and marked the evening shadows lengthening upon the distant heights, and the thin mist gradually shrouding the magnificent prospects spread around, the thoughts of one of my favourite poets rose fresh in my mind, recalled no less by their singular truth and beauty, than by the hour and the scene.

It is just beyond this point the eye commands a prospect of surpassing interest and loveliness, one which leaves nothing to be desired with regard to picturesque effect. The broad waters of the Mawddach open in front, often enlivened by skiffs and pleasure boats; on both sides appear, agreeably alternated, a succession of wooded eminences projecting into the estuary along the banks, and producing a fine scenic illusion, by concealing the termination of the river, giving it the appearance of a wide, extensive lake. To the south, from beyond the banks, is beheld the vast, majestic cliffs surrounding on all sides and half concealing the airy summit of Cader Idris: from the bridge, a splendid variety of prospects, stretching towards Maentwrog, as well as of the gloomy, yet picturesque vale of Llanilltyd. It was here, and farther on the road to Barmouth, that Mr. Warner was so much struck with the rich diversity of landscape which he beheld. Suddenly turning upon Pont Ddu, a stone bridge of one arch, spanning a furious torrent, which, rushing from a dark, wooded glen, forms a beautiful cascade, he proceeded about a mile farther, where the scene, assuming a wholly different aspect, is suddenly changed. The mountains in front, receding from the river, are replaced by rich green meadows, while the stream, here widening and deepening, gives a new and majestic feature to the prospect. Behind is caught the different reaches and windings of the river, which at length loses itself in the great waste of waters, together with the shaded hills that confine it on one side, and the rocky precipices of Cader Idris on the other.

The herds were grazing quietly along the banks; the white sail was just seen bending its homeward path; and to the raving of the autumnal blasts, which covered the streams and woodlands with

the fallen leaves, there succeeded a solemn stillness,-one of those deep, calm pauses in the stir of life, and in the very air, which momentarily is felt even in crowded cities, but which now, pursuing my lonely way along the vale, had a singularly unwonted effect upon the mind. The feeling was more strongly impressed, also, by contrast with the richly variegated views of hills and streams which I had that morning beheld through the strong, cle r light of a brilliant sunrise, and with a beautiful rainbow, such as I had never before remarked, or even thought possible— with its perfect reflection in the depth of its glorious hues upon the hills, of which the declivities shone with all the mingled colours of the radiant arch which spanned their majestic brows.

It was in a deeply moralising mood, then, on that evening,— philosophically commenting upon the ever fresh and varying aspect of external nature, and how strangely it appeals to the heart, presenting so true a type of man's change and destiny,-that I approached Pont Ddu, on my road to the romantic seaport of Barmouth. Upon my left flowed the bright river; the towering summits of the giant Idris-almost baffling the sight-stretching far beyond; around and behind me lay the deepening, shadowy vale; while to the right the bold hills presented the appearance of huge mountain waves in the rolling mists and fast gathering twilight. The silvery tints and beauty of the river, pursuing its destined path, like the current of life, through the heart of these wild and dreary mountains; the occasional views of woods, meadows, and corn fields, intersected by some branch streams, and again the wilder moor, the mountain hollow, the bushy dells, through which is caught at intervals some flashing cataract,-made my walk along the Mawddach most interesting.

Speaking of the road from Llanilltyd to Barmouth, Mr. Pratt says, Its beauties are so manifold and extraordinary, that they literally beggar description. New pastures of the most exuberant fertility, new woods rising in the majesty of foliage, the road itself curving in numberless unexpected directions, at one moment

shut into a verdant recess, so contracted that there seems neither carriage nor bridle-way out of it: at another, the azure expanse of the main ocean filling the eye. On one side rocks glittering in all the colours of that beauty which constitutes the sublime, and of an height which diminishes the wild herds that browse or look down upon you from the summit, where the largest animal appears insignificantly minute. On the other hand, plains, villas, cottages, or copses, with whatever tends to form that milder grace which belongs to the beautiful.'

The entrance to Barmouth, or Abermaw, as it is designated from its river, on the day I reached it, was particularly pleasant to me. The weather was beautiful; the sunset in which I beheld the surrounding landscape, and the far more splendid and magnificent view of the bay and the sea stretching far beyond, was such as I shall not easily forget.*

The river, taking its course to the south of the town, is here divided into two channels, between which lies the little island called Ynis Brawd, or the Friar's Island. I find this circumstance alluded to in the entertaining and accurate Itinerary of Leland, who observes, in his own quaint manner, at the north of Maw river lyeth a little islet, scant a bow shot over, withowte habitation. At ebbe it is fresche water, and at fludde salt.' Thus was formed the harbour, which anciently, we are told, before it was inundated by the sea, occasioned by the shifting of the sands, afforded pasturage for flocks and herds.

The houses are disposed in a singular, but not unpicturesque manner, on the sides of an immense sloping rock, which shelters them on the eastern side; and whole rows appear standing on the ledges, like shelves one above the other, and, in winding up the

* For the sake of the lover of etymology, it may be observed, that this name is derived from that of Abermaw, abbreviated into Bermaw-a compound itself, formed from the name of the river Mawddach, or Maw and that of Aber, the conflux of the stream-and again corrupted, for the sake of euphony, by us barbarous English, into the modern sounding Barmouth.