We left Lleweney, and went forwards on our journey.
We came to Abergeley, a mean town, in which little but Welsh is spoken,
and divine service is seldom performed in English.
Our way then lay to the sea-side, at the foot of a mountain, called
Penmaen Rhôs. Here the way was so steep, that we walked on the lower
edge of the hill, to meet the coach, that went upon a road higher on the
hill. Our walk was not long, nor unpleasant: the longer I walk, the less
I feel its inconvenience. As I grow warm, my breath mends, and I think
my limbs grow pliable.
We then came to Conway Ferry, and passed in small boats, with some
passengers from the stage coach, among whom were an Irish gentlewoman,
with two maids, and three little children, of which, the youngest was
only a few months old. The tide did not serve the large ferry-boat, and
therefore our coach could not very soon follow us. We were, therefore,
to stay at the Inn. It is now the day of the Race at Conway, and the
town was so full of company, that no money could purchase lodgings. We
were not very readily supplied with cold dinner. We would have staid at
Conway if we could have found entertainment, for we were afraid of
passing Penmaen Mawr, over which lay our way to Bangor, but by bright
daylight, and the delay of our coach made our departure necessarily
late. There was, however, no stay on any other terms, than of sitting up
all night.
The poor Irish lady was still more distressed. Her children wanted rest.
She would have been content with one bed, but, for a time, none could be
had. Mrs. Thrale gave her what help she could. At last two gentlemen
were persuaded to yield up their room, with two beds, for which she gave
half a guinea. Our coach was at last brought, and we set out with some
anxiety, but we came to Penmaen Mawr by daylight; and found a way,
lately made, very easy, and very safe.[1224] It was cut smooth, and
enclosed between parallel walls; the outer of which secures the
passenger from the precipice, which is deep and dreadful. This wall is
here and there broken, by mischievous wantonness.[1225] The inner wall
preserves the road from the loose stones, which the shattered steep
above it would pour down. That side of the mountain seems to have a
surface of loose stones, which every accident may crumble. The old road
was higher, and must have been very formidable. The sea beats at the
bottom of the way.
At evening the moon shone eminently bright; and our thoughts of danger
being now past, the rest of our journey was very pleasant. At an hour
somewhat late, we came to Bangor, where we found a very mean inn, and
had some difficulty to obtain lodging. I lay in a room, where the other
bed had two men.