Kitabı oku: «A Book of North Wales», sayfa 15

“Character,” said he, “is formed for and not by the individual, and society now possesses the most ample means and power to well form the character of everyone by reconstructing society on its own true principles” – that is to say, on those devised by Robert Owen.

In 1797 he started the “New Lanark Twist Company,” in which his theories were to be carried out; but although the system was nominally and theoretically democratic, Robert Owen ruled as an autocrat, and having a splendid organising and business head he made the scheme into a commercial success. Some of the partners could not agree to his plans, so he bought them out, but took in others, who also declined to let him rule despotically, and in disgust he went off to America to found a Socialistic community there on the wreck of an attempted German Communistic venture. This, however, failed, and when he returned to Scotland the partners in the New Lanark Twist Company had increased in number, and gave him to understand that they intended managing it in their own and not in his way.

Then he founded a Communistic Society at Orbiston, in Scotland, but this also slipped from his control. He next started a weekly paper, The Crisis, and an “Equitable Labour Exchange.” The latter came to a disastrous end in 1833. After this little was heard of Robert Owen.

One of his early theories was that the universe was one great self-acting laboratory, and that all life, movement, thought, were results of chemical action.

His conception of the formation of character was bound to end in disappointment. Minds are not mere bits of blank paper on which you may write what you like; souls are not lumps of putty to be moulded to what form you will.

My dear father had been impressed with some of Robert Owen’s doctrines, specially with this, and he set to work to shape my brothers and me each for a special profession, and to give each a separate bent; and the result was that we all went in clean opposite directions to what he purposed, and adopted professions which he had intended the others to enter.

Owen finally took up with table-rapping and Spiritualism, and supposed himself to be a medium through whom the Duke of Kent revealed the mysteries of the other world. Finally, as his health failed, a great longing came over him to return to his native place and die there.

 
“And as a hare, when hounds and horns pursue,
Pants for the place from whence at first it flew,”
 

so did he come back to Newtown, and there shortly after expired.

A little way down the Severn below Newtown is Llanllwchaiarn, a church founded by a brother of S. Aelhaiarn of Guilsfield. The parish is not of interest in itself, except as having given birth to, and been the residence of, a remarkable man, Henry Williams, of Ysgafell, one of the sturdiest Nonconformists of the time of the Restoration. His father owned the farm, which had belonged to the family for several generations.

The Conventicle Act, which came into force in 1664, imposed a penalty of £5 or three months’ imprisonment on anyone frequenting a dissenting meeting, for the first offence; £10 or six months’ imprisonment for a second offence; and for a third offence a fine of £100 or transportation beyond the seas.

Henry Williams was in prison from time to time during nine years. On one occasion a party of soldiers beset his house, and in the skirmish, as they attempted to enter, his father was knocked down and killed. On another the house was fired, and Mrs. Williams, taking one child in her arms and leading another, attempted to cross the Severn from the soldiery, when one of them cocked his pistol and vowed to shoot her. However, the officer knocked the man down, and sent an escort to attend her to a friend’s house.

Another time when Henry Williams was preaching the soldiers fell on him, beat, and nearly killed him. They seized his stock and devastated his farm. There was, however, one field that had been sown with wheat, not yet sprung up, which they could not or did not harm. That field throve amazingly, and the crop next summer surpassed in yield every other in the neighbourhood. Nothing like it had been seen, and at harvest the produce was so abundant as to repay the family for all its losses. There were six, seven, and eight full ears upon each stalk. Two of these stalk-heads have been preserved to the present day; one has on it seven ears, the other eight. The field where this marvellous crop was grown is known to this day as Cae’r Fendith, the Field of Blessing.

Some of the principal persecutors of Henry Williams died so strangely that it was regarded as a judgment of heaven upon them. One dropped suddenly from his chair dead whilst eating his dinner, a second was drowned in the Severn when drunk, and a third fell from his horse and broke his neck close to the house of Henry Williams, which he had plundered.

About half-way between Caersws and Machynlleth is Llanbrynmair, the birthplace of Richard Davies, known in Wales by his bardic name of Mynyddog, who is regarded as the Burns of his native land. He was born in 1833, and his father was a farmer. At an early age the poetic faculty displayed itself in him, and he wrote for several Welsh magazines, and won prizes at local literary meetings. As his education had been but scanty, he laboured hard as a young man to make up for this deficiency. He was a tall, fine man, with an open, pleasant face, was full of a kindly, never caustic, wit; and he speedily became one of the most popular of Welsh poets. There is a freshness and flavour of the soil in his compositions, like those of Burns, but none of the coarseness of the Scotch poet. He died in 1877 at his residence, Bronygân, in Cemmes. It is hard, almost impossible, to give anything of the charm of his compositions in a translation, and I venture on one with the utmost diffidence.

