After wandering about the valley for some time, and seeing a few of
its wonders, I inquired my way for Festiniog, and set off for that
place. The way to it is through the pass at the south-east end of
the valley. Arrived at the entrance of the pass I turned round to
look at the scenery I was leaving behind me; the view which
presented itself to my eyes was very grand and beautiful. Before
me lay the meadow of Gelert with the river flowing through it
towards the pass. Beyond the meadow the Snowdon range; on the
right the mighty Cerrig Llan; on the left the equally mighty, but
not quite so precipitous, Hebog. Truly, the valley of Gelert is a
wondrous valley - rivalling for grandeur and beauty any vale either
in the Alps or Pyrenees. After a long and earnest view I turned
round again and proceeded on my way.
Presently I came to a bridge bestriding the stream, which a man
told me was called Pont Aber Glas Lyn, or the bridge of the
debouchement of the grey lake. I soon emerged from the pass, and
after proceeding some way stopped again to admire the scenery. To
the west was the Wyddfa; full north was a stupendous range of
rocks; behind them a conical peak seemingly rivalling the Wyddfa
itself in altitude; between the rocks and the road, where I stood,
was beautiful forest scenery. I again went on, going round the
side of a hill by a gentle ascent. After a little time I again
stopped to look about me. There was the rich forest scenery to the
north, behind it were the rocks and behind the rocks rose the
wonderful conical hill impaling heaven; confronting it to the
south-east, was a huge lumpish hill. As I stood looking about me I
saw a man coming across a field which sloped down to the road from
a small house. He presently reached me, stopped and smiled. A
more open countenance than his I never saw in all the days of my
life.
"Dydd dachwi, sir," said the man of the open countenance, "the
weather is very showy."
"Very showy, indeed," said I; "I was just now wishing for somebody,
of whom I might ask a question or two."
"Perhaps I can answer those questions, sir?"
"Perhaps you can. What is the name of that wonderful peak sticking
up behind the rocks to the north?"
"Many people have asked that question, sir, and I have given them
the answer which I now give you. It is called the 'Knicht,' sir;
and a wondrous hill it is."
"And what is the name of yonder hill opposite to it, to the south,
rising like one big lump."
"I do not know the name of that hill, sir, farther than that I have
heard it called the Great Hill."
"And a very good name for it," said I; "do you live in that house?"
"I do, sir, when I am at home."
"And what occupation do you follow?"
"I am a farmer, though a small one."
"Is your farm your own?"
"It is not, sir: I am not so far rich."
"Who is your landlord?"
"Mr Blicklin, sir. He is my landlord."
"Is he a good landlord?"
"Very good, sir, no one can wish for a better landlord."
"Has he a wife?"
"In truth, sir, he has; and a very good wife she is."
"Has he children?"
"Plenty, sir; and very fine children they are."
"Is he Welsh?"
"He is, sir! Cumro pur iawn."
"Farewell," said I; "I shall never forget you; you are the first
tenant I ever heard speak well of his landlord, or any one
connected with him."
"Then you have not spoken to the other tenants of Mr Blicklin, sir.
Every tenant of Mr Blicklin would say the same of him as I have
said, and of his wife and his children too. Good-day, sir!"
I wended on my way; the sun was very powerful; saw cattle in a pool
on my right, maddened with heat and flies, splashing and fighting.
Presently I found myself with extensive meadows on my right, and a
wall of rocks on my left, on a lofty bank below which I saw goats
feeding; beautiful creatures they were, white and black, with long
silky hair, and long upright horns. They were of large size, and
very different in appearance from the common race. These were the
first goats which I had seen in Wales; for Wales is not at present
the land of goats, whatever it may have been.
I passed under a crag exceedingly lofty, and of very frightful
appearance. It hung menacingly over the road. With this crag the
wall of rocks terminated; beyond it lay an extensive strath,
meadow, or marsh bounded on the cast by a lofty hill. The road lay
across the marsh. I went forward, crossed a bridge over a
beautiful streamlet, and soon arrived at the foot of the hill. The
road now took a turn to the right, that is to the south, and seemed
to lead round the hill. Just at the turn of the road stood a small
neat cottage. There was a board over the door with an inscription.
I drew nigh and looked at it, expecting that it would tell me that
good ale was sold within, and read: "Tea made here, the draught
which cheers but not inebriates." I was before what is generally
termed a temperance house.
"The bill of fare does not tempt you, sir," said a woman who made
her appearance at the door, just as I was about to turn away with
an exceedingly wry face.
