CHAPTER XVII. KYMMER ABBEY, LLANILLTYD, BARMOUTH, DOLYMELYNLLYN, TRawsfynydd, &c. 'Twas that delightful season, when the broom, Along the copses runs in veins of gold. Wordsworth. OH! beautiful those wastes of heath, Mary Howitt. ONE of the pleasant circumstances attending my autumnal 'Wanderings,' was the delightful weather I enjoyed-sky and air such as could not fail to delight a pedestrian's heart—with clear, mellow days, and serene, refulgent nights, which painted the scenes before me in a thousand brilliant hues, and under a continual variety of form and aspect. To have studied the beauties of the foliage, or the vales and lakes, in the mild splendour of the season's fall, when the harvest queen filled her horn with new-born light,' would of itself have afforded ample return for lonely walks, and some toil and adventure, which brought me in view of those more sequestered and wildly beautiful spots which in Wales often greet the eye of the enthusiast of nature. Nor was the pleasure diminished by thus coming oftener in contact with the primitive character and pastoral habits of the people, their appearance and their manners, yet highly national amidst so many changes, and upon which, without destroying their form and their simplicity, the genius of improvement is happily engrafting new ideas, and, with more general education and improved prospects, still better institutions. Reflections on the future, which I indulged by the way-side, were thus far from an unpleasant nature; and the recollection of what I had seen, and the onward impulse towards yet greater improvements, struck me more forcibly at every step. From Dolgelley and its romantic neighbourhood, I passed up the old road, over a very steep hill, and turned my steps towards the singularly picturesque and ancient monastic ruin called Y Vanner, or Kymmer Abbey. Viewed in combination with the rich diversity of objects presenting themselves along the banks of the Mawddach, the approach to this time-worn monument of vanished ages has something strangely sombre and impressive. Above, in the distance, towers the dark rock of Moel Orthrwn; below, several valleys, watered by the intermingling of different streams, their banks studded with neat and elegant residences; on one side appears the bridge-the modest church, and on the other extends the rich flat ground on which stand the relics of the antique abbey. Only a portion of the church is now to be seen; the great hall, or refectory, and a part of the abbot's residence, have resigned their more costly and spiritual charge for the less dignified, but not less necessary, avocations of a farm-house. The east side is in the best state of preservation, and through its close mantle of ivy may be perceived the small narrow windows peculiar to old religious edifices. I observed, also, some rather minute. Gothic pillars and arches against the south wall, and an aperture, in which, probably, was preserved the holy water. On the same side appears to have been a semicircular door, opposite to two small arches, and near them is seen a fragment of a statue representing the head of a human figure. The space of ground within the walls is more than usually circumscribed. According to Mr. Vaughan, the antiquary, it was founded by the grandsons of Owen Gwynedd; the monks were of the Cistercian order, and the abbey dedicated to the holy Virgin. It may be said of her priests, as of the humbler rustics by whom they were |