“BOXER.”

 
“Full many a lusty horse I’ve viewed,
When following father’s team,
Would draw the plough, make furrow and ridge,
With the coulter’s after gleam.
Now, fair befall
Good horses all!
But never a one can I recall
That could compare, in my esteem,
With Boxer, my father’s horse.
 
 
“If I to bet were a bit inclined,
One hundred pounds I’d lay
On every hoof old Boxer had,
The best that fed upon hay.
But he would scorn,
As one well born,
To be accounted not worth a thorn.
He’d toss his head and proudly neigh
Unless he were leading horse.
 
 
“The chapel choir for a practice came,
It was upon Monday night,
To the glory of God an anthem sing
In harmony and might.
But each would lead,
And each decreed
That not a note would he proceed,
He’d hold it a purposed slur and slight
Unless he were leading horse.
 
 
“A deacon to choose at Tal-y-Coed,
Most woeful discord wrought,
For every chapel-member declared
The office was that he sought.
And he would scorn,
For this thing born,
To be set back, as not worth a thorn,
By all the sciet, a thing of naught!
For he would be leading horse.
 
 
“Our Boxer once was set in the shafts
When flow’ry June was gay,
And ordered to draw a wain, upheaped
With burden of balmy hay.
But he thought scorn
As one well born
To be accounted not worth a thorn,
In second place, and behind our bay,
For he would be leading horse.
 
 
“He backed, as stubborn as mule could be,
And, backing over a rock,
Adown he tumbled, with load atop,
A frightful wreckage and shock.
He broke his back,
For he would not hack
As a common cart-horse; and thus, alack!
The haughty Boxer was dead as a stock
Because he’d be leading horse.
 
 
“When folks see merit in any man,
That man will be thrust afore.
But he who elbows and pushes his way
Is surely esteemed a bore.
And I declare
Let all beware
Lest they the fall of Boxer share,
For that’s the fate for him in store
Who’ll only be leading horse.”
 

CHAPTER XVI
MACHYNLLETH

Pronunciation of the name – Owen Glyndwr – His history – David Gam – Fish – Lakes – Bugeilyn – Llyn Penrhaiadr – Towyn – Inscribed stone of S. Cadvan – Who Cadvan was – Tal y Llyn – Bass fishing – Llanegryn and its screen – Peniarth – The Wynn family – Welsh names – The Arms of Wales – The Three Feathers

THE pronunciation of this name demands a smattering of knowledge as to how to speak it intelligibly to a Welshman; but the clerks at railway stations delivering tickets to the place are prepared to accept every laboured effort to pronounce and mispronounce it. To ensure being understood, call the place “Măhúntleth.”

The town, a cheerful little place, clean, but without anything of much interest in it, is one of the six contributing boroughs of Montgomery. It has not even an old parish church; the structure that serves for the purpose is modern and poor in design. But it does retain a little plaster-and-timber house, nearly opposite the gates of the grounds of Plas Machynlleth, the place of the Marchioness of Londonderry, which is traditionally held to have been the dwelling in which Owen Glyndwr assembled a parliament to consult as to the best means of resisting Henry IV., and the place also where an attempt was made to assassinate him by David Gam.

Owen Glyndwr was born about 1359 in South Wales, but descended from the princes of Powys, and he takes his name from Glyndyfrdwy in Yale. He first comes to notice as witness in a remarkable trial that lasted four years between the houses of Grosvenor and Scrope relative to rights to a certain coat-of-arms.

The story of rights over a common, which originated the struggle between Owen and Lord Grey of Ruthin, and brought on a contest with the whole power of England, that lasted through Glyndwr’s life, has been already told.

The treachery of the unprincipled English baron led to the desolation of Wales, to rivers of blood being shed, and to a good deal of humiliation to his master, Henry IV.

It may be remembered that when, in 1400, King Henry was preparing an expedition against Scotland, he summoned Glyndwr to join his forces, but confided the summons to Grey to deliver. Lord Grey purposely suppressed it, and then represented Owen to the King as a malcontent and a rebel; whereupon, without inquiry into the matter, Henry IV. pronounced his estate forfeit.

