appearance seem sufficiently at variance; but its lonely site, its rustic air, the dashing of its waters, with the whole scene around and beyond, are such as to arrest the eye of the painter. Though many of the cloud-capped rocks towering above no longer wear the noble mantle of their patriarchal oaks,―ill exchanged for the darker hues of the fir,-they give a wildness and grandeur to the picture, especially when beheld from an eminence above the village, which no eye can behold with indifference.

Returning after a quiet evening stroll to the inn,—I ought rather to say the Beddgelert hotel, for it may vie with the best in modern taste and true British comfort,-I remarked on my entrance the old Cambrian sign of the Goat, which the rage of innovation has yet spared, with its appropriate motto for the neighbourhood—' Patria mea petra'-my country is a rock. While amusing myself with conjectures as to its age and origin, I saw the old guide of Beddgelert, whom I had met on Snowdon, and thinking, perhaps, I might be in want of a Latin dictionary, he approached, and saluted me with great courtesy. He treated me to a Welsh interpretation, and after a learned discussion made sundry inquiries appertaining to his younger contemporary of Capel Curig,—in other words the lad Robin,' withal he looks at least sixty,—and expressed himself in high terms of his topographical learning, his industry, and civility. I could do no less than ask him to drink 'the lad Robin's' health; and a conversation, which might have borne reporting to the Antiquarian Society, was unhappily cut short by a whole tribe of little spar and crystal sellers, who, followed by the bare-footed representatives of the spinning and knitting interests, with their incessant clamour of buy, buy, buy,' speedily put us both to flight.*

*

* At Beddgelert, as in many other parts of Wales, the children of the poor constantly beset strangers, offering to them crystals and specimens of spar, which the mines afford in great abundance; and it is seldom that an English word can be got from them beyond "Yes," or 66 "No," or "Coppar, coppar;" which latter word they use as they offer a specimen, and it might be supposed that it was copper ore they wished to part with; but they mean copper coin is what they want.'-Smith's Guide to Snowdonia.

In the idea, I suppose, of making the close of the day harmonise with the rest, I found that my worthy host had prepared a light but excellent supper to welcome my return. Finding that he was as intelligent as he was good humoured and attentive, we afterwards requested his company; and by his exact local information and shrewd remarks,* he left me less cause to regret the interruption of the learned conversation with the ancient guide. I was soon master of the prevailing topics of the village, to say nothing of its history, topography, and antiquities,—all the little changes, past or in progress, and all those varieties, vicissitudes and freaks of fortune-about as important on the rustic stage as upon the wider theatre of mighty cities.

It was no want of employment, therefore, as that agreeable and obvervant tourist, Mr. Bingly, says was his case at Beddgelert, but the surpassing beauty of the following night, which again tempted me forth.

Proceeding only a short distance, I first beheld the mountains of Craig Llan soaring high above the river which bathed its base, and immediately opposite to the inn. The clear full moon, which threw a mild splendour upon the summits, shone with yet brighter radiance, reflected by the water in strong contrast with the broad, dark shadow of the hills, which lay on the banks and part of the stream. Ascending an eminence, on the Caernarvon side above the vale, I obtained, in succession, a fine view of Moel Hebog, Dinas Emrys, and the lakes and falls at the opening of the three valleys, all clearly yet softly illumined by moon and starlight, and gradually expanding as I approached nearer to the majestic Snowdon. Though differing in character, this view was not

Among these he never for a moment forgot the primary duty of a host, having modelled his conduct, it seemed to me, on the maxims of Lord Chesterfield-especially the Suaviter in modo, fortiter in re;' fair speech and good bright wine; or if you like it better-an excellent dish well served up. A breakfast, for instance-excellent tea and coffee, fresh salmon-trout hot, a fine lobster, mountain-mutton, ham, and eggs! But it is wholly impossible, as I found it, to do justice to such a subject.

surpassed for splendour and variety by the moonlight scene I had beheld from the pass of Llanberis.

High as my expectations had been, they were at length more than realised; for the sudden view of Vale Gwynant, bursting full upon me in the radiant beauty of such a night, was one of the most wildly picturesque I had ever beheld. It seemed well denominated at the moment the Vale of Waters,

the most lovely

some or other

of all Snowdon,-comprehending within itself charm peculiar to all its less favoured sisters. As magnificent as beautiful, at no hour could it have been seen under a more favourable aspect-in its richest autumnal hues and softest touches of the season's fall. The majestic calm and beauty of the hills appeared mirrored in the waters at their feet, which glowed with that mellow radiance never seen by day; while afar off the music of the flashing falls alone broke on the deep solitude and silence of the night. Innumerable mild and variegated hues, caught from the serene refulgent skies, contrasted with the dusky shadows of the rocks, painting every object,now bright, half hidden, or deeply obscured, some changing feature continually surprising the eye. And soon, to the eastward, where the mountain begins to recede, came a bolder stream of light, through the opening which revealed the distant peaks of Snowdon, arrayed in all the richness of rainbow hues, from the deepest purple to those gray, brown, and darkening masses which invest the foreground and the base.

The streaks of dawn were just beginning to glimmer in the east, when I betook myself to a cottage in a secluded little nook at the foot of a hill; and there, for once in my life, I proved the truth, that the hardy peasant's couch is softer than any bed of down to the repose won by toil, and that no refreshment is so sweet as that offered by nature to those who know how to appreciate it.

Under no aspect can lake and mountain scenery be viewed to more advantage than in the glow of a clear autumnal night. There is something mournful in its mellow beauty and deep repose, though

full of peace, which soothes the imagination; nor are its softer lights and shadows-its dim, undefined outlines a less pleasing relief to the eye. The emblem of a more perfect rest, however sad the thoughts it often inspires, they have that in them more consoling and even refreshing to the mind than the forced smiles or the boisterous mirth and gayeties of the world. It is the melancholy charm we feel on beholding the prison of Bonnivard from the moon-lit waters of Chillon,-the tombs of the great reformers and benefactors of our race,—or the castellated ruins which frown on us like spectres from the banks of the Rhine; it is the same feeling which attracts our steps to the spots sacred to genius or martyred worth, and one of the noblest enjoyments of travel; and it is, perhaps, derived in part from the consciousness of our transitory and imperfect being.