and many are the sublime and extraordinary scenes popularly resigned to his patronage.

Grand as is the view from the bridge itself, when the half-dizzy gazer looks down into the dread abyss, yet he is then unable to form any adequate idea of the vastness, the gloomy magnificence of the scene, as seen from below. Passing over the bridge from the inn, and descending a steep and rather dangerous path to the right hand, the wonderful chasm over which the arches are thrown is viewed to the greatest advantage. It appears a narrow and perpendicular fissure in a solid rock, one hundred and fourteen feet in height; the singular old arch spans it about twenty feet below the new one, and a double gloom is thus given to the naturally dark abyss, at the bottom of which the impetuous Mynach foams and boils along, roaring as if in wrath at the mighty rocks which gird in its chafed and rapid waters. It is a fearful scene! The black and riven precipitous rock, which reared its form of darkness. before me, seemed to shut out all of calm and beauty which the world contained, and to spread its own region of wild desolation around. If a traveller have only time to descend one path at the Devil's Bridge, let him choose this. In many situations he may see cascades, but the extraordinary chasm at this place is one of Nature's inexplicable freaks, and a single specimen is all she vouchsafes us. Although the depth of the fissure, at the least computation, is one hundred and fourteen feet, and may be probably more, the width of the aperture, in some places, does not exceed fifteen inches; it is, therefore, evidently impossible that the river could be the original cause of the chasm, as sup

C

posed by some tourists; though its waters having found an outlet, they have no doubt continued to widen and deepen their confined channel.

After regaining the bridge, another hazardous path is descended on the opposite side, through a wood, and round an abrupt point of rock, to view the four falls of the Mynach, when it escapes from its imprisoning ravine, and rushes down to meet the Rheidol, which is scen rolling in a magnificent cascade between two grand swelling hills in an opposite direction.

The third path, down which the guide conducts visitors, is formed by the side of the falls, and commands very beautiful views of them individually; the first is twenty-four feet, the second fifty-six, the third eighteen, and the fourth, or grand cataract, one hundred and ten. In this admeasurement no allowance is made for the inclined direction of the river in many parts; the total height, from the bridge to the level of the stream when it joins the Rheidol, is about five hundred feet. At the jut of the lowest fall in the rock is a cave, said to have been inhabited by robbers, two brothers and a sister, called Plant Mat, or Plant Fat, who used to steal and sell the cattle of their neighbours, and whose retreat was not discovered for many years. The entrance being just sufficient to make darkness visible, and admitting but one at a time, they were able to defend it against hundreds. At length, however, they were taken, after having committed a murder, for which they were tried, condemned, and executed. The sides of the dingles are richly wooded, and the interlacing foliage of the trees sometimes almost embowers the cataract, while the stupendous hills,

that rise high on either side, are decked with bright clusters of mountain-blossoms; heath and wild thyme shed a purple glow over the hoary crags, and the different yellow and white flowers gem the verdant carpet with "treasures of silver and gold; " for the spray, incessantly flung up by the foaming waters, falls in a gentle shower around, "making the ground one emerald." As I sat contemplating the magnificent scene before me, where the last great plunge throws the water one hundred and ten feet down the rugged chasm, I felt how accurately descriptive are Byron's lines on the Falls of Terni; they echo the spirit-voices that we seem to hear around us in such a scene.

"The roar of waters!-from the headlong height
Velino cleaves the wave-worn precipice;

The fall of waters!-rapid as the light;

The flashing mass foams, shaking the abyss;
The hell of waters! where they howl and hiss
And boil in endless torture!"

After the fatigues of these ascents and descents from and to the "Acherontic stream," the comforts of the Hafod Arms Inn are right welcome; and a wanderer may spend a pleasant and profitable evening in "chewing the cud of sweet and bitter fancies" arising out of the scenes with which his senses have been fed during the day.

CHAPTER II.

HAFOD-STRATA FLORIDA ABBEY-YSTRAD MEIRIG.

Here balmy air, and springs as ether clear,
Fresh downs and limpid rills, and daisied meads,
Delight the eye, reanimate the heart,

And on the florid cheek emboss the rose

'Mid sweetest dimples and unfeignéd smiles.
Here shepherd swains, attentive to their charge,
Distent o'er hillocks green, or mountains huge,
Mantled with purple heath.

VOYAGE OF LIFE, by the Rev. David Lloyd.

THE usual custom being to visit Hafod from the Devil's Bridge, and I, like a systematic and orderly wanderer, having followed the example of my predecessors in the vagrant line, my readers, in like manner, will be good enough to follow me while I retrace my steps to that former "paradise of dainty devices."

The road to Hafod lies through a wildly mountainous tract of country, at first overlooking the deep dingle where the foaming Mynach tears its angry way; and then over the brow of a hill commanding an extensive and richly-varied prospect. At the summit of this hill, an arch is thrown across the road, and being seen for a considerable distance on either side, it forms a picturesque object in the landscape; though to a stranger it holds out a deceitful promise of some more interesting

and ancient fabric than the mere ornamental creation of a neighbouring landowner. From this arch the road descends somewhat steeply, and a turn to the right leads to a lodge, at which the grounds of Hafod are entered. Here the view becomes extremely beautiful; richly-wooded hills rise around, leaving a valley of lawns and groves, through which the Ystwith takes its ever-varying course, now plunging down a rocky ravine in a sheet of white and glittering foam-now flowing darkly along, shadowed by the graceful branches of the mountain-ash, and the delicate birken spray, while the sturdy king of the woods, the massive-foliaged oak, groups more heavily and richly with the glossy Spanish chestnut and the darksome fir. A lovely road along this lawny vale at one graceful sweep brings the visitor in front of the mansion, the exterior of which is the only part that the present owner suffers the eyes of curious tourists to be edified by examining; and this, though sufficiently elegant for the residence of both the affluent and tasteful, certainly possesses none of the magical attributes which certain writers are ambitious to invest it with. The original mansion of Hafod was nearly destroyed by fire, in 1807, with many of its valuable manuscripts, books, and pictures. A new mansion, however, arose under the genius of its late tasteful proprietor, equal in extent to the former one, which, after his death, with his estate, passed into the hands of trustees.

The description of Hafod, so laboriously essayed by some Mr. Cumberland, I find quoted in almost every guide-book; of course it is considered the ne plus ultra of the sublime and beautiful; and as my readers will