CHAPTER XVI. TRAWSFYNYDD-DOLGELLEY-BARMOUTH-MACHYNNLETH. SMOOTH to the shelving brink a copious flood Thomson. I LEFT with lingering regret the romantic vales of Cynfael and Dwyryd, and bent my steps towards Trawsfynydd, passing over the Cynfael by the bridge of Pont Newydd, which I have before mentioned, and, taking a diverging road on the right, gained, after a walk of two miles, the direct turnpike which bears towards the south. It was here I observed a remarkable meteorological effect,—I might say, as regards my own experience, a natural phenomenon, though by no means considered so, I was told, at this period of the year, in Wales, that of the sky around being heavy and black, with the clouds resting on the hills, while the sun shone brightly on the mountain of Moelwyn, at a distance of four miles,— by which the perspective illusion of every object appearing close to, and clearly before the eye, was produced. Rambling on my solitary way towards Trawsfynydd, I was considerably amused, on meeting the villagers and market women, to observe their tenacious love of the large, round beaver hat, the full sleeves, and dressy neck-kerchiefs. They looked cheerful and happy, and were mostly engaged in knitting as they passed by me; no bad example, I thought, to the young and old in other countries. As I proceeded, the scenery soon became changed for features of a more sombre hue, with coarse, bleak heath, which continued beyond Trawsfynydd. Almost every village in the Principality has some natural curiosity or remnant of antiquity, which, in the eyes of a tourist, confers a degree of interest on its neighbourhood, and Trawsfynydd is not, in this respect, without its attractions. A common near it is traversed by a Roman road, supposed to have been constructed by Helena, daughter of a British prince, and wife of the Emperor Maximus. It is at present only to be distinguished by its elevation above the general level of the plain, being completely covered with turf; but, on digging, the several layers of stones with which it is formed are easily discovered. Cromlechs, also, and carnedds are numerous on the hills, which, though now bare, were anciently, in many places, covered with forests of oak. The situation of Trawsfynydd is particularly wild and lonely, and the village, walled in by bleak and barren mountains, seems as though it were shut out from the rest of the world. It would be a convenience to tourists in general to procure a carriage at Ffestiniog or Maentwrog, and ride about five or six miles beyond Trawsfynydd, which will enable them to inspect the falls of the Cain and Mawddach, and to proceed to Dolgelley without much fatigue. A few miles beyond Trawsfynydd the country becomes richly wooded; and the hazel, the honeysuckle, and blackberry, intermingle in all their varieties in the hedge-rows by the way-side. Taking a mountain path to the left, near Pont Dolgefeiliau, at perhaps the distance of a mile, I reached the grand waterfall named Pistyll Cain,-the Spout of the Cain. The river here is contracted into a comparatively narrow stream, which precipitates itself over nearly perpendicular rocks, lying in rugged horizontal strata, from a height of about 150 feet,-now descending in one clear unbroken sheet of water,-then breaking into separate torrents, from the stony masses which interrupt its fall,—and again uniting to send its fretted foaming stream into the dark gulph below, amidst the bright foliage of the oak, the birch, and the elm, that spring from every crevice, and overhang its tumultuous course. Viewed from the summit of the fall, with the broken and magnificent prospect below, the rich dark woods interchanging their vivid hues with huge masses of rocks, and the swelling mountains nearing the scene, and towering in sublime grandeur in the distance, the subject is one of such extraordinary materials, as can alone be justly apprehended and felt by the eye and heart of the poet and painter. Not far from the junction of the Cain with the Mawddach, is another waterfall, which possesses its own peculiar interest and beauty. It is not so high as its neighbour, but the stream is much more shattered, and, after leaping over three successive rock-ledges, it falls into a large basin, worn and shaped by the ceaseless cataract. Rude fragments from the adjoining cliffs lie scattered in the channel and over the foreground, and the scene of the fall exhibits an amphitheatre of rocks and trees mingled in sober harmony together. Not far from this spot is a rustic bridge thrown over the noisy flood, which clasps the alpine banks in picturesque simplicity, and adds greatly to the primitive beauty of the picture. The traveller must now trace his steps back to the high road, and, at the distance of two miles, he will reach the estate of Dolymelynen, nearly covered with fine timber trees. I was much delighted with this luxuriant and secluded place, which presents an extended reach of beautiful forest scenery. The oak, lime, walnut, and ash, are of magnificent dimensions, but nothing can exceed the beauty and exuberance of the acacia. I had visited this sylvan retreat some years before, when spring was arraying the trees, shrubs, and flowers in their early yet interesting and charming foliage. At that time, I well remember, the simple and truthful pastoral lines of the poet Clare often occurred to my mind, giving a sort of intellectual expression to the beautiful face of Nature. Through the estate of Dolymelynen rolls the river Camlan, which is one continued series of falls from its source, high among the mountains, to its junction with the Mawddach in the valley below. One of the larger falls (which, in reality, forms three falls) is called the Rhaiadr Du, where the water tumbles over rocks more than fifty feet in height, and, especially after heavy rain, descends almost with the roar of thunder. The surrounding scenery is well wooded, and the black rocks on each side of the rapid stream present a singular picture, being for the most part covered with pure white lichen. When the observer is seated on the hill above the falls, the opposite mountain of Penrhos is seen closing the extent of this narrow vale. On the hill are two copper mines, and on Vigra, Cae Mawr, Penrhos, and Dolyfrwynog, are several others. Dolymelynen is five miles from Dolgelley. A walk of a mile brought me to the pleasantly situated little inn, at Ganllwyd, called the "Oakley Arms." This house is erected close to the road leading from Maentwrog to Dolgelley, and within a stone's throw of the angry river Mawddach. It is encircled by majestic hills, which were then mostly covered with heath and fern in blossom, giving an appearance of richness and beauty even to the most arid and barren parts. Immediately before the house rises the mountain of Penrhos, the river washing its base. On the right hand, apparently at the end of the vale, appears Cefn Mawr; while behind, as if to protect this charming retreat from the westerly gales, winds the long and broad range of Craig Cau. This little inn at Ganllwyd presents an admirable station for the artist, the angler, and the lover of nature. It is, for the hardy pedestrian, within an easy journey of numerous remarkable points of scenery, embracing four lakes and six rivers, besides numerous rippling mountain-streams, some of which abound with cataracts or falls. A gentleman, who was staying at this inn while I was there, showed me, as a great curiosity, the handbill of a person who was, for many years, a guide to the surrounding scenery. The following is an extract from this facetious publication:-" Robert Edwards, second son of the celebrated tanner, William Edwards, ap Griffith, ap Morgan, ap David, ap Owen, ap Llewelyn, ap Cadwaladar; great great great grandson of an illegitimate daughter of the illustrious hero Sir Rice ap Thomas! by Ann, daughter of Howell ap Jenkins, of Ynys y Maesgwyn, who was the thirteenth in descent from Cadwgan, a lineal descendant of Bledwyn ap Cynfyn, Prince of Powis. Since his nativity full two and eighty times hath the sun rolled to his summer solstice; fifty years was he host of the Hen and Chickens ale-house, Pen y bont, twenty of which he was apparitor to the late Reverend Father in God, John, Lord Bishop of Bangor, and his predecessors: by chance made a glover, by genius a fly-dresser and angler. Is now, by the All-Divine assistance, conductor to and over the most tremendous mountain, Cader Idris, to the stupendous cataracts |