LLYN TEGID, OR BALA LAKE.
Seated upon a rock that projects into the lake (under the shadow of which is the boat house of Mr. Price, of Rhewlas, of whom, more anon) I commenced my solitary pastime; but my eyes continually wandered from the float, to the surrounding scenery, which is of a pleasing rather than an imposing nature. The lake was slightly ruffled by a refreshing breeze, which fortunately sprang up, and prevented me from dissolving in the heat of the sun. It is about four miles in length, and in some parts it is forty yards in depth. The shores are sloping, the soil gravelly, and delightfully variegated with plantations of trees and shrubs. Towards the head of the lake, the mountains are upon a very grand scale, and rival Snowdon in their altitude; Arran Fowddwy is the loftiest of these, near the summit of which, upon its eastern side, beneath a huge crag, is situated a lake, which affords excellent sport to the angler, although the fish are not of the finest quality.
Arrenig Vawr, (or great), which is nearly as lofty as Arran Fowddwy, and rises upon the N.W. side of the Llyn, has also a lake, containing trout of a large size, which are noted for rejecting the artificial fly; but, about half way up the Arrenig Vâch, (or little) is a lake, which when a light breeze sweeps along its surface, will amply reward the angler for his trouble, in reaching it. A morning, and an evening, at each of these places, enable me to state thus much, for the benefit of the disciples of Isaac Walton.
I was suddenly aroused from a dream of pleasure, which I was enjoying, with my eyes open, by a tug at my line, reminding me, that a fish had swallowed the hook. After a little coquetting, which lovers usually make use of, I brought it to my arms, and then thrust it into my bag; a fine perch! I now resolved, to begin in earnest, and in an hour, by my temptation and insinuation, contrived to obtain a very handsome dish, with which I returned upon my pony to the inn, resigning them and myself to the care of Martha Jones. This was the only uncomfortable evening I passed at the Bull—and with respect be it spoken, all my uneasiness was occasioned, by the magistrates of the county, who had met to discuss the important business of their various districts, and to join in the
“Feast of dainties and the flow of port.”
All the while, the honest landlord, who resembled a “turtle on his hind fins,” waddled about in high glee. It was a great day for the Bull’s Head! and his joy resembled Dennis Bulgruddery’s, of the Red Cow, when he saw a traveller on the heath, walking in the direction of his long neglected hostelry. The confusion of sounds distracted my brain, and I was almost tempted to exclaim, in the language of Falstaff,
“Is hell broke loose?”
However, remembering that it was occasioned, by a meeting of magistrates, my reverence for the laws, and the distributors of them, made me place my disabled foot upon a chair, “like patience on a monument, smiling at grief.”
I was informed that Mr. Price was among the assembly, to whom, through the kindness of Mr. W—, I had a letter of introduction. My accident, however, would prevent my dining with the party, and I concluded it would be better to wait until the ensuing morning, to pay my respects to him. A couple of ducks, with green peas, and a pint of pale sherry, assisted to restore my good humour; and, after poring over the pages of an old magazine, till the book became a pillow for my head, I had my foot dressed and resigned myself to the influence of Morpheus. My bed room window (the blinds of which, I had neglected to pull down, before I retired to bed) permitted the full blaze of the morning sun to shine upon my slothful pillow, and rouse me from my slumber. A great fault, in all the Welsh inns, is that Morpheus seems to have complete and undisputed prevalence over the whole household. After satisfying myself that I could walk across the room, I thought I would endeavour to see something more of the town, and stroll about, until such time as breakfast could be prepared. I accordingly dressed, put on the spacious slippers I had been provided with on the previous night, took a strong ash stick in my hand, by way of crutch, and hobbled into the pure air.
The town of Bala consists of one long street, has about 2500 inhabitants, and is celebrated for its manufacture of woollen articles, such as stockings, gloves, and, formerly, Welsh wigs. Upon an eminence at the S. E. end of the town, the old women and young girls assemble in considerable numbers during the summer months, to pursue their industrious avocations in the open air. The mound is called, Tommen y Bala; it is said to be of Roman construction; and, from the summit, a very fine view may be obtained of Llyn Tegid and the mountains. There is a town hall, and a chapel of ease to the parish church at Llanycil, about a mile distant, where the morning service is read in English only upon the first Sunday in each month. Finding my exertion too great for my ease, I was glad to hobble into the shop of the village apothecary and surgeon. It was half past eight o’clock, and the drowsy shop boy, who appeared but recently to have left his bed, informed me, that perhaps his master would be down in a short time. This indefinite period did not suit my patience, and I requested him to give his master a call. Still he came not. I became fidgetty, and began to be indignant, half resolving to leave the shop, when a little, stiff, consequential looking personage made his appearance, gazing upon me with a look in which much dissatisfaction was manifest. My travelling garb (for I had not discarded my shooting jacket, at this early hour, in favour of a more appropriate morning costume) did not inspire him with much suavity; but, after a minute survey, he, with all the dignity of five feet, pointed to a chair, which I a short time before had quitted to look at some maps that adorned the walls of the room, I bared my ancle for his inspection, and he informed me truly, that rest alone could be of service to me. With this comfortable advice, which I had previously determined not to follow, I returned to the inn, breakfasted, ordered out the pony, and set off to visit Mr. Price, of Rhewlas.
