but a true and ardent lover of nature, can endure the depression of his high-raised expectations.

After visiting two other little cascades, the Cayne and Mothwaye, which are really worth going a couple of miles to see, and passing through a tract abounding in striking features, I gradually descended, along the rocky and almost sublime shelving bank of the Mawdoch, to Dolgelly, the poor capital of Merionethshire. There was very little here to eat, but a great deal to see; poverty, the bane of happiness, is here-I mean beggarly poverty-want. The town lies at the base of Cader Idris, which rises almost perpendicularly, presenting a broken rocky face, of uncommon grimness and savage majesty. It is only about twenty-eight hundred feet high; but its abruptness, and, above all, its detached position, distinct from any other range, gives it an air of great majesty. Indeed, it may be remarked, that the Welsh scenery, particularly mountains, derives most of its effect from its abrupt transitions, and the frequent occurrence of hills and rocks that are nearly perpendicular. A precipice, or very steep mountain, approaches more near to the sublime, than a mass of rocks, or a full-swelling hill of thrice their altitude. Another feature, which undoubtedly contributes to render the Welsh mountains more striking, though far less beautiful, is their general barrenness. Destitute almost entirely of trees, they present a grim and terrible aspect; and I was perpetually struck with the contrast between them and our native hills, the fine foliage of whose trees, extending quite to the summit, gives them a fleecy softness, a feathery outline peculiar to themselves. Nothing indeed can be more enchantingly beautiful, than a view of the gray rocks, and variegated foliage of one of

our mountains through the pure transparent atmosphere of an early October morning.

The fiend, who presides over the picturesque in these regions, tempted me to the ascent of Cader Idris. Accordingly, invited by a fine morning of most promising aspect,. I proceeded to the house of an honest, but exceedingly poor publican, situated just at the point for beginning this mighty task. I chose the path gullied out by a little torrent, which, during rains, leaps from rock to rock, through a deep winding way, from the summit to the vale below, stopping, as it were, to rest after each leap, in little transparent crystal basins, formed by its perpetual action. Hic labor, hoc opus est, quoth I, as I toiled and climbed upwards, the ascent growing more and more difficult as I approached the summit. Nevertheless, the anticipated prospect supported my strength and renovated my spirits. But the picturesque d

or, more politely, fiend, brownie, or goblin, played me a trick after all; for, just about the time I was toiling in the ravine, the vapours were gathering at the top, and a shower of rain hailed my emerging to the light of day. I got a wet jacket, and missed a prospect of two hundred miles in circuit. This comes of breaking one's resolution. Before I set foot in Wales, I had covenanted with myself, that I would never go out of my way for a mountain, except to avoid it. If the mountain came to Mahomet-good-but Mahomet was never to go to the mountain. Cader Idris tempted me, however, and I fell into a great shower, which not only spoiled my picturesque hunting coat, but hid all the prospect in dense mists. When I came down, I took out my book to see, what I might have seen if it had pleased heaven, and was consoled to find that several tourists, besides myself, had got a wet skin in ascending the mountain,

and had, like me, come down as wise as they went up.

I shook the mud from my feet, as did the trees of Orpheus from their roots, when that divine fiddler set them dancing, and turning my back to this uncourtly, inhospitable mountain, proceeded to the junction of the Mawdoch with the Avon. The ride from Dolgelly, along one of the most extraordinary roads in Wales for art and labour, is singularly fine, presenting a bold and variegated scenery, particularly on the north. After the junction of the two rivers, the expanse of water becomes very broad, at full tide especially, when it appears like a broad lake encompassed with high and irregular mountains. At low water it looks, if the truth must be told, very like a great marsh, with a creek meandering through the mud thereof. At the outlet of this lake is Barmouth, which is frequented by the Welsh gentry for the purpose of sea-bathing. Barmouth is called the Gibraltar of Wales. It is placed on a high rock, 'tis true, but it is not Gibraltar. The town is mean, incommodious, and difficult of access, presenting, on the whole, nearly all the inconveniences which form the principal attraction of watering places.

Returning to Dolgelly, I followed the course of the Avon-not Shakspeare's Avon-through a well-cultivated region, enclosed by high hills, dividing the basins of those streams that water the two divisions of Merionethshire. This brought me at length to the great Bala, Lyn-Tegid, or Pimble-Mere, the largest lake in North Wales. It has little remarkable about it, and the greatest wonder is, that being so small, it should be the greatest in all this country. It is estimated at from four to six miles long, and one mile broad. I forgot, however there is a wonder about this

lake. The river Dee, which rises near the head of the lake, is affirmed, by Giraldus Cambrensis, to pass quite from one end to the other, through this "immense" body of water, as it is called, without It is mingling its waters with those of Bala. quite amusing to read the accounts of terrible dangers, of inundations, and the like, which have frequently befallen the unfortunate people there, from the immense swells, occasioned by the storms, upon this immense body of water of one mile wide! I had heard of a puddle in a storm before I came to Wales. I made an excursion round the lake, but saw nothing remarkable, except the vestiges of an overflow of the river, of which my guide gave me a terrible account, concluding with the catastrophe of ten cows that were carried away. This was enough to impoverish half Wales, where a cow is often the common property of a whole town!

Leaving the little town of Bala, I reached the river Dee, and came to the little town of Corwen, remarkable for a most ferocious and gigantic likeness of the great Owen Glendower, who is the hero of every impossible feat, or miraculous appearance in this his chosen retreat. I hope, for the credit of Owen, the likeness is not a good one. There is the impression of a dagger in a stone, which he made by throwing it away in a passion. This forms part of a door-way, made on purpose for him, when he one day took it into his head, it seems, to go to church, a rare event commemorated by this door. Nobody must doubt these stories, for all Wales would rise to resent it, and the very echoes turn into growls of disapprobation. From Corwen, I again passed along the banks of the Dee, by a charming road to Llangollan, having thus return

ed to the spot, from whence I commenced my tour. There is another portion of North Wales which I did not visit, as what I had already seen was universally considered the most beautiful, picturesque, and romantic. In fact, I began to be tired of travelling alone, and felt the want of that which nothing can supply, a mind to commune with, and a heart to make responses to mine. Before I finally bid farewell to North Wales, I will give you my impressions with regard to the character of the people, and their political situation.

The peculiar characteristics, by which the Welsh were formerly distinguished, are fast wearing away. Subjugation to English rulers, and submission to English taxes, have altered their very nature, and little of the high-spirited independence of the followers of Llewellyn now remains. Excessive poverty, when it begets an abject de-, pendence upon public or private munificence, grinds away all prominent points of character, and almost uniformly produces a sycophant. I do not say, this is true of all the middle and lower orders in Wales; but there is enough of this to give a different aspect to the national character. It is mixed up in such large proportions, as to give a tone to the whole mass. Comparative poverty, when man has but little, and wants no more, is an honest fellow enough; but rely upon it, brother, that abject want is a great scoundrel nine times out of ten. He is assailed by too many inevitable temptations to be honest long. Hunger will break through stone walls; can we then wonder that it breaks the commandments?

Whoever travels among the Welsh people, and, above all, whoever attends the assizes, will be satisfied they are not what they were fifty, ay, fifteen years ago. Not half a century is passed since the sheriff of Flintshire (I think it was) was obliged to send to Liver