Symud i'r prif gynnwys
Cuddio Rhestr Erthyglau

8 erthygl ar y dudalen hon



THE GLORY OF WALES. A Day's Mountaineering. Contrary to expectations, Whit Mon- day was a brilliantly tine day. The con- tinual downpour on Sunday was not a very good sign of fine weather, but sever- al of our local weather prophets, despite the rain, said that it would be fine on the morrow. How in the world people—es- pecially people of the farming fraternity— are able to foretell the weather, has al- ways been a puzzle to the mere house- dweller. The particular weather expert consulted, when asked on Sunday how he knew what sort of weather we were to have next day, said he could not explain hoiv he knew, but that, like his father be- fore him, he could smell the weather afar off. Incidentally it may be mentioned that Welshmen—Welsh agriculturists in particular—have built up a reputation among the nations of the earth, as seers of the weather. Evidently the faculty— like the poetical one—is a gift at birth, and not to be acquired by study hence it behoves us to be proud of the few re- maining seers, to whom we can appeal in times of trouble and distress. Fortified with our weather forecast, we determined to have a day's ramble ever the Welsh mountains—the glory of Wales. We had just finished reading High- ways and Byways in North Wales and were filled with the spirit of old-world romance; we had long ago read Wild Wales" and had often longed to taste the delights of a pilgrimage—if only for one short day-among the :hills and the dales that so delighted the soul of that genial and inimitable traveller—George Bor- j row. So, after a hearty breakfast, we set off. Before leaving Ruabon, we caught a glimpse of the park gates ot Wynnstay, and the sight reminded us of the part played by a former Sir Watkin, in the Irish rebellion of '98, when he took with him two hundred fiery Welshmen to help to quell the rebellion. The majority of Sir Watkin "s Welshmen were recruited from Rhos and Cetn, and when the scene of battle was reached, it is chronicled that the Welshmen soon routed the Irish, by chasing them with staffs hewn from z> trees on the Wynnstay estate. On the return of Sir Watkin and his Welsh bri- gade to Ruabon, they were hailed as heroes by their countrymen, and to com- memorate the occasion, Sir Warkin gave a mugdificent banquet in Wynnstay park, where whole bullocks were roastei in the open. Even to-day the remarkable ad- ventcre is mentioned with pride in the Welsh villages on the Denbigh border. Passing through Cefn, with its grime aMd smoke, we were climbing the mountain at tne oot of Vroncysyllte. It was here that Hazieit oi;ce paused, and paced up and do, n for an hour, so taken up wa" he with the beautiful scenery. Af- terwards he w'e ol the scene from Vron- cysyUte a- o >e uf the most pictur- e que he had ever seen The climb tb-- foot of the moun- tain at C,. ve y -it,. IT piece of wo: k, ar-J when the u-p w-»s re ched, we wire to le-tag-unst an oak tree to re- Cover our ")Çnr breath. The distance fro-n Vron to G ynceii toalthough a good eight miles, is not tedious. There is a change c.f a-id c^iour at every tvrr. As; Yva kin-r 'hrou^h a narrow path cut through clusters of f*r trees, we came across a drover eating his b-ead and cheese in blissful enjoyment. The sight stirred us. Visions ot a well-spread ta- ble for a time blotted the landscape. We arrived at Glynceiriog in time for dinner, and preparatory to sitting down to it, we stretched ourselves in the large basket chairs in the smoke room. One of our party broke the delicious silence of our short rest by beginning to talk polit- ics, but a well-aimed cushion choked his utterance and crumpled a 44 capstan." Dinner over, we were off again, our faces set for Llanarmon. On the way we had a peep at a farm house called Pont 1 y Meibion, where once lived Huw Mor- ris, one of the greatest of Welsh bards. The poet now lies beneath the quiet shade of a yew tree in the little churchyard of Llansilin. George Borrow, when passing through Glynceiriog paid a visit to his grave, and takmg off his hat, recited some verses of 44 the mighty Huw, the greatest songster of the seventeenth cen- tury." The walk from Glynceiriog to Llanar- J nvoa is a most interesting one. Taking the road past the gracite works, you cover five miles before Llanarmon is reached. The river Ceiriog winds itself along within hearing distance all the way, aod enters Llangollen under one of the quaint little stone bridges in Wales. Liar a rmon is a small village with a large reputation. The birthplace of Ceiriog—- a long, rámshdckJe looking farmhoue- spreads, or rather, sprawls itself en the slope of the mountain. True, the poet is and gone, but the uihige still har- bours a genius. We found him presid- ing at the "Plough," au old red-washed inti and a right royal welcome did he give u". Seated on a settle in a corner of the low-roofed old-fashioned kitchen, he held forth to our heart's content. He accepted one of I be party's thoughtful ot- lvr to partake of refreshment, and hand- led his jug with the adroitness of one of W. W. Jacob's wharfingers. He simply revelled in stories. Indeed we had to tear ourselves from his interesting pres- ence in order to reach Nantyr, the next hamlet, in time for tea. From Llanarmon to Nantyr is a climb of about four miles of heavy mountain. The hamlet itself is a collection of stray houses in a hollow of the mountains. Here. any of the housewives will be only too pleased to make the traveller a cup of tea, and to place before him the treasures her cupboard. Calling at one of the first houses, we sat down to tea with a young farmer and his wife. We were told to help ourselves, and did so, freely and of- ten. But with all our appitite, the young farmer beat us easily. His cup was hand- ed over at regular intervals to be silently refilled, and when we had finished he was extending his hand for his fifth cup. The journey from Nantyr to Llangollen is unequalled for grandeur. We trudged tor a long time in silence, the spell of the mountains, so blissfully ignorant of their own greatness, stilling our tongues. We reached Lllangollen just in time to witness a most gorgeous sunset over the Berwyn range. The place was full of trippers, and alive with gaiety. Unlike Borrow, we welcomed the clang of the railway bell, and were glad to find ourselves in a carriage bound for Rhos.





.---_---' Great Thunderstorm…

Rhos man's good Fortune,

IBand and Choral Competition…