d
committed the sin against the Holy Ghost, is frequently mentioning the
work of Elis Wyn. Amongst other things, he says that he took particular
delight in its descriptions of the torments of hell. We have no doubt
that many an Englishman, of honest Welsh Peter's gloomy temperament, when
he reads the work in its present dress will experience the same kind of
fearful joy.

The translation is accompanied by notes explanatory of certain passages
of the original beyond the comprehension of the common reader. These
notes are good, as far as they go, but they are not sufficiently
numerous, as many passages relating to ancient manners and
customs--perfectly intelligible, no doubt, to the translator--must, for
want of proper notes, remain dark and mysterious to his readers. In the
Vision of Hell, a devil, who returns from the world to which he has been
despatched, and who gives an account of his mission, says that he had
visited two young maidens in Wales who were engaged in turning the shift.
Not a few people--ladies, amongst the rest--will be disposed to ask what
is meant by turning the shift. Mr. Borrow gives elsewhere the following
explanation: 'It was the custom in Britain in ancient times for the young
maiden who wished to see her future lover to sit up by herself at
Hallowmass Eve, wash out her smock, shift, or chemise, call it which of
the three you please, place it on a linen-horse before the fire, and
watch it whilst drying, leaving the door of the room open, in the belief
that exactly as the clock began to strike twelve the future bridegroom
would look in at the door, and remain visible till the twelfth stroke had
ceased to sound.'

Of the notes which Mr. Borrow has given, the most important is certainly
that which relates to Taliesin, who, in the Vision of Death, is described
as sitting in Hades, watching a caldron which is hanging over a fire, and
is continually going bubble, bubble. We give it nearly entire:--

'Taliesin lived in the sixth century. He was a foundling, discovered
in his infancy lying in a coracle on a salmon weir, in the domain of
Elphin, a prince of North Wales, who became his patron. During his
life he arrogated to himself a supernatural descent and
understanding, and for at least a thousand years after his death he
was regarded by the descendants of the ancient Britons as a prophet
or something more. The poems which he produced procured for him the
tit