The Welsh had sympathised with Richard II., and they regarded Bolingbroke as a usurper, but would have contented themselves with singing dirges to the memory of Richard, had they not been exasperated to revolt by the violence and injustice of the Marchers. Owen, enraged against Grey de Ruthin, at first made a personal quarrel of his wrongs; but this soon developed and extended until it involved the whole of Wales, which rose against the English Crown.

In 1401 King Henry marched into North Wales, but the natives, and all those who held to Owen, retired into the mountains; and Henry returned to England, having effected nothing. He left Henry Prince of Wales, then a boy of thirteen, at Chester, to watch and control the Welsh, with Henry Hotspur, eldest son of the Earl of Northumberland, as Justice of North Wales and Constable of the Castles. Shakespeare has considerably disturbed men’s minds relative to persons and events of the period. He makes the fiery Percy but little older than Prince Hal, whereas he was actually older than Henry IV. And Prince Hal was by no means the roysterer at East Cheap as represented, but from early days engaged in war, and carrying on a prolonged contest with Glyndwr, a wily and able commander, in a country most difficult to hold.

Owen, finding that Harry Percy and the young prince were too strong to be attacked, now fell with all his force on South Wales, harrying the land of the English and of such Welsh as would not join him. Then he abruptly turned to the Severn valley, burnt Montgomery, and was only stopped under the red walls of the castle of Percy at Welshpool. Now all Wales was in insurrection, and everywhere Owen was regarded as one who would deliver the Cymry from their hereditary oppressors. The rapid progress of his army spread terror along the Marches, and messengers on swift horses galloped to London to announce to the King that unless succour were sent his castles would fall.

In October, 1401, King Henry and the Prince of Wales entered the Principality at the head of a huge army, and pushed on to Bangor, only to find that the Welsh had retreated to the mountains, carrying off with them all their goods. The King passed along the coast to the abbey of Strata Florida in Cardiganshire, which he gave up to pillage and fire. Having succeeded in capturing about a thousand Welsh children without having fought a battle, Henry ingloriously withdrew.

About this time, moreover, Owen succeeded in getting hold of his great enemy Lord Grey de Ruthin, and sent him to his tower of Dolbadarn, there to languish until he could raise the heavy ransom which Owen, who was sorely in want of money, demanded for his release.

Henry Percy, unable to obtain payment for his services in Wales, and reimbursement for large sums laid out by himself in the King’s service, threw up his charge and retired to Northumbria to fight the Scots.

In May, 1402, Owen Glyndwr attacked the Welsh territories of young Edmund Earl of March, who, with his younger brother Roger, was held in custody by the King, on account of his having been acknowledged by Parliament to be the lineal heir to King Richard.

Sir Edmund Mortimer, their uncle and guardian, hastened to protect the lands, assisted by the other Marchers.

They met on the border in a narrow valley at Pilleth, near Knighton, and during the battle the Welsh tenants went over in a body to the side of Glyndwr. Eleven hundred men were killed, and Mortimer was captured.

Then ensued the dispute between Harry Hotspur and King Henry which has been immortalised by Shakespeare. Henry Percy’s wife was the sister of Sir Edmund Mortimer, and he was urgent for the ransoming of the captive. But King Henry was in sore straits for money, and he was, moreover, not particularly desirous to have the uncle of the true heir to the throne at large. What he did was to lead an army a third time into Wales, whilst a second was placed under the command of the Prince of Wales, and a third under that of the Earl of Warwick.

“Never within man’s memory had there been such a September in the Welsh mountains. The very heavens themselves seemed to descend in sheets of water upon the heads of these magnificent and well-equipped arrays. Dee, Usk, and Wye, with their boisterous tributaries that crossed the English line of march, roared bank-high, and buried all trace of the fords beneath volumes of brown tumbling water, while bridges, homesteads, and such flocks as the Welsh had not driven westward for safety were carried down to the sea.”⁷

Numbers died of exposure; the King’s tent was blown over upon him; and just a fortnight after having entered Wales in all the pomp and circumstance of war, the armies had to retreat, baffled, draggled, and dispirited, and fully persuaded that their great adversary was in league with the Spirit of Evil.

Meanwhile a friendship had sprung up between Mortimer and his captive, quickened by resentment against Henry, who had refused to ransom him, and this led to a closer tie, for he married Glyndwr’s fourth daughter, Joan.

