perhaps, sensible of their attractions, these fish have the shrewdness to keep out of harm's way, as we are told, by remaining at the bottom of the water, where they feed on small shells and aquatic plants, from which no bait but that of a deep-plumbed, irresistible net can induce them to emerge. In former times the fishery is stated to have formed part of the possessions attached to Basingwerk Abbey, but has since fallen into the hospitable hands of that public-spirited and hearty friend of the Principality, Sir Watkin Williams Wynn, Baronet, who has pitched his tent, in the shape of a neat hunting-box, quite according to the Irish rule, 'convaniant to the spot.' Though now so calm and beautiful,-reflecting all the quiet and clearness of the heavens upon its breast, as the swallow skimmed its glassy surface, and the wild-fowl sought their home in its little bays and creeks, the aspect of Bala Lake, when the storm is up, and the winter wild' puts on his terrors, can assume a very different kind of beauty. To see it when the autumnal winds ruffle its broad expanse with billows, or the clouds discharge their contents as fiercely as the torrent from the hills,—when the drifting rack and snow-storm mingle the last leaves of the year with the scattered beauty of the meads and gardens, the observer can no longer recognise the least resemblance in the characteristics of the two landscapes-the Bala of the opposite seasons. Upon the north-east side, the water sometimes rises many feet above its usual level. When the winds and the rains, as I was informed, 'meet and combine the whole of their forces,' it is a grand sight to see the lake overshoot its banks, and rush far beyond into the noble valley of old Edeirnion. Once, in the month of June, 1781, a part of the vicinity is believed to have been inundated by one of those singular occurrences-the bursting of an overcharged cloud, called a water-spout, which, however frequently beheld at sea, seldom visits the earth. It was attended by terrific lightning and continuous rain, which caused the Twrch-fed by torrents from the Bwlch y Groes hills-to overflow and sweep every thing before it. The spoils of fields and villages, and even human life, marked the progress of the flood; and as far as Ruthin the rising of the rivers suddenly burst on the ear of the affrighted people. The scene round Bala is described by one of the oldest inhabitants as heart-rending and terrific. The deep and dismal chasm, spanned by the one-arched bridge of Llyn Dyffws, through which the resounding torrent of the Glyn pours its flood down the wildest rocky falls, exhibited a magnificent sight, swelled by the mountain rains into one immense volume of foaming cataract, which again bursting from its black and caverned bed through the deep wooded glens beyond, rolled its unusual mass of burdened torrents to join the waters of the Dee. Huge branches, and some of the large forest-trees themselves, which threw a gloomier shadow over the stormy scene, were uprooted by the maddening torrents and launched into the yawning deep. The lake rose with the impulse of the storm till it assumed the aspect of a wild and restless sea, keeping stern music with the crashing of the neighbouring woods and the whistling of the blast, while, drowning the roar of the torrent, the thunder ever and anon startled the ear, and lurid flashes opening the sky exhibited for a moment the troubled firmament to view. CHAPTER XIX. LLANDRILLO, WELSHPOOL, POWIS CASTLE, MONTGOMERY, &c. NATURE here Wantons as in her prime; and plays at will QUITTING Bala, and its expansive lake and scenery, differing so much from all other Cambrian llyns and glens, I proceeded by the side of the river Dee till I reached the village of Llandrillo. It was about a mile hence that Mr. Pennant crossed the Dee over Pont Gillan, which has two arches across a deep, black bed of waters, beyond which, however, the valley assumes new beauties, richly contrasting with the stupendous heights, covered with ancient oak, towering above. The scenery round this spot is described by the great tourist as worthy the pencil of a Salvator. Mr. Bingley, on the other hand, passed Llandrillo at the distance of three miles, crossing the Dee at Landerfel, another small village. The church of this place, according to the old Chronicle, had the honour of containing a large image of Derfel Gadarn, its patron saint; and the Welsh prophecy ran, that this single wooden likeness would some day set a whole forest on fire. Accordingly, on the execution of Doctor Forest, for treason, in 1538, it was taken from its nook, and put under him to excite the fuel when he was burned in Smithfield. From Llandrillo I passed by a footpath over the mountains immediately between Cader Fronwen and Cader Ferwyn, two eminences in the range of the great Berwyn hills.* Turning thence to the right, on reaching the summit of these Alpine heights, a short walk of two miles brought me within view of the grand waterfall called Pistil Rhaiadr, at least two hundred feet in extent; and though destitute of the magnificent foliage which gives so splendid a contrast to some other cataracts-rich in underwood and forest trees-young plantations are rising on every side. It is formed by the little river Rhaiadr, which, after the boisterous raging of the falls, quietly murmurs through a sylvan dell, and, dividing the counties of Denbigh and Montgomery, soon unites with the river Tanat. Near the waterfall is a pleasant little inn, built by Sir W. W. Wynn. A farther walk of four miles, through the bold valley of Mochnant, presents to the eye the picturesque village of Llanrhaidr yn Mochnant, encompassed by mountains of varied form and colour, blending well with the character of the scene. The parish in which this little village is situated has been long noted for its vicars, among whom was the learned Dr. Morgan— already mentioned-the translator of the Bible into his native tongue, and successively Bishop of Llandaff and of St. Asaph; and the no less erudite and more facetious Dr. South. Not having space for the purpose here, I must be content to refer my readers to the biography of this learned divine for some interesting anecdotes-not a few of them, also, very amusing-which will amply repay the perusal. About twenty miles from Llanrhaidr, I approached Welshpool, the most spacious and important of the towns of Montgomeryshire. It has one main street, crossed by small ones at right angles, and the houses are neat and well built. The language spoken, and the manners of the people, are almost altogether English. * These would seem to be mere variations of the same generic name, bestowed, probably, by the popular taste for the sake of euphony, of which we may perceive numerous examples in the rural nomenclature of the Principality. The water formerly upon the waste is now comprehended within the enclosure of Powis Park. It is a deep, black water, thought to be unfathomable, of which the Welsh are fond of repeating an old prophecy, that it will some time overflow and deluge the town. The church-singularly situated in a hollow of the hill, with a cemetery as high as itself-is built in the pointed, but not ancient, style, and dedicated to St. Mary. It possesses a chalice of pure gold, worth one hundred and seventy pounds. The county-hall, a modern edifice, is erected in the centre of the town, and presents an elegant appearance, having a handsome front, with a colonnade and pilasters of stone. There is every convenience for the administration of justice, and no less for the accommodation of the people. The Severn is navigable for barges to a place called Pool quay, a mile from the town, and upwards of two hundred miles from its mouth in the Bristol channel. Powis Castle, the seat of Lord Clive, is situated on an eminence, about a mile south of Welshpool, and one of the outer entrances to the park is on the very edge of the town. A considerable portion is built of red stone, from which the natives call it Castell Coch, or the Red Castle. It is an extensive and venerable building, without much pretension to architectural taste, and has been greatly extended and improved by the present noble owner. The original building was commenced in 1109, by Cadwgan ap Cynfyn, who was murdered by his nephew, and left the building unfinished. It was continued by Gwynwynwyn, who was governor of this part of Powys land. Llewellyn ap Jorwerth dismantled the castle in 1233. It was again completed, and remained in the possession of Owen ap Gryffydd. On his demise he left a daughter whose claims were disputed; but, being shortly afterwards married, the King ennobled her husband by the title of Baron Powys; and the estates continued for several centuries in the possession of their descendants. At the time of the Civil Wars in the seventeenth century, Piercy, Lord Powys, declared for the Royal cause and garrisoned his castle, of which he took the com |