated by the
fanciful distinctions of Queens, Duchesses, Countesses, and Ladies,
they are transported by a rail-road of seven miles in length, (one of
the earliest introduced into Wales,) to the quay of Port Penrhyn, the
termination and consummation of the great and enterprising
scheme, accomplished at individual risk and expense, to promote the
conveyance of the Bangor slates to all the markets of Europe and
America. Whatever modern importance Bangor possesses is
attributable to the successful conduct of these quarries, and its
commercial value will always be found to rise and fall with the
prosperity of this trade alone.
Immediately adjoining the north-eastern extremity of the principal
street, the noble demesne of Mr. Pennant originates, and spreads
over a wooded surface of considerable area. His castle occupies the
site of a palace, erected in the year 720, by Roderic Moelwynog, the
last British Prince of Wales, who flourished in the eighth century.
The ancient palace was destroyed by Meredydd ap Owain in the year
728, and not rebuilt until some time in the reign of Henry the Sixth,
when Gwillim ap Gryffydd raised a stately castle here. This last
building endured for many years, and was ultimately subjected to
renovation by the hand of a Wyatt; but even this judicious
restoration was unable to render it suitable to the rapidly
accumulating wealth which the hills of Dolawen poured out upon the
board of their fortunate possessor. From a noble design of Mr.
Hopper, in a bold and pure Saxon style, a castle has been erected on
the ancient site. The style is uncommon, rarely introduced in
domestic architecture, and applicable only where the scale is great
and the means ample. In this instance the materials, a beautiful
dark marble, contribute much to increase the dignity and grandeur
of the design, upon which probably one hundred thousand pounds
have already been expended. A fine specimen of the Hirlâs, or
ancient British drinking horn, bearing the initials of Piers Gryfydd,
graven upon the silver mounting, is preserved in the castle of
Penrhyn. The castle of Bangor is not to be confounded with that of
Penrhyn just described. It was founded some time in the reign of
William Rufus, by Hugh, Earl of Chester, but, little of its history
survives, and even the ground plan now is with difficulty traced.
The process of quarrying, dressing, and preparing slates for public
market, and the fanciful titles by which the various sizes are now
uniformly designated, are very happily, playfully, and truly described
in the following irregular verses. They are the production of the late
Mr. Leycester, who was for many years a judge on the North Wales
circuit, while the old system of judicature was tolerated.

It has truly been said, as we all must deplore,

That Grenville and Pitt made peers by the score;
But now ’tis asserted, unless I have blundered,
There’s a man who makes peeresses here by the hundred;
He regards neither Grenville, nor Portland, nor Pitt,
But creates them at once without patent or writ.
By the stroke of the hammer, without the king’s aid,
A Lady, or Countess, or Duchess is made.
Yet high is the station from which they are sent,
And all their great titles are got by descent;
And when they are seen in a palace or shop,
Their rank they preserve, and are still at the top.
Yet no merit they claim from their birth or connexion,
But derive their chief worth from their native complexion.
And all the best judges prefer, it is said,
A Countess in blue to a Duchess in red.
This Countess or Lady, though crowds may be present,
Submits to be dress’d by the hands of a peasant;
And you’ll see, when her Grace is but once in his clutches,
With how little respect he will handle a Duchess.
Close united they seem, and yet all who have tried them,
Soon discover how easy it is to divide them.
No spirit have they, they are thin as a lath,
The Countess wants life and the Duchess is flat.
No passion or warmth to the Countess is known,
And her Grace is as cold and as hard as a stone;
And I fear you will find, if you watch them a little,
That the Countess is frail, and the Duchess is brittle;
Too high for a trade, without any joke,
Though they never are bankrupts, they often are broke.
And though not a soul either pilfers or cozens,
They are daily shipped off and transported by dozens.
 In France, jacobinical France, we have seen
How thousands have bled by the fierce guillotine;
But what’s the French engine of death to compare
To the engine which Greenfield and Bramah prepare,
That democrat engine, by which we all know
Ten thousand great Duchesses fall at a blow.
And long may that engine its wonders display,
Long level with ease all the rocks in its way,
Till the vale of Nant Francon of slates is bereft,
Nor a Lady, nor Countess, nor Duchess be left.

