"I have not, sir. No people who live on this side the talcot
(tollgate) for a long way have any English."
I proceeded on my journey. The country for some way eastward of
Festiniog is very wild and barren, consisting of huge hills without
trees or verdure. About three miles' distance, however, there is a
beautiful valley, which you look down upon from the southern side
of the road, after having surmounted a very steep ascent. This
valley is fresh and green and the lower parts of the hills on its
farther side are, here and there, adorned with groves. At the
eastern end is a deep, dark gorge, or ravine, down which tumbles a
brook in a succession of small cascades. The ravine is close by
the road. The brook after disappearing for a time shows itself
again far down in the valley, and is doubtless one of the
tributaries of the Tan y Bwlch river, perhaps the very same brook
the name of which I could not learn the preceding day in the vale.
As I was gazing on the prospect an old man driving a peat cart came
from the direction in which I was going. I asked him the name of
the ravine and he told me it was Ceunant Coomb or hollow-dingle
coomb. I asked the name of the brook, and he told me that it was
called the brook of the hollow-dingle coomb, adding that it ran
under Pont Newydd, though where that was I knew not. Whilst he was
talking with me he stood uncovered. Yes, the old peat driver stood
with his hat in his hand whilst answering the questions of the
poor, dusty foot-traveller. What a fine thing to be an Englishman
in Wales!
In about an hour I came to a wild moor; the moor extended for miles
and miles. It was bounded on the east and south by immense hills
and moels. On I walked at a round pace, the sun scorching me sore,
along a dusty, hilly road, now up, now down. Nothing could be
conceived more cheerless than the scenery around. The ground on
each side of the road was mossy and rushy - no houses - instead of
them were neat stacks, here and there, standing in their blackness.
Nothing living to be seen except a few miserable sheep picking the
wretched herbage, or lying panting on the shady side of the peat
clumps. At length I saw something which appeared to be a sheet of
water at the bottom of a low ground on my right. It looked far off
- "Shall I go and see what it is?" thought I to myself. "No,"
thought I. "It is too far off" - so on I walked till I lost sight
of it, when I repented and thought I would go and see what it was.
So I dashed down the moory slope on my right, and presently saw the
object again - and now I saw that it was water.
Enter page number
PreviousNext
Page 202 of 450
Words from 105177 to 105693
of 235675
