CHAPTER XI. THE GLYDER HILLS, TRIFAEN MOUNTAIN, LAKE OGWEN, LLYN IDWALL, AND NANT FRANGON. HERE rivers rushing from the upland lake, THE next morning I pursued my excursion up the narrow vale watered by the Colwyn, and, through a wildly variegated landscape, came to the lakes near the foot of Mynydd Mawr, a vast precipice, presenting its bold, picturesque outline against the skies; it now threw its broadest shadow over hill, and rock, and vale, while the deep, clear waters of the neighbouring lakes, under the passing shadow of the clouds,-dispersing before the glowing sun,—produced a strangely varied and most pleasing effect. Proceeding on my right along the stupendous base of Snowdon, where the path to its loftiest summit first appears, I rambled towards the romantic Cwellyn,* known to have been long in possession of a family of the same name now extinct. Through the opening of the expansive hills, which here approach nearer to each other, the sun, pouring a richer flood of light, threw fresh lustre on every object around; and the impression, * Celebrated of old for the surpassing flavour of its char; and, like most of the lakes and streams round Beddgelert, affording admirable scope for the genius of the angler. after the splendid night-scenes I had witnessed, was as vivid as it was dazzling to the sight. On my left rose Mynydd Mawr, wild and precipitous in its aspect-seeming yet vaster than it is, from its peculiar half-circular form. Moel Eilan, hardly inferior in majesty, but clothed in more light and verdant colours, presented no less marked a contrast; while not far beyond lay Bettws Garmon, its pretty village and antique church, where, as about Beddgelert, green slooping meadows and pleasant streams unite the milder features of landscape with the vast and sombre hills. Returning in the afternoon to my favourite inn, I was glad to retire early to repose. The rain had wet me through during my last walk, and I now felt extremely fatigued, cold, and shivering. The church at Beddgelert is supposed to have been erected on the site of an ancient Priory of Augustine Monks. These holy fathers, it further appears, belonged to that class of monks-assuredly the most sociable-called Gilbertines, and consisted of persons of both sexes, who resided under the same roof, divided, however, by a wall; and there is a piece of ground, not far from the spot, which still goes by the name of the Nun's Meadow. is conjectured that the antique arched door-ways, seen on one side of the church, led to the monastery; and that the old mansionhouse was the residence of the good prior, whose pious shade may yet be observed, on the eve of solemn festivals, at the head of his humbler brethren pacing the well-beaten and accustomed path. It Being desirous of obtaining admission to the interior, I looked round and observed a little hunch-backed figure, with peculiar eyes and white hair, looking intently at me, and making strong signs for me to desist in trying to unfasten one of the doors. He had a huge bunch of keys at his girdle, to which he pointed significantly, and put his hand upon his pocket, with a broad grin which said, plainer than any words, here is the only legitimate way of entrance. His long arms, his broad, stunted frame, and large feet and hands, with a deep voice and deformed features, brought Scott's descrip tion of the Dwarf' vividly to my mind, and this man seemed to stand before me not a whit more amiable or engaging. But his leathern belt and keys betokened his official character; and, with the proviso that he should walk before me,-for, in the sea-faring phrase, I could not fancy the cut of his jib,'--he brandished the church-key with an air of exultation, as if in all the joyous foretaste of clutching a sexton's fee. But I had almost as well have spared my pains and my pocket; for the interior of this loftiest church of Snowdonia, as Mr. Pennant designates it, has nothing half so conspicuous as the names of some rich pew-proprietors, ten times repeated, with a large tablet commemorating their Christian generosity in apportioning the remaining space to the use of the poor. On the east side the window, consisting of three narrow slips, gives it an antique air, and there are a few curious vestiges of fret-work. An adjoining chapel is supported by two plain pillars and gothic arches; and we are informed by Rymer, that the church originally was founded by Llewellyn, to commemorate the preservation of his son, and as some atonement for slaying his preserver, (the faithful greyhound), from whose name and tomb, tradition assures us, the village received its name. How beautifully the entire incidents to which it refers,-the noble picture of the chase, the contrast of feelings,-the uncontrollable rage of the father against his faithful dog,—the discovery,—and the grief of Llewellyn,—have been illustrated by Mr. Spencer, in his admirable ballad, I need not here remind the reader. My walks among the Snowdon hills are part of the most agreeable recollections of my life. Although years had elapsed since I last beheld the scenes amidst which I now wandered, the impression on my imagination was as pleasing and exciting as it had ever been. The love of coast and mountain scenery, imbibed during an early period of my boyhood, required not, in maturer years, the spell of historical association, or of yet wilder tradition, to give force to the sentiment; and if I was then an enthusiast for pedestrian rambles, I was still as eager to pursue them for the more invigorating delight they ever afforded me, and the energy of mind and frame which, after a slight seasoning, I invariably found them to impart. I had this time twice traversed the greater mountains of this singularly picturesque region, and my desire of exploring fresh paths and trying longer excursions was unabated, till I began to think as lightly of accomplishing twenty to thirty miles before evening as I had, at one period, thought of four or five. Even when reposing in the pleasant sequestered valleys, surrounded by the romantic mountains, breathing the deep calm which seems peculiar to the solitude of Beddgelert, the thought of a more extended route over the Glyder hills of the fine views around the lakes Cader and Cwellyn,-and the yet wilder passes of the mountains, soon determined me to take this route towards Anglesey, in order that I might not lose the opportunity of again observing the splendid scenery round the Ogwen lake, and the dark rocky valley of Frangon. On my way, these presented themselves to view a succession of all those nobler features of landscape which I had not before seen under the same points of view. From the summit of the Great Glyder, I marked the scenes through which I had passed on the previous days, spread on every side in novel beauty and magnificence. To the west lay the vale and extensive lakes of Llanberis; more near the barren tract of Waun Oer and the Lesser Glyder,—on one side the towering precipice of Clogwyn-du overhanging the dark Llyn Idwall, the deep fissured rock of Twlldu, the strangely indented Trifaen, the massy Carnedds of David and Llewellyn; and below the yawning chasm of Benglog opening into Nant Frangon, and the Ogwen pouring its waters into the deep glens below. The surface of the ground upon which I stood,—the summit of the Glyder Fawr,-had a most singular appearance. It seemed as if it had been washed by a tremendous sea; the stones lay loose, and strewn at hazard as on some wild coast; the rocks, bare, clo |