The Goch, natural brother of Llywelyn, the last Prince of Wales. name Bettws is supposed to be derived from Bedw-Vals, brick-field. Within a mile distant is an iron bridge, consisting of a single arch of 105 feet in the span, and called the Waterloo Bridge, from the circumstance of its having been erected in the year in which the Battle of Waterloo was fought. It carries the Holyhead road over the Conway.

Returning to Capel Curig, we direct our steps into the VALE OF NANT GWYNANT, (the Vale of Waters) extending beneath the southern and western sides of Snowdon. On the left, about half-a-mile up the

valley, is a lofty wood-clad rock, called Dinas Emrys, the fort of Ambrosius, or Merlin Emrys, "one of the magi" who was summoned to this place from Caer Merddin (Caermarthenshire) by Vortigern, King of Britain from 449 to 466. Vortigern had retired to this place when he found himself neglected and despised by his subjects, and unable longer to contend with the faithless Saxons whom he had introduced into his kingdom. It is supposed that this insular rock afforded him a temporary residence, till he removed to his final retreat in Nant Gwrtheyrn, or Vortigern's Valley, in the promontory of Lleyn. Tradition records also that Vortigern, or his successor, bestowed the rocky hummock upon the favourite soothsayer whose name it bears. On the summit we are told that the learned astrologer expounded the secret wisdom of the skies to the trembling monarch, and his exploits may still be read, to the no small gratification of lay and clergy, in the curious notes upon Drayton by the no less learned Selden. And thus it is said or sung:

"Here prophetic Merlin sate, when to the British king
The changes long to come conspicuously he told;

And from the top of Brith, so high and wondrous steep,
Where Dinas Emrys stood, showed where the serpents fought
The white that tore the red, from whence the prophet wrought

The Britons' sad decay then shortly to ensue."

From the Vale of the Waters the distance is short and pleasant to

One of the most touching stories on record has given to this village an additional interest in Welsh history. Beddgelert is situated in a beautiful tract of meadows at the junction of three vales, near the conflux of Glaslyn and Colwyn, which flows through Nant Colwyn, a vale leading to Caernarvon. "Its situation was the fittest in the world," says Mr. Pennant, "to inspire religious meditations, amidst lofty mountains, woods, and murmuring streams." The church is

small, yet the loftiest in Snowdonia. It is dedicated to St. Mary. It was originally conventional, and belonged to a priory of Augustines. It was the most ancient foundation in North Wales, except Bardsey and Bangor Iscoed. Tanner ascribes it to Llywelyn, the last prince; but Rowlands has proved it to have been much more ancient even than the reign of Owen Gwynedd, as it obtained grants of lands, &c., from that prince, as well as from Llywelyn the Great. The expenses of the house must have been considerable, as religious places of this description, in former times, answered the threefold purposes of inns, almshouses, and hospitals. This was on the great road from England and South Wales into North Wales, and from Ireland and North Wales into England. In 1535 it was bestowed by Henry VIII. on the Abbey of Chertsey, in Surrey. On the dissolution, the King gave to the family of the Bodvels all the lands in Caernarvonshire which belonged to this Priory, and all those in Anglesey to that of the Prydderchs, excepting the township of Tre'r Beirdd. Edward Conway is mentioned as the last prior. The revenues of Beddgelert were valued at £70 3s. 8d. The parish of Beddgelert is the birth-place of two celebrated Welsh bards, Rhys Goch y Eryri and Rhys Nan Mor. Some of their compositions are still preserved. Rhys Goch is said to have lived at a place called Havod Garegog, and a stone, not far from Pont Aberglaslyn, is shown as his chair. The scene of Southey's Madoc is laid principally in this parish. Tradition affirms that Prince Madoc ab Owen Gwynedd (who is supposed first to have discovered America) resided in this parish, and used to attend worship in Nant Gwynant Chapel. Sir John Wynne informs us, that when the Earl of Pembroke's army took Harlech Castle, and from thence visited Nanhwynan, in Beddgelert, a noted chief, whose name was Robert ab Jevan, of the Lancastrian faction, used to lodge at night in the rock colled Ogo Velen, near Meillionen: this was about the year 1468. The pathetic ballad of Prince Llywelyn and his dog, by the Hon. W. R. Spencer, has given to Beddgelert more than a common interest. The tradition is, that one day the Prince went a hunting, and after proceeding some distance from his palace, discovered that his favourite hound, Kill-hart, (given him by King John,) was missing; the Prince returned in haste to examine the house, and after some time found the dog in the nursery, covered

