Town of Neath - Hounds and Huntsman - Spectral Chapel - The Glowing
Mountain
NEATH is a place of some antiquity, for it can boast of the remains
of a castle and is a corporate town. There is but little Welsh
spoken in it. It is situated on the Neath, and exports vast
quantities of coal and iron, of both of which there are rich mines
in the neighbourhood. It derives its name from the river Nedd or
Neth, on which it stands. Nedd or Neth is the same word as Nith,
the name of a river in Scotland, and is in some degree connected
with Nidda, the name of one in Germany. Nedd in Welsh signifies a
dingle, and the word in its various forms has always something to
do with lowness or inferiority of position. Amongst its forms are
Nether and Nieder. The term is well applied to the Glamorganshire
river, which runs through dingles and under mountains.
The Neath has its source in the mountains of Brecon, and enters the
sea some little way below the town of Neath.
On the Monday morning I resumed my journey, directing my course up
the vale of Neath towards Merthyr Tydvil, distant about four-and-
twenty miles. The weather was at first rainy, misty and miserable,
but improved by degrees. I passed through a village which I was
told was called Llanagos; close to it were immense establishments
of some kind. The scenery soon became exceedingly beautiful; hills
covered with wood to the tops were on either side of the dale. I
passed an avenue leading somewhere through groves, and was
presently overtaken and passed by hounds and a respectable-looking
old huntsman on a black horse; a minute afterwards I caught a
glimpse of an old red-brick mansion nearly embosomed in groves,
from which proceeded a mighty cawing. Probably it belonged to the
proprietor of the dogs, and certainly looked a very fit mansion for
a Glamorganshire squire, justice of the peace and keeper of a pack
of hounds.
I went on, the vale increasing in beauty; there was a considerable
drawback, however: one of those detestable contrivances, a
railroad, was on the farther side - along which trains were
passing, rumbling and screaming.
I saw a bridge on my right hand with five or six low arches over
the river, which was here full of shoals. Asked a woman the name
of the bridge.
"PONT FAWR ei galw, sir."
I was again amongst the real Welsh - this woman had no English.
I passed by several remarkable mountains, both on the south and
northern side of the vale. Late in the afternoon I came to the
eastern extremity of the vale and ascended a height. Shortly
afterwards I reached Rhigos, a small village.
Entering a public-house I called for ale and sat down amidst some
grimy fellows, who said nothing to me and to whom I said nothing -
their discourse was in Welsh and English.
