ANGLESEA, the Mona of the Romans and the Mon {1} or Ultima Thule of its
still more ancient occupants, is the most western county of North Wales.
Its shores are washed on the north, west, and south by the waves of the
Irish sea, while the Mænai strait insinuates itself between this shire
and Caernarvon. Here the beautiful scenery associated with the name of
Cambria is only to be enjoyed in the distant prospect, the level,
unwooded surface of the island presenting nothing of pictorial or
romantic interest. Only two eminences of any consequence, vary the
monotony of the landscape, Holyhead Mountain and Parry’s Hill, the latter
containing that wonderfully productive mine of copper, whence two
families, now ennobled, have drawn the chief parts of their princely
fortunes.
The consecrated groves of this district, suited to the deep and wild
mysteries of the arch-druid, became extinct soon after the destruction of
the order itself by the Romans, under Agricola; but the celebration of
the savage festivals of this mysterious people—
“Rites of such strange potency
As done in open day, would dim the son,
Though throned in noontide brightness,”
are attested by the existence of numerous cromlechs, circles, and
sacrificing stones, in every direction over the island.
The Cambrian Alps present a scene of great beauty, dignity, and
sublimity, to the inhabitants of Anglesea. Emerging from the sea below
Caenarvon Bay, and ascending gradually to their point of culmination in
the peak of Snowdon, they descend again in shattered ridges towards the
north, where the lofty Penmaen Mawr terminates the chain. No rivers of
importance diversify the surface of this insulated county; but the banks
of the Mænai strait are delightfully wooded and adorned with numerous
seats and villas. The towns of Caernarvon and Beaumaris, as well as the
city of Bangor, are agreeably seated on its opposing shores.