s a pity Mr Williams, who, in spite of his contempt
for the ancient Britons, was as true a Welshman as ever ate his leek,
had not been of the council of war of Caractacus--for it _was_ the
scene of his great struggle we were passing. The ground still bears
the name of Slaughter Field, and was a fit altar on which to offer the
last victims to national freedom. The scenery all round it is of the
noblest character--rock and wood, and the mountain chain that they
hoped had shut out the invader. The river bends round it, and enables
you to keep for a long time in view the plain where the battle was
fought, and the rude remains of what is considered to have been the
Roman encampment. After an hour or two delightfully spent in gliding
under enormous cliffs, and winding among woods of all hues and sizes,
hanging over the precipice, and waving their branches almost down to
the water's edge, we arrived at our point of destination, a high rock
called Simon's Yatt, which our agreeable companion described as the
finest thing in the world. On bringing to at the landing-place, we
found we had nearly a mile to walk up a steep road, newly escarped on
the side of the hill; and setting ourselves manfully to the effort, we
began our march--Williams insisted on being the useful member of the
party. He offered, in the plenitude of his strength, to carry the
shawls, to carry a couple of children, to carry ourselves; he thought
nothing of weights; he was used to hard labour; he rather liked some
difficult thing to do; and finally, nearly broke down under the burden
of one of the provision baskets; stopping every now and then to rest,
and evidently over-tasked. The day was very hot--the soil was a red
ironstone--there was no shelter from the pervading sun--and the ascent
was on an inclination of at least one foot in six; at last, however,
urged on by a desire to enjoy the prospect--and the lunch--and also
with a malicious intention, shared by the whole party, to walk our
companion to death, we surmounted all difficulties, wound round a
rocky eminence at the top, and suddenly found ourselves on a
beautifully wooded platform, six or seven hundred feet above the
river, and in the enjoyment of the most surprising view we ever saw.
The river Wye takes a sharp turn round the foot of this enormous
projection, not only winding round the extremity, but actually flowing
down on one side exactly as it flowed up on the other, leaving Simon's
Yatt as a sort