The see of Bangor extends over all Anglesea, and parts of

Caernarvonshire, Denbigh, and Montgomery. It was most probably
founded, or at all events a monastic establishment was formed here,
in the year 525, by St. Deiniol, who was at first abbot, and
afterwards bishop. The name Bangor may signify “the White Choir,”
or the “High Choir,” and is found applied to an ecclesiastic institution
in Flintshire, as well as to a famous religious house in the County of
Down, in the North of Ireland. The subject of this description was
distinguished by the prefix “Fawr,” or great, to mark its superiority.
The original church existed to the time of the Saxon intrusion, when
it was wholly demolished by that fierce and relentless people. In the
year 1212 it was restored in a style of much magnificence by John,
King of England, but it was again much injured in 1247, during the
contentions between Henry the Third of England and the Welsh
nobles. The demon of destruction once more visited this sacred
edifice in the year 1402, when it was wholly reduced to ashes by a
violent conflagration. This occurred in the civil wars, kindled by the
brave and artful chieftain, Owain Glandwr. For ninety years there
was no resuscitation of the embers; no pious prelate wore the
wealthy mitre of this see, who preferred the honour of the church to
all earthly considerations, until the reign of Henry the Seventh, when
the learned and amiable Bishop Deane commenced the reedification
of the cathedral, by erecting the present beautiful choir at his own
expense. From an inscription over the western entrance, it appears
that the tower and nave were added by Bishop Skiffington, in 1532,
whose heart was deposited in Bangor Cathedral, but his body
removed to the Cistercian monastery of Beaulieu in Hampshire, of
which he had previously been abbot. The conduct of Bishop
Bulkeley has afforded matter of much disputation amongst
ecclesiastical writers: it is asserted, on one side, that this prelate
dishonoured the mitre, which should have graced his brow, by
spoliating the see of its estates, and the cathedral of its plate and
bells; others assure us, with great earnestness, that Bulkeley did not
alienate or abstract the property of the see, but that, on the
contrary, he was a benefactor of the church and diocese, and that
this was a calumny raised against the church by Godwin, who
thought proper to direct his venomous shaft against the
establishment through the character of this respectable prelate.
Dr. Warren re-edified and improved the whole structure; and during
the long incumbency of Dr. Majendie, still farther decorations were
accomplished. The choir is handsome, though wanting height, and
is lighted by a noble pointed window with stone mullions. The
eastern transept serves as a parish church, in which Welsh service is
performed; and the nave has lately been converted into a place of
worship, for the celebration of the service in English, the choir being
found inconveniently small during the summer season. Though
several prelates were interred here, no monumental honours have
been paid them. Morgan requires neither brass or marble to make
his fame endure; he has erected a more eternal monument, and
established a more immortal name by his learned and laborious
translation of the Bible into his native tongue. An effigiated tomb,
occupying an intermural canopy in the south transept, is, by some
unaccountable tradition, said to belong to Owain Glandwr: if so, it
can only be a cenotaph, as that chieftain was entombed at
Monington, in Herefordshire, where he expired. The most likely
appropriation of this ancient monument is to Owain Gwynedd, who
was interred here with his brother Cadwalader, in the year 1169.
The investigation of this little historic fact exposes to the light the
unrelenting spirit of fanaticism and bigotry. Owain Gwynedd had
displeased the hierarchy by marrying his own cousin-german, for
which offence his very bones were pursued with the maledictions
and hatred of Thomas à Becket, who ordered his remains to be
disinterred and removed from the chancel into the cemetery of the
cathedral. His servants appear to have possessed a more tender
and christian feeling than the great pontiff himself, and in the
execution of their pitiful task caused a subterranean passage to be
made from the vault into the earth without, thereby evading in some
degree the sacrilegious charge of exhumation. In the year 1831 a
white marble tablet, bearing a latin inscription, written with much
spirit and feeling, was erected here to the memory of Goronwy
Owen, a Welsh bard, who flourished in the last century. He was
born in the county of Anglesea in the year 1722, and the little story
of his life is beautifully and briefly told in the concluding words of his
epitaph.

“Nullus eum patronus exciperet, id quod sui negârunt,

Apud exteros quærens perfugium in Transatlanticis terris,
Obscurus vixit, ignotus obiit.”

Which may be translated,

At home he felt no patronising hand,

Then sought its warmth in Transatlantic land,
Where bowed with poverty, by years o’ergrown,
He sunk neglected, as he lived unknown.

DOLWYDELLAN CASTLE.
Few parts of ancient Britain, so consecrated by historic recollections,
and endowed with so many natural graces, appear to be less known
than the vale and castle of Dolwydellan. The former is nearly a
Welsh cwm, or hollow, but more expansive than that term in general
implies, bounded on all sides by hills of fanciful and picturesque
forms, and sheltered on the west by the beautiful leaning pyramid of
Moel Siabod, at whose base the little village reposes in tranquillity.