Meantime, also, the anger of Harry Hotspur against the King had reached a head. He allied himself with the Scots, and marched upon Shrewsbury, unhappily for him without having concerted a plan of operations with Owen, who was away in the South of Wales, and unaware that the fiery Percy was about to engage the King.

Tradition will have it that Glyndwr hastened towards Shrewsbury, and watched the battle from a tall oak on the Welsh road from Shrewsbury, and made no attempt to strike at Henry from the rear. But this is false. Glyndwr, at the time, was in Carmarthen in total ignorance of the movements of Harry Percy.

The defeat of Shrewsbury was disastrous to the cause of the Welsh. Owen, having lost the assistance of his northern ally, entered into negotiations with the French, who sent him some aid, which was not very effective, and from this time his power began to decline. Now it was that Owen summoned a parliament of the Welsh to meet at Machynlleth, consisting of four persons of consequence out of every Cantref in the Principality.

One of those attending it was David ab Llewelyn, nicknamed Gam, or the “squint-eyed,” a little red-haired, long-armed, unprincipled man, who had been in the household of John of Gaunt. He was a native of Brecon, no relation to Owen, though he knew him intimately, and was trusted by him. Whether at the instigation of King Henry, or moved thereto by his own treacherous heart, we know not, but he framed a plot for the assassination of Owen during the conclave. One of the conspirators betrayed the design, and David Gam would have been executed but that his Brecon friends and relations intervened. Owen Glyndwr consented to remit the extreme penalty, and sent him for confinement in prison at Dolbadarn.

In 1405 Glyndwr’s forces met with a reverse at Monnow, where they attacked Prince Henry, and a battle was fought in which no quarter was given on either side, and again at Pwll Melyn, in Brecon, where fifteen hundred Welshmen fell, and among the slain was Owen’s brother.

The King, emboldened by these successes, himself marched against Owen, but Glyndwr was too cautious to risk another pitched battle, and Henry had to retire without having effected anything.

Little is known of Owen’s movements for some while, but his power was certainly on the decline. The King offered free pardon to all his adherents, excepting, however, Owen himself, and the Welsh wavered and many deserted him.

However, in 1407 he met with a notable though not far-reaching success.

Aberystwyth Castle was held for him, and Prince Henry determined to take it. At the head of a large force he invested the fortress, and was supplied with cannons sent from Yorkshire to Bristol, and thence transported by sea. Great stores of bows, arrows, stone shot, and sulphur were collected at Hereford. Woods on the banks of the Severn were cut down to furnish siege machinery, and a troop of carpenters was despatched from Bristol to erect scaffoldings and towers for the taking of the formidable castle. But all failed. The King’s particular cannon, weighing four and a half tons, that was discharged once in the hour, and made great noise but did little harm, did not frighten the besieged into surrender.

Prince Henry found the castle impregnable, and sat down before it to reduce it by starvation. Provisions began to fail within, and Glyndwr’s commander, Rhys ab Gruffydd, was constrained to open negotiations with the besiegers. It was agreed that unless the fortress were relieved by All Saints’ Day (November 1st) the Welsh garrison should surrender.

So confident was the Prince that Glyndwr could not throw any force into it, that he left Wales, and only an inconsiderable portion of his army remained to watch the castle.

Owen seized his opportunity, slipped unexpectedly into Aberystwyth with fresh forces, and defied the English once more.

In 1408 Owen’s dearly loved and faithful wife and Sir Edmund Mortimer’s children fell into the King’s hands when he captured Harlech, and they were sent to London.

Owen’s fortunes dwindled more and more; he was accompanied by a small band only, and was engaged in a guerilla warfare alone. What eventually became of him is unknown. It was said that finally, deserted by all, he wandered about the country in the disguise of a shepherd. It is supposed, with some good reason, that he found a refuge in the house of his married daughter at Monnington.

Prince Henry, when he ascended the throne, sent a special message of pardon to his brave old antagonist. At Monnington is a tower that bears Glyndwr’s name, and it is deemed to have been that he occupied, and in the churchyard is a stone without any name upon it, beneath which he is thought to lie.

Above Machynlleth, in the parish of Llanwrin, is Mathafarn, where lived a great poet and soothsayer, David Llwyd, who was a bitter opponent of Richard III., and a partisan of James Earl of Pembroke. He subsequently threw himself into the party of Henry Earl of Richmond, who is said to have stayed a night at Mathafarn on his way to Bosworth field in August, 1485. David Llwyd was regarded by his countrymen as invested with prophetic powers; and he had a tame sea-gull that perched on his shoulder, and was supposed to communicate the secrets of the future in his ear.

