Far To The West Is A Tall, Strange-Looking Hill, The Top Of Which
Bears No Slight Resemblance To That Of A Battlemented Castle.
This
hill, which is believed to have been in ancient times a stronghold
of the Britons, bears the name of Bryn y Castell, or the hill of
the castle.
To the north-west are russet hills, to the east two
brown paps, whilst to the south is a high, swelling mountain. To
the north, and just below the hospice, is a profound hollow with
all the appearance of the crater of an extinct volcano; at the
bottom of this hollow the waters of two rivers unite; those of the
Rheidol from the north, and those of the Afon y Mynach, or the
Monks' River, from the south-east. The Rheidol, falling over a
rocky precipice at the northern side of the hollow, forms a
cataract very pleasant to look upon from the middle upper window of
the inn. Those of the Mynach which pass under the celebrated
Devil's Bridge are not visible, though they generally make
themselves heard. The waters of both, after uniting, flow away
through a romantic glen towards the west. The sides of the hollow,
and indeed of most of the ravines in the neighbourhood, which are
numerous, are beautifully clad with wood.
Penetrate now into the hollow above which the hospice stands. You
descend by successive flights of steps, some of which are very
slippery and insecure. On your right is the Monks' River, roaring
down its dingle in five successive falls, to join its brother the
Rheidol. Each of the falls has its own peculiar basin, one or two
of which are said to be of awful depth. The length which these
falls with their basins occupy is about five hundred feet. On the
side of the basin of the last but one is the cave, or the site of
the cave, said to have been occupied in old times by the Wicked
Children - the mysterious Plant de Bat - two brothers and a sister,
robbers and murderers. At present it is nearly open on every side,
having, it is said, been destroyed to prevent its being the haunt
of other evil people. There is a tradition in the country that the
fall at one time tumbled over its mouth. This tradition, however,
is evidently without foundation, as from the nature of the ground
the river could never have run but in its present channel. Of all
the falls, the fifth or last is the most considerable: you view it
from a kind of den, to which the last flight of steps, the
ruggedest and most dangerous of all, has brought you. Your
position here is a wild one. The fall, which is split into two, is
thundering beside you; foam, foam, foam is flying all about you;
the basin or cauldron is boiling frightfully below you; hirsute
rocks are frowning terribly above you, and above them forest trees,
dank and wet with spray and mist, are distilling drops in showers
from their boughs.
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