Little rocky eminences, covered with copse-wood or stunted oak,
decorate the enclosure of the vale, while a scene of simple greatness
envelopes the whole.
In the centre of the valley, and on the summit of an isolated rock, on
one side precipitous and inaccessible, and on the other easily
defensible, stand the remains of the ancient British castle of
Dolwydellan. It was a royal residence, and a place of defence,
though now “its walls are desolate; the gray moss whitens the
stones; the fox looks out from the window; and rank grass waves
round its head.” The castle consisted of two square towers, each
containing three stories, connected by a centre, and enveloped by a
curtain wall, enclosing the whole superior surface of the rock. The
style of building resembles that discoverable in Dolbadarn and the
other British castles, the counter-arches being pointed, and of flat
shingle. The verdant area encompassing the ruins is usually
browsed by a few head of cattle, forming a happy combination, and
resembling the compositions of Bergham and other great masters of
like style, in whose pictures cattle and ruins are made to lend their
graces to each other.
Jorwerth Drwyndwn, or Edward, sirnamed “Broken Nose,” son of
Owen Gwynedd, by the Lady Gwladys, was lord of Dolwydellan
Castle about the year 1169, and here Llewellyn ap Jorwerth, better
known to the historian as Llewellyn the Great, was born. His father’s
claims to the throne of Wales were disallowed in consequence of the
deformity of his countenance, but the martial daring of the son
obtained for him the possession of that diadem which the barbarity
and folly of the times had withheld from the father. Llewellyn was
acknowledged sovereign prince of Wales A.D. 1184; and after a
brilliant, glorious, and eventful reign of fifty-six years, embittered
only by domestic calamities, was released from the cares of this
world, and interred with great ceremony in the abbey of Conway in
the year 1240. Amongst the grants made during the usurpation of
the Duke of Glo’ster, is found one of Dolwydellan Castle to Sir Ralph
Berkinnet, of the county of Chester, knight, chamberlain of North
Wales. In the third year of King Henry the Seventh, an act of
resumption was passed, whereby all the grants of Richard the Third
were recalled, except the lease of the (ffrydd) fryth of Dolwydellan.
At this time lived Meredydd ap Jevan ap Robert, who had been
enriched by a bequest of Crug in Caernarvonshire, from his foster
father, and who had farther augmented his treasures by a marriage
with the daughter of William Gryffydd ap Robin. This child of
fortune, after a short residence on his newly acquired estate of Crug,
removed into his native country of Cessailgyfarch, and there
purchased the lease of the castle and frydd [34] of Dolwydellan from
the executors of Sir Ralph Berkinnett, part of the castle being then in
a habitable condition. After many years residence in the old castle,
Meredydd erected a small, but exceedingly substantial house, in the
close valley or cwm of Penanmen, the walls, staircase, and roof of
which are at this day in good preservation, and afford a comfortable
dwelling to the tenantry of his descendants.
The state of this country at his first entering upon possession was so
lawless, that Meredydd, although guarded by “twenty tall archers,”
dared not make known when he went to church or elsewhere, or go
or return by the same way through the woods and defiles, lest he
should be waylaid. To protect and strengthen himself he filled his
tenements with “tall and able” men, and fixed others of similar
prowess in arms on the king’s lands adjoining; one of these, William
ap Robert, was placed at Pencraig Inco, for which he paid a relief to
the king of ten shillings and fourpence, and his posterity, the Davises
of Cyffdû, are still in possession of this ancient estate.
As a further security against interruption in attendance upon divine
worship, he threw down the old church, then standing upon a little
eminence called Bryn-y-beddau, about three hundred yards from the
present church, and erected a new one in its stead. This site was
chosen in order that the house of Penanmen and the church of
Dolwydellan might both be brought within the ken of a sentinel, to
be placed upon a rock called Craig y Big, overhanging the narrow
entrance of Penanmen Cwm, who was to give the alarm, if either
church or house should be assailed.
In this manner he continued to defend himself and organize the less
powerful gentry and free-holders, until at last he counted around his
banner seven score tall bowmen, accoutred with an armolette, a
good steel cap, a short sword and dirk, together with their bows and
arrows. Most of them also were furnished with horses and hunting
spears, and were sufficiently matched against the robbers and
outlaws of the district, who exceeded one hundred in number, all too
well mounted and arrayed.