On the occasion of the visit of Henry of Richmond that prince asked him as to what would be the event of his contest with Richard. David begged to be allowed the night for consideration. He tossed in bed, unable to sleep, and his gull afforded him no counsel. Then his wife asked him why he was so restless. He told her what his difficulty was. “Fool,” said she; “prophesy success. If he succeeds, your future is made. If he fails, he will never return from the battlefield to reproach you.”

This satisfied the seer.

This adventure has given rise to a Welsh proverb: “Take a wife’s advice unasked.”

The story goes on to say that Henry heard what had occasioned the prophecy of good event, and he said, “Llwyd, as I shall win, lend me your grey horse.” David could not refuse. The earl rode the grey horse to Bosworth, but the grey mare remained at Mathafarn.

Some verses composed on Richard III. by the poet have been preserved. They have been thus rendered in English: —

 
“King Henry hath fought and bravely done,
Our friend the golden circlet hath won,
The bards re-echo the gladsome strain
For the good of the world crooked R is slain.
That straddling letter, so pale and sad,
In England’s realm no honour had.
For ne’er could R in the place of I
Rule England’s nation royally.”
 

The “R” so crooked stands for Richard, and the “I” so upright stands for Iorwerth, or Edward IV.

Above Mathafarn is Cemmes Road Station, and hence a branch line runs up the Dyfi to Mallwyd and Dinas Mawddwy. The lower portion of the valley, though pleasing, lacks grandeur, but the scenery improves as we ascend. George Borrow thus describes it: —

“Scenery of the wildest and most picturesque description was rife and plentiful to a degree; hills were here, hills were there; some tall and sharp, others huge and humpy; hills were on every side; only a slight opening to the west seemed to present itself. What a valley! I exclaimed. But on passing through the opening I found myself in another, wilder and stranger, if possible. Full to the west was a long hill rising up like the roof of a barn, an enormous round hill on its north-east side, and on its south-east the tail of the range which I had long had on my left – there were trees and groves and running waters, but all in deep shadow, for night was now close at hand.”

A stream enters the valley of the Dyfi at Mallwyd, and a capital road ascends it, crosses a shoulder, and descends into the valley of the Banw, leading ultimately to Welshpool. It was in the Cwm that opens upon Mallwyd and its ramifications that lurked the “Red-haired Banditti of Mawddwy.”

After the cessation of the Wars of the Roses many lawless men, bred to deeds of violence, found time hang heavy on their hands, and lacking employment, a certain number of outlaws or felons gravitated to this wild region, and made their headquarters in this valley, whence they sallied forth, marauding, cattle-lifting, and murdering. Robert Vaughan, the Welsh antiquary, who flourished shortly after, says that they never tired of

“robbing, burning of houses, and murthering of people, in soe much that being very numerous, they did often drive great droves of cattell somtymes to the number of a hundred or more from one countrey to another at middle day, as in tyme of warre, without feare, shame, pittie, or punishment, to the utter undoing of the poorer sort.”

The occupants of manor- and farm-houses had to fix scythes and spiked bars in their chimneys to prevent the marauders entering their houses by descending the wide chimneys at night. And within the memory of man many such have been removed.

At last a commission was issued to Lewis Owen, Baron of the Exchequer of Wales, and Sheriff of Merionethshire, to clear the country of them.

In pursuance of his orders, Owen raised a body of sturdy men, and stealing up the valley on Christmas Eve, 1554, when the robbers were keeping high revel, he fell on them and secured eighty, whom he tried and hanged on the spot.

The mother of two of the worst scoundrels vowed vengeance on Owen, and “baring her breasts” before him, shrieked in his face, “These yellow breasts have given suck to those who shall wash their hands in your blood.”

The headquarters of the band were at Dugoed Mawr on the Cann Office Road, and the place of the execution, a mound about thirty feet high, now overgrown with trees, on the Collfryn Farm estate.

On All Hallows’ Eve, 1555, hardly a year after the summary execution, Baron Owen was returning from the Montgomery Assizes with his brother-in-law and two servants, when he found the road blocked at a spot, since called Llidiart-y-Barwn, by fallen trees. They had been felled by some of the survivors of the band, who had waited for an opportunity to revenge the death of their fellows. The spot is two miles from Mallwyd on the Welshpool road.

