From about the middle of the bridge there is a fine view of
the forges on the Cefn Bach and also of a huge hill near it called
the Cefn Mawr.
We reached the termination, and presently crossing
the canal by a little wooden bridge we came to a village. My guide
then said, "If you please, sir, we will return by the old bridge,
which leads across the Dee in the bottom of the vale." He then led
me by a romantic road to a bridge on the west of the aqueduct, and
far below. It seemed very ancient. "This is the old bridge, sir,"
said my guide; "it was built a hundred years before the Pont y
Cysswllt was dreamt of." We now walked to the west, in the
direction of Llangollen, along the bank of the river. Presently we
arrived where the river, after making a bend, formed a pool. It
was shaded by lofty trees, and to all appearance was exceedingly
deep. I stopped to look at it, for I was struck with its gloomy
horror. "That pool, sir," said John Jones, "is called Llyn y
Meddwyn, the drunkard's pool. It is called so, sir, because a
drunken man once fell into it, and was drowned. There is no deeper
pool in the Dee, sir, save one, a little below Llangollen, which is
called the pool of Catherine Lingo. A girl of that name fell into
it, whilst gathering sticks on the high bank above it.
Enter page number
PreviousNext
Page 87 of 856
Words from 23808 to 24063
of 235675
