At Length I Came To A Steep
Mountain Gorge, Down Which The Road Ran Nearly Due North, The
Conway To The Left Running With Great Noise Parallel With The Road,
Amongst Broken Rocks, Which Chafed It Into Foam.
I was now amidst
stupendous hills, whose paps, peaks, and pinnacles seemed to rise
to the very heaven.
An immense mountain on the right side of the
road particularly struck my attention, and on inquiring of a man
breaking stones by the roadside I learned that it was called Dinas
Mawr, or the large citadel, perhaps from a fort having been built
upon it to defend the pass in the old British times. Coming to the
bottom of the pass I crossed over by an ancient bridge, and,
passing through a small town, found myself in a beautiful valley
with majestic hills on either side. This was the Dyffryn Conway,
the celebrated Vale of Conway, to which in the summer time
fashionable gentry from all parts of Britain resort for shade and
relaxation. When about midway down the valley I turned to the
west, up one of the grandest passes in the world, having two
immense door-posts of rock at the entrance. the northern one
probably rising to the altitude of nine hundred feet. On the
southern side of this pass near the entrance were neat dwellings
for the accommodation of visitors with cool apartments on the
ground floor, with large windows, looking towards the precipitous
side of the mighty northern hill; within them I observed tables,
and books, and young men, probably English collegians, seated at
study.
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