considered as the centre of the woollen manufactory in this part of the
country, principally of the strong cloth, or high country cloth. {112}
The situation of Machynlleth (or as it is pronounced by the Welsh,
Mahunthleth), is extremely romantic; stupendous mountains forming a
natural rampart round the town. This town is supposed to have been the
Maglona of the Romans, and where, in the name of Honorius, a Lieutenant
was stationed to awe the mountaineers. It is 206 miles from London, and
33 from Montgomery: its population, 1,595 persons. We here visited the
neglected mansion where Owen Glyndour assembled the states of the
principality, in the year 1402, and accepted from their hands the crown
of Wales. Part of the house is now converted into a butcher’s shop:—
“Sic transit gloria mundi.”
In fine, the only evident remains of its ever having been celebrated in
the annals of history, is a spacious door-way. The town itself, in many
parts, bears the appearance of antiquity: the streets are considerably
wider than Welsh towns in general, and the market-place is well-built:
tanning and the manufacture of flannels and webs constitute the principal
employment of the inhabitants.
As we entered Machynlleth, being the first town in North Wales, we were
in a manner instinctively induced to reflect on the various incidents
that had befallen us from our first sallying forth on our pedestrian
excursion. We took a retrospect of all our little troubles with equally
as much delight as the sailor, who, by the blessing of Providence, has
escaped the most imminent dangers: all our past imaginary dangers (for
imaginary evils are frequently worse than real ones) were overbalanced
with reflections on the many hours of pleasure that were flown unheeded
by: these reflections brought to my recollection some interesting lines
in Bowles’s sonnets, which I involuntarily exclaimed aloud:
“Fair scenes, ye lend a pleasure long unknown
To him who passes weary on his way;
The farewell tear which now he turns to pay
Shall thank you, and whene’er of pleasures flown
His heart some long-lost image would renew,
Delightful haunts! he will remember you.”
At the village of Kevn Kaer are the remains of an oval camp, a wall, and
ditch: evidently Roman, from the coins and other antiquities found there.
The sublimity of the walk to Talylyn literally “beggars description.”
Having crossed a bridge of eight arches, thrown over the river Dovey,
high mountains closed us on every side, shook into every possible form of
horror; huge masses of rock hung over our path, and it seemed necessary
to remember their firm basis, to soften the terror they inspired; whilst
other mis-shapen fragments lay scattered at the side of the road. The
transparent Dyflas, whose clear surface reflected the tremulous picture
in all its colours, forms one continued cataract for five or six miles,
overflowing with the innumerable tributary torrents which hurry
themselves down from the highest summit of the surrounding rocks; whilst,
to give effect to the whole prospect, the shaggy head of Cader Idris
towers, the majestic sentinel of the scene, whose “cloud capt” summit the
eye aches in surveying. To our great disappointment, the weather
prevented our ascending this celebrated mountain giant. Cader Idris is
esteemed, in height, the second mountain in all Wales, rising two
thousand eight hundred and fifty feet above the green of Dolgelly. {114}
If the weather proves favourable to ascend Cader Idris, travellers may be
very comfortably accommodated with beds at