Besides the “good work,” as it was called, of extirpating banditti,
Meredydd also served his royal master abroad, and was an officer of
rank at the siege of Tournay. On his return to his native land, he
purchased the seat of Gwydyr from Dafydd ap Howell Coytmor, and
erected what is called the Lower House, but more properly that
portion of it called the “Hall of Meredydd.” Placing a tenant in his
strong house of Penanmen, and abandoning the old castle to the
owls and wolves, he settled in his new house at Gwydyr, where he
departed this life, in peace and honour, on the eighteenth day of
March, 1525, aged fifty-five: his remains were deposited in the
church of Dolwydellan, which he had caused to be erected at his
own expense, and where a modest tablet of three lines epitomizes
his history, in the pious form of inscriptions of that day.
The church built by Meredydd is of such substantial workmanship,
that it will probably prove the most lasting, as well as pious,
monument of his deeds. A little chapel or transept was subsequently
added on the south side by Robert Wynne, uncle of Sir John, the
author of the Memoirs.
The village consists of a few cottages, unconnected and poor
looking: riches or civilization would not harmonize with the scenery
of Dolwydellan, which is as though it existed in an age when the use
of money and the various arts of life were still unknown or
undiscovered.

CONWAY CASTLE.
Conway is an ancient fortified town, seated on the western bank of
the noble river from which it takes its name, and formerly called
Aber-Conway, i.e. the mouth or embouchure of the chief river. The
position is happily chosen, both as a strong post of defence and a
key to those parts of Denbigh and Caernarvon which lie remote from
the sea. In the arrangement and decorations of the interior the
town of Conway has little to attract a mere spectator, the streets
being few, narrow, and irregular: but the historian and the antiquary
will view with much interest the old Plas Mawr, erected in the year
1585, by Robert Wynne, of Gwydyr, Esq., uncle of Sir John Wynne
the historian. Over the principal entrance, in Greek characters, are
inscribed the words ανεχθ απεχθ, i.e. bear and forbear; and above
may be observed, in Roman capitals, J. H. S. X. P. S. supposed to be
the initials of the words “Jesus Hominum Salvator et populi salus;”
the interpretation of the three first letters is probably correct, but of
the latter three extremely questionable. The old college, which
stands in Castle Street, is adorned with armorial bearings of the
Stanleys, and was possibly an alms-house or charitable institution of
some sort, founded or endowed by that noble family. Of the old
Cistercian Abbey, founded by Llewellyn ap Jorwerth in the year 1185,
no traces are now visible; Edward the First transformed the building
into a parish church, removed the monks to Maenan Abbey, on the
Denbighshire side of the river, three miles distant from Llanrwst, and
obliterated all traces of the monkish establishment as far as it was
practicable.
The church is a low unarchitectural structure, built and repaired from
time to time from the mouldering walls of the ancient abbey, without
having borrowed one happy thought from the symmetry of its
proportions. Here is a fine baptismal font, supported by a clustered
pillar of gothic design; and a tablet to the memory of Nicholas
Hookes, of Conway, Gent., who was the forty-first child of William
and Alice Hookes, and himself the father of twenty-seven. He died
on the 20th of March, 1637.
The town was incorporated and made a free borough by Edward the
First, the charter constituting the mayor to be governor of the castle
also. This politic prince erected the castles of Caernarvon,
Beaumaris, and Conway, to awe the turbulent spirit of his dearly
acquired subjects; and whatever merit may be due to the policy of
the plan, sufficient admiration can hardly be awarded to the choice
of position and beauty of design. If he had not been the prince who
commanded those walls to be erected, he might well have wished to
have been their architect. The picturesque features of these fine
ruins are quite distinct; Caernarvon boasts magnitude, Conway a
most romantic position, and the great hall of Beaumaris brings back
the spectator immediately into the society of other days.