with blood, and his child's cradle overturned.

The Prince, filled

with rage, stabbed him with his sword, concluding that he had destroyed his infant. What, however, must have been his surprise, when, on turning over the cradle, he found his child alive, and by his side the body of an enormous wolf, which his faithful dog had killed? On this discovery Llewelyn's grief for his dog was excessive; he had him honourably buried, and erected a place of worship over his grave, which has ever since borne the name of Beddgelert, or Kill-hart's Grave. Miss Costello has conveyed to us the legend in her own beautiful language:

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King John had given Llewellyn the Great not only his daughter Joanna in marriage, but as a prize little inferior, a fine greyhound, of superior breed and great beauty, who was wont to take the lead in all his expeditions, and to bring down the game in gallant style. The usual season of the chase arrived, and the Prince, his wife, and children had repaired to the hunting-ground in this valley. One day Llewellyn set forth, and had not gone far when he discovered that Gelert, his favourite hound, had lagged behind; he called him in vain, and, out of temper and impatient, he continued his way, and occupied himself in his sport, still, however, dwelling with vexation on the absence of his constant companion. On his return, as he was about to enter his dwelling, he was met by Gelert, who leaped upon him, and showed every demonstration of delight. The Prince angrily drove him off, and, as he did so, remarked that the jaws of the dog were covered with blood, that blood was on the floor and on the walls; a strange foreboding of evil stole over his mind: his infant son had been left in the cradle-no attendant was near-he tracked the crimson stains--they led him to the spot where his child reposedthe cradle was overturned, the infant gone, and a pool of blood was at its feet. Llewellyn allowed himself not a moment's time for reflection-Gelert was fawning beside the couch of his murdered child— his fangs were red with gore-he could not doubt but that the wretched animal had torn the sleeping babe, and drawing his sword, he plunged it into the body of the hound. At this instant he heard a cry-he darted forward, removed the confused heap before him, and, struggling beneath, he beheld his child uninjured, his tiny hands resting on the body of a giant wolf, which had been killed by Gelert

in his defence. What was now left for Llewellyn but remorse and late repentance?-he erected a tomb over the remains of the faithful dog, and the spot is called 'the Grave of Gelert' to this day.' There is a Welsh adage which alludes to this legend, 'He repents as much as the man who killed the dog,' and this would naturally lead one to imagine that the sad tale were indeed true; nevertheless, the same is told in many places, and seems originally to have come from the far East, where almost all beautiful stories had their birth. It is said to be engraven on a rock in Limerick; it is told in an old English romance; it is repeated in France; and it is the subject of a Persian drama."

In a field near the churchyard are two grey stones, overhung with bushes, pointing out the grave of "Gelert," and a rustic seat is placed close by for the convenience of visitors. Opposite Beddgelert is Moel Hebog (the Hill of Flight), which Lord Lyttleton ascended. In a bog near the mountain was found, in 1784, a curious brass shield, evidently Roman, as the Welsh despised every kind of defensive

armour.

The hotel, ycleped "the Goat Hotel," is a first-class hostelry, and the landlord seems to have earned “golden opinions,” as well as gold, from all degrees of tourists. This house, at one period of its history, bore the appropriate motto, "Patria mea Petra,”—my country is a rock. The Welsh harp is in daily requisition there, and the lively or pathetic sounds of Welsh minstrelsy add to the charms of this well-conducted hotel. A sojourn at this hospitium has been enjoