way eastward of
Festiniog is very wild and barren, consisting of huge hills without trees
or verdure. About three miles' distance, however, there is a beautiful
valley, which you look down upon from the southern side of the road,
after having surmounted a very steep ascent. This valley is fresh and
green and the lower parts of the hills on its farther side are, here and
there, adorned with groves. At the eastern end is a deep, dark gorge, or
ravine, down which tumbles a brook in a succession of small cascades.
The ravine is close by the road. The brook after disappearing for a time
shows itself again far down in the valley, and is doubtless one of the
tributaries of the Tan y Bwlch river, perhaps the very same brook the
name of which I could not learn the preceding day in the vale.

As I was gazing on the prospect an old man driving a peat cart came from
the direction in which I was going. I asked him the name of the ravine
and he told me it was Ceunant Coomb or hollow-dingle coomb. I asked the
name of the brook, and he told me that it was called the brook of the
hollow-dingle coomb, adding that it ran under Pont Newydd, though where
that was I knew not. Whilst he was talking with me he stood uncovered.
Yes, the old peat driver stood with his hat in his hand whilst answering
the questions of the poor, dusty foot-traveller. What a fine thing to be
an Englishman in Wales!

In about an hour I came to a wild moor; the moor extended for miles and
miles. It was bounded on the east and south by immense hills and moels.
On I walked at a round pace, the sun scorching me sore, along a dusty,
hilly road, now up, now down. Nothing could be conceived more cheerless
than the scenery around. The ground on each side of the road was mossy
and rushy--no houses--instead of them were neat stacks, here and there,
standing in their blackness. Nothing living to be seen except a few
miserable sheep picking the wretched herbage, or lying panting on the
shady side of the peat clumps. At length I saw something which appeared
to be a sheet of water at the bottom of a low ground on my right. It
looked far off--"Shall I go and see what it is?" thought I to myself.
"No," thought I. "It is too far off"--so on I walked till I lost sight
of it, when I repented and thought I would go and see what it was. So I
dashed down the moory slope on my right, and presently saw the object
again--and now I saw that it was water. I sped towards it t