A handsome gateway opens into the grounds of Rhewlas; a neat lodge is situated upon the right of the avenue, and upon the left, a fine mountain stream dashes over its black, rocky bed. Half way up the avenue, upon the right, is a beautiful dingle, over which a bridge is thrown for the accommodation of passengers, and under it a murmuring rill, glides on its course to the principal stream. A profusion of rhododandrums, of a kind, are interspersed amongst the trees, and shrubs, forming a delightful contrast. Here the noble oak, the beech, and birch, flourish luxuriously in common with the other numerous leafy tenants of the forest, whose ever varying hues delight the eye.
The house is situated on a rising ground, backed by the mountain and extensive woods, and commands a noble prospect.
After dinner, I accompanied Mr. Price in his phaeton, to take a survey of the estate, and was much delighted with the evident pleasure he took, in improving the roads in the neighbourhood. Under his auspices, a new line of road is joined to Corwen, which, although deficient in picturesque beauty, is shorter by one mile than that by Llandrillo, and affords far better travelling.
Mr. Price has planted, during his residence at this lovely spot, no less than 650 acres, and the domain altogether presents a picture of beauty and happiness, seldom to be met with. He is much respected; is a magistrate, and a resident; and, in consequence, knows the value of his land. He considers, and administers to the wants of his tenants, and, instead of extorting from them a rent they would be compelled to starve themselves to pay, he limits it to a sum which will enable them to live in comfort.
It was twilight when I left Rhewlas, and by the side of the dingle I have before mentioned, I paused to gaze once more upon the beauty of the scene, and traced a few lines, expressive of my feelings, upon quitting so delightful a solitude.
Farewell to fair Rhewlas! and farewell to thee,
Thou pride of the vallies, thou fast flowing Dee!
Whose stream glides in brightness from Bala’s fair breast,
And wanders in beauty through regions of rest.
Farewell to thee, Rhewlas! how blest were my lot,
With friends round and near me, the gay world forgot,
Here, here, in the soft lap of quiet to dwell,
Farewell to thee Rhewlas! sweet Rhewlas, farewell!The bright golden summer hath fill’d thee with glee—
The song of the thrush, and the boom of the bee,
The wild flowers’ fragrance, the breath of the rose,
And green woods that kiss the dark stream as it flows:
To scenes grand and gloomy my footsteps may stray,
Where terror frowns dreadful along the wild way,
But beauty for aye in this region shall dwell,
Farewell to thee, Rhewlas! sweet Rhewlas, farewell!
I returned to the inn, much pleased with my day’s entertainment, happy to find that my ancle was comparatively easy, and ordered a car to be ready on the following morning to convey me ten miles on the road to Dolgelly.
Rising early, I found no inconvenience from my ancle; and, after a good breakfast, took leave of my host, and his wife, of Martha Jones, and the Bull’s Head, all of whom appeared anxious to see me comfortably seated in the vehicle, and with kindest farewells, expressed a desire of speedily seeing me again—all excepting the Bull’s Head, poor thing, which being a dummy only looked a good bye; and taking every thing into consideration, he looked it very well.
The car in which I was bumped along the road, in every respect resembled those delightful conveyances that rattle the astonished traveller from Cork to Blarney. It is a sort of oval box, placed upon two wheels, with a door behind, and with good wedging will contain four persons; but being springless and cushionless, the passenger is jolted to his heart’s content, that is, if his heart has been set on jolting; and, without doubt, it is fine exercise for persons of sedentary habits, if by any chance, their bones happen to escape dislocation. My knapsack (my opposite, and only fellow passenger) and I, looked very black at each other, as we bobbed up and down, like a cockney grocer’s apprentice upon a high trotting horse; but I soon became resigned, and my knapsack having shifted its berth for the bottom of the vehicle, seemed to rest more comfortably than on the seat. Notwithstanding the inconvenience I suffered from this carriage, I could not help admiring the extreme beauty of the lake, as we pursued our course along its borders; sometimes, only catching a glimpse of it, through the trees that shaded its delightful margin. Its waters were smooth and motionless; not a ripple was visible upon its surface; the lofty mountains reflected in its breast gave a sombre tinge to the otherwise golden scene, and, as I looked into the clear depths of the shadows, I thought, how peacefully one shattered by the storms of life might sink beneath, and be at rest!
After passing Llanthyn, (an estate belonging to Sir W. W. Wynn, who claims the whole fishing of this beautiful piece of water, and has, by putting a quantity of pike therein, destroyed all the trout and gwynniad with which it once abounded), the scenery became wild, and cheerless, until we reached