LLYN Y CWM BYCHAM,
or, the lake of the little hollow, on the opposite margin of which, the wild and dismal Carrey-y-Saeth, the rock of the arrow, rears its black head in fearful grandeur. Cwm Bychan, is a grassy dell, surrounded on all sides by the most frightful sterility; which while we gazed with wonder on the sublimity of the scene, made us shudder at the utter desolation it presented. A poor cottage stands on the farther end of the valley, from which, having obtained a plentiful supply of milk, we dismounted, and, fastening our steeds to the gates, we seated ourselves under the shade of two trees, upon the inviting grass, which, like the smiles of the world, proved but too treacherous; many a scream and laugh announcing that the boggy soil had paid no respect to the garments of either sex. Stones were therefore procured, and, having ranged them in a magic circle, the whole party seated themselves to partake of the good cheer, which a sturdy Welshman had borne upon his shoulders, and who now advanced into the middle of the ring. Knives and forks began to play with astonishing celerity. Fowls, ham, tongue, &c. &c., vanished as if by enchantment; and mirth and good humour added zest to the repast.
In this hollow there dwelt a witch called Janet, and a story is told, which, as its wildness is well adapted to the scenery, I will endeavour to relate. The circumstances are said to have been confessed by old Janet, when under the last torture.