The embattled walls which surround the town are coeval with the
castle, and drawn in the form of a British harp, like those
encompassing Caernarvon. The design and style of the castle
however are wholly different, and most happily suited to its bold
position. The ground plan is nearly in form a parallelogram. Two
sides of the castle rise from a steep rock, washed by the tide water
of a little creek that runs up along the town walls, and by the flood
of the Conway river. The exterior presents to view eight noble
circular towers, from the walls of which issue slender machiolated
turrets, giving a singular lightness to the whole design, and
connected by massive embattled curtains. A long wall formerly
extended from the southern angle of the castle into the river,
terminated by a little water tower, used to obstruct the passage of
enemies, and facilitate the landing of their friends. The principal
entrance, which is tolerably perfect, was by a drawbridge thrown
across a deep fosse, concealed within a barbacan. The interior is
divided into two distinct parts, an outer and an inner court, the
entrance to the latter impassable by more than one person at a
time, and that by the permission of those within. Around the outer
courtyard were the apartments of the garrison, the chapel, great
hall, &c.: the inner area was encompassed by the apartments of the
royal founder and his household. The walls of a small chamber, still
entire, with an open ornamented casement, bear the name of the
Queen’s Oriel, and appear, from a poem of the age in which it was
erected, to have been the ladies’ dressing-room. At the south-
western extremity, beyond the royal apartments, a broad terrace is
raised above the river upon a ledge of solid rock; from this, as from
the oriel, a view of the adjacent country is enjoyed, intersected by
cultivated hills, between which and the castle the Conway is seen to
roll his flood, passing beneath the broad waterway afforded by a
beautiful suspension bridge, which, from the appropriateness of
style, seems an appendage of the ancient pile. A curious proof is
here afforded of the excellence of masonry in the early ages.
Although the castle appears identified with the rock from which it
springs, a separation has taken place in one instance; neither has
this occurred from the disintegration of the walls, which hang out
beyond the base of the broken tower, it is the rock itself that has
crumbled away.
There are many historic events of deep interest connected with the
story of this warrior pile. Like the artist of the brazen bull, Edward
was the first who was necessitated to make trial of the sufficiency of
his new state prison. Here he was besieged and nearly reduced by
famine, and only rescued from such a critical situation by the
providential arrival of a fleet with supplies. This was also the
appointed rendezvous of forty thousand loyalists who attached
themselves to the fortunes of King Richard the Second, and were
destined to check the career of Bolingbroke. Here Percy and King
Richard held an interview, from which it would appear that the
unhappy prince mistrusted his faithful friends; for, secretly
withdrawing from Conway, he put himself into the hands of
Northumberland, at Flint, by whom he was betrayed into the power
of his rival. Amongst its different vicissitudes Conway Castle was
once converted into a public treasury, and discharged its trust with
honour and good fortune. In the civil wars of King Charles’s time,
being held by Dr. Williams, archbishop of York, for the king, the
country gentlemen entrusted to his Grace’s keeping their title deeds,
plate, and most valuable moveables. This trust he cheerfully
undertook and made himself entirely responsible for their value by
giving to each depositor a personal receipt. In the May of 1645,
Prince Rupert was appointed governor of the castle, and by his order
Sir John Owen was substituted for the archbishop in the
guardianship of the valuables lodged within. Sir John constantly
evading the archbishop’s applications on the subject of the deposit,
the prelate, to avoid his own ruin, and seeing no prospect of a
return to regal government, joined the Parliamentarians, assisted
Mytton in the reduction of the castle, and having again got into
possession of those treasures for which he had pledged himself,
restored them uninjured to the respective owners. For these
services parliament granted him a free pardon and a release from all
his sequestrations. The singular beauty of this fortress appears to
have obtained for it not only the admiration but the respect of the
ruin-making conquerors of the seventeenth century; but being at
last granted by Charles the Second to Lord Conway, while it was still
roofed and perfect, that gothic personage dismantled the entire
structure, and sold the lead, iron, timber, and all other disposable
materials which could be easily separated.
The suspension bridge at Conway is thrown from the foot of the
southern tower to a small island in the river, the suspension piers
corresponding in design with the rounders of the castle occasion
little interruption to the harmony of the whole, and reduce it to a
mere question of taste, whether the bridge be not an appropriate
accession to the scene, and the very drawbridge of the castle.

BEDDGELERT.
The village of Beddgelert, the Goodesberg of Cambria, is situated on
a little plain reposing amidst wild and awful mountains, and adorned
by the conflux of two bright streams, the Glaslyn and the Colwyn.
The agreeable and fascinating character of the scene is more
immediately and vividly impressed upon the traveller who
approaches it from the Caernarvon hills. After traversing a wild
heathy district, and coasting along the banks of many gloomy lakes,
the little village of Beddgelert, in the centre of a verdant mead, with
its cheerful accompaniments of inhabitation, breaks suddenly on the
view amidst all the horrors of untamed nature. No situation could
be more happily chosen for the inspiration of religious meditation, or
more wisely selected for the maintenance of an institution of human
beings, in a region so savage and unproductive as this must have
been when the vale was occupied by a college of monks. The village
consists of a few huts coarsely and substantially built, deriving all
their charms from the beauty of their position, a handsome inn,
embosomed high in tufted trees, and the old parish church. Moel
Hebog, or the hill of the falcon, known in the world of elegant
literature as “Lord Lyttleton’s Hill,” hangs over the valley on the
opposite side to the village, and at its base was discovered, in the
year 1784, a Roman shield of a circular shape, and formed of thin
brass.