As Owen drew up at the barrier, and his servants proceeded to remove the logs, a shower of arrows was discharged at him from the dense coppice. One struck him in the face, but he plucked it out and broke it. Then the ruffians sprang into the road and attacked him with bills and spears. His son-in-law, John Lloyd of Ceiswyn, defended him to the last, but his attendants fled at the first onset. Owen fell, covered with thirty wounds, and whilst he was still breathing, the brothers of the slain sons of the hag who had threatened him ripped the murdered man open, and actually washed their hands in his blood, so as to fulfil the curse cast at him by their mother.

From Dinas Mawddwy Aran may be ascended (2,972 feet), the highest mountain in Wales next to Snowdon, and perhaps commanding a finer view. It is one vast sponge, and he who attempts to climb it must be careful to avoid the bogs.

A good road follows the River Dyfi to the pass of Bwlch y Groes and thence to the head of Bala Lake.

About four miles above Dinas Mawddwy is Llan-y-Mawddwy, where the church is buried in yew trees. The church was founded by S. Tydecho. He led an eremitical life in this sequestered valley, and according to the legend made the Saethnant run with milk.

The report of his sanctity reached Maelgwn Gwynedd, and to make unpleasantness for him he sent him a stud of white horses and bade him pasture them for him. Tydecho turned them out on the mountains, where they fed on heather, and ran wild and were ungroomed. When the king sent for them they had turned yellow, at which he was very angry, and seized on the saint’s oxen as reprisal. Thereupon stags came from the forest and allowed themselves to be yoked to the plough, and a grey wolf lost its wildness and drew the harrow for him. Maelgwn came to hunt in the neighbourhood, and being wearied seated himself on a rock, and adhered to it, and could not leave till Tydecho released him; but as a token of the miracle left the impression of his person on the rock.

Cynan, prince of Powys, carried off Tegfedd, sister of Tydecho, who, however, struck the ravisher with blindness, and obliged him to restore the damsel unhurt, and to make over some lands in compensation for the rape.

The land of Tydecho was granted many privileges; amongst these was that of Gobr Merched. By Welsh laws, for every damsel who had been outraged the ravisher was required to pay a heavy fine. Tydecho’s land was granted the very questionable privilege of exemption from the law; in other words, that on it no girl was under the protection of the law from assault.

On a rock are shown four holes in the shape of a cross, said to mark the spot where the saint was wont to kneel in prayer.

It is possible that it was due to his father’s abusive epistle, which attacked Maelgwn of Gwynedd and Cuneglas or Cynlas of Powys so fiercely, that Tydecho had to leave North Wales. Apparently he retired to the same part of Brittany as his father and his brother Cennydd or Kenneth, and took up his abode in the Isle de Groix, where he is known as S. Tudy, and where he is held to have died.

Some delightful mountain expeditions may be made from Machynlleth, as up the River Castell to the two tarns whence it springs, Glaslyn and Bugeilyn, “The Shepherd’s Pool.” This latter and Llyn Morwynion, “The Fair Maids’ Tarn,” are about the only two in North Wales that produce “trout of an exceptionally fine quality – short, thick, strong fish, that fight hard when you hook them, and cut red as salmon and creamy as curd should you be lucky enough to induce a few to face the cucumber. I would rather waste my time and energies on making the acquaintance of half a dozen from either pool than I would in courting the problematical attentions of a Dovey sewin.”⁸

Moreover, the walk to the sources of the River Castell will amply reward the lover of scenery.

Then there is the ascent of the River Dulas, and the branch from the valley by a good road to Tal-y-Llyn under red crags, Graig Goch.

Another delightful walk of about five miles is to Llyn Penrhaiadr, and one can drive to about two miles from the lake. A little beyond the point where the carriage is quitted, Pistyll-y-Llyn, the waterfall from the lake, is reached. The water shoots over a tremendous shelf of rock and plunges into a dark pool below. It is one of the finest falls in Wales, and only lacks more trees about it to make it most impressive. Waterfalls are liable to pall on one. They are either of the type of the falls of the Rhine, of the Giesbach, or of the Staubbach, and when one has seen these, one does not particularly care for such as are inferior. Waterfalls cease to interest, but, to my mind, lakes never do. They are infinitely more varied, and lend themselves to finer pictures in a way that cascades do not. There are two other tarns near, lying rather higher than Llyn Penrhaiadr. A walker will do well to strike across to the head of the River Hengwm, where is another waterfall, and to follow the stream down under the splendid crags of Bwlch Hyddgen, then turn to the left by the Rhyd Wen, and Machynlleth is reached again.