The church, which is dedicated to St. Mary, was anciently
conventual, and belonged to a priory of Augustines, conjectured to
be also of the class called Gilbertines. The regulations of this last
order permitted the residence of men and women beneath the same
roof, their convents being separated by a wall; and this opinion
receives some support from the circumstances of a tract of land
adjoining the church being known to this day by the appellation of
“The Nun’s Meadow,” in Welsh Dol y Lleian. Beddgelert is the oldest
monastic establishment in North Wales, Bardsey excepted. Llewellyn
the Great, who commenced his reign in 1184, appears to have
bestowed upon it certain grants of land, and David ap Llewellyn
granted others which were afterwards resumed, an investigation
establishing the property of them to have been originally in Tudor ap
Madoc, and not in the reigning prince. Besides many granges in
Caernarvon and Anglesea, an allowance of fifty cows and twenty-two
sheep, the Prior had a certain tithe or proportion of bees, or rather
of their honey and wax. It is extremely probable that all the
preceding were not intended for the sustenance of the few religious
of this house, but for the maintenance and extension of a liberal
hospitality to all persons travelling this way from North to South
Wales, and England to Ireland. Mead was the favourite drink of
those times, the nectar of that age, whence the veneration in which
bees were held of so vain a character, that the priests fabled them to
have been blessed by the Almighty at their departure from Paradise,
and that therefore no mass ought to be celebrated but by the light
of wax. This conceit is mentioned in the laws of Howel Dda. A
farther and rather substantial testimony of the hospitality practised
here in by-gone days, was afforded in the existence of a pewter
drinking mug, capable of containing about two quarts, which
remained until within a very few years in an old tenement called the
Prior’s House. Any traveller who could grasp the Beddgelert pint
with one hand, when filled with good ale (cwrw dda) and quaff it at
a single draught, was entitled to the liquor gratis. The tenant was to
charge the value to the lord of the manor, who deducted the amount
from the ensuing rent. It was also for the further continuance of
such an useful hospitality that Edward the First munificently repaired
the damages which the convent had sustained by an accidental fire
in 1283; and Bishop Anian granted indulgences to other
benefactors. At the dissolution of monasteries the revenues of
Beddgelert were estimated at seventy pounds, Edward Conway was
its last Prior, and its lands in Caernarvonshire were granted to the
Bodvells.
Here are interred two eminent bards, Rhys Gôch Eryri, who
flourished about the year 1420, and Dafydd Nanmor, whose death is
placed in 1460. The poet attributes the foundation of Beddgelert
church to a later date, and to a different prince, and rests his proof
upon the following tradition. Llewellyn the Great came to reside
here, during the hunting season, accompanied by his princess and
their children; and one day while the family were abroad a fierce
wolf was seen to approach the palace. The prince, upon his return
from the chase, was met at his entrance by his faithful dog Gelert all
smeared with blood, though still using his accustomed indications of
happiness upon seeing his master. Llewellyn alarmed ran with haste
into the nursery, and there finding the cradle overturned and the
floor stained with blood, concluded that Gelert had been the
destroyer of his child, and drawing his sword instantly plunged it into
the heart of his favourite dog. But upon restoring the cradle to its
proper position the infant was discovered wrapped confusedly in the
clothing, and a monstrous wolf lying dead by its side. Llewellyn,
says tradition, immediately erected a church upon the spot, in
thankfulness to God, and placed a tomb over the remains of poor
Gelert, who lies buried in the centre of the valley, called from that
day Beddgelert, or Gelert’s Grave. This interesting tale forms the
subject of the following pleasing ballad, by the Hon. W. R. Spencer—
The spearman heard the bugle sound,
And cheerly smiled the morn,
And many a brach and many a hound
Attend Llewellyn’s horn.
And still he blew a louder blast,
And gave a louder cheer,
“Come, Gelert, why art thou the last
Llewellyn’s horn to hear?
“Oh where does faithful Gelert roam?
The flower of all his race:
So true, so brave, a lamb at home,
A lion in the chase.”
’Twas only at Llewellyn’s board
The faithful Gelert fed;
He watch’d, he served, he cheer’d his lord,
And sentinel’d his bed.
In sooth he was a peerless hound,
The gift of royal John; [46]
But now no Gelert could be found,
And all the chase rode on.
And now as over rocks and dells
The gallant chidings rise,
All Snowdon’s craggy chaos yells
With many mingled cries.
That day Llewellyn little loved
The chase of hart or hare,
And scant and small the booty proved,
For Gelert was not there.
Unpleased, Llewellyn homeward hied,
When near the royal seat,
His truant Gelert be espied,
Bounding his lord to greet.
But when he gain’d his castle door,
Aghast the chieftain stood;
The bound was smear’d with gouts of gore,
His lips and fangs ran blood.
Llewellyn gazed with wild surprise,
Unused such looks to meet,
His favourite check’d his joyful guise,
And crouch’d and lick’d his feet.
Onward in haste Llewellyn pass’d,
And on went Gelert too,
And still where’er his eyes he cast,
Fresh blood gouts shock’d his view.
O’erturn’d his infant’s bed he found,
The blood-stain’d covert rent;
And all around the walls and ground,
With recent blood besprent.
He call’d his child—no voice replied:
He search’d with terror wild;
Blood, blood, he found on every side,
But no where found the child!
“Hell-hound, by thee my child’s devour’d,”
The frantic father cried:
And to the hilt the vengeful sword,
He plunged in Gelert’s side.
His suppliant, as to earth he fell,
No pity could impart;
But still his Gelert’s dying yell
Pass’d heavy o’er his heart.
Aroused by Gelert’s dying yell,
Some slumberer waken’d nigh;
What words the parent’s joy can tell
To hear his infant cry?
Conceal’d between a mingled heap
His hurried search had miss’d:
All glowing from his rosy sleep,
His cherub boy he kiss’d!
Nor scratch had he, nor harm, nor dread,
But the same couch beneath
Lay a great wolf, all torn and dead,
Tremendous still in death!
Ah, what was then Llewellyn’s pain!
For now the truth was clear,
The gallant hound the wolf had slain,
To save Llewellyn’s heir.
Vain, vain, was all Llewellyn’s woe,
Best of thy kind, adieu!
The frantic deed which laid thee low,
This heart shall ever rue.
And now a gallant tomb they raise
With costly sculpture deck’d,
And marbles storied with his praise
Poor Gelert’s bones protect.
Here never could the spearman pass,
Or forester, unmoved,
Here oft the tear besprinkled grass,
Llewellyn’s sorrow proved.
And here he hung his horn and spear,
And oft as evening fell,
In fancy’s piercing sounds would hear
Poor Gelert’s dying yell!
And till great Snowdon’s rocks grow old,
And cease the storm to brave,
The consecrated spot shall hold
The name of Gelert’s grave.
 LLYN OGWEN.
Ogwen Lake is contained within a circumference of about three miles,
presenting itself in rather an oval form. It is encircled by mountains,
except at the eastern extremity, which fall abruptly into the water,
and afford scenery in the highest degree romantic. On the left the
broken shattered crags of Trifaen [48] hang over the margin of the
lake, and throw the surface into an everlasting shadow. The distant
forms of Francôn mountains are, if possible, still more grand and
picturesque; but the side skreen of Braich-ddû slopes down more
smoothly and gradually to the water’s surface. Perhaps there are
too many broken summits hovering over Ogwen; probably the mind
of true taste may think the simplicity and grandeur of the scene
interrupted by their repetition, but this is too refined a criticism.
Ogwen is generally acknowledged to present the finest lake scene in
Caernarvonshire, the very Derwent of North Wales, and, like it, well
described as “Beauty sleeping in the lap of Horror.” The waters of
Llyn Ogwen abound in a species of red trout, easily taken with the
fly, and not inferior in flavour to salmon. The surplus waters
discharge themselves at the western end of the pool through a
chasm in the rocks, and tumbling in three noble cataracts down a
height of about one hundred feet, are concentrated into a bed in the
green meadows of Nant Francon; flowing by Dolawen and Penrhyn
Castle, they are lost at length in the Mænai straits.
The noble line of road constructed through the Welsh mountains,
under the surveillance of parliamentary commissioners, is carried
along the very margin of Llyn Ogwen, amidst the great debris that
continue annually falling from the rocky sides of Trifaen. In the
winter of 1831 upwards of one thousand tons of rock fell from the
dizzy heights of Benclog, a little below the Ogwen cataracts; part
rolling straight across the road fell into the valley and river in the
bottom, while another part having acquired a less momentum rested
on the ledge the road supplied them. The intercourse of travellers
was for some days impeded, although one hundred miners were
engaged in clearing and restoring the surface of the road. A
gentleman from the vale of Llanrwst had just passed along in his
phaeton, on his way to Bangor, when the terrific sound of the
dissolving mountain fell upon his astonished ear.
About one mile from Llyn Ogwen, in a deep hollow of the Glyder
mountains, lies the dark pool, called Llyn Idwal. The gloomy horrors
of the surrounding scene exceed even those of Ogwen; the
encircling cliffs are overhanging, broken, and dark; in one part the
whole mountain is rent asunder, and the chasm of “Twll ddû,” or the
“black cleft,” gapes between the terrific masses. The solitude of
Cwm Idwal proved favourable to the perpetration of a deed of blood,
and it was here that young Idwal, the infant heir of Prince Owen
Gwynedd, was treacherously assassinated by order of his foster-
father Nefydd, to whose care his father had consigned him:—
And thou, O Idwal, of immortal fame,
Dying, to the vale hath left thy name.

PONT-Y-PAIR [50a].
This curious and picturesque bridge is thrown over the rapid river
Llugwy, [50b] at the village of Bettws-y-Coed, [50c] in the county of
Caernarvon. Though flung high above the surface of the water it
consists of but little masonry, the natural rock supplying piers the
most solid and enduring. One of the arches affords an open transit
for the waters which flow from the noble fall and salmon leap above
the bridge, and produce by their impetuous rotatory motion a deep
reservoir or caldron below it, whence this graceful structure derives
its appropriate name. Four of the arches are dry except in rainy
seasons, when the torrent rises with such rapidity as would
endanger a less substantial work, at which period these openings
are found perfectly necessary.
The history of the origin of Pont-y-Pair possesses a singular though
simple interest. Howel, a mason, from Penllyn, having occasion to
attend the assizes then, A.D. 1468, held at Conway, found his
passage over the Lleder, which flows through Dolwydellan,
obstructed by the violence and greatness of the flood. This
suggested to him the idea of removing to the spot and of erecting a
bridge there, at his own expense, trusting to the generosity of
travellers for compensation. The success of one project engendered
a second, and Howel next resolved upon the erection of the
beautiful bridge at Bettws-y Coed, called now the Pont-y-Pair; but he
did not live to see its final completion.
To the right of the Pont-y-Pair is the “Carreg y gwalch,” or rock of the
Falcon, a beautiful hill of singular and broken forms, clothed with
wood for the most part, a few fine bold rocks occasionally elevating
their fronts above the foliage, and producing a noble and great
effect. In this rock is a deep recess, called Ogo ap Shenkin, or the
Cave of Jenkin, in which that famous outlaw took shelter during the
Lancastrian wars. A large rock now blocks up the entrance, like the
grotto of Polyphemus, and there is a tradition that this was once
rolled away by some inquisitive persons, who, advancing a few
yards, discovered a huge oak chest clasped with iron, on the top of
which stood a monstrous goat bowing his aged head, and following
with his horns the direction of those who had the courage to
approach. The chest of course continues in this dreary treasury, and
the character of its guardian is hinted at by the discoverers, but
never openly declared.
Dafydd ap Shenkin held the fastnesses of Nant-conway for fifteen
years, during which period he was unrelentingly pursued by the
captains of Edward the Fourth. From their persecution, when he
could no longer keep the open country, he sought refuge in his
mountain cave. Howel ap Jevan ap Rhys Gethyn, a contemporary of
Jenkin, and the Robin Hood of those times and this country, was also
Shenkin’s or Jenkin’s mortal foe. Being expelled from the castle of
Dolwydellan, and from his strong hold at Penanmen, he was
compelled to flee into Ireland, where he continued for a year or
more, and then returning appeared with his followers all clad in
green, spent the residue of his life as an outlaw, seeking a fortuitous
existence amongst the mountains and forests of his native land.
There is a township in the parish of Bettws-y-Coed still bearing the
name of Hendre-Rhys-Gethyn; it is the estate of Dafydd D. Price,
Esq., and was once probably part of the possessions of the brave but
unfortunate Howel, the consistency of whose politics constituted his
greatest offence.
The village of Bettws, an attractive and fascinating spot, is situated
near the meeting of the Llugwy and Conway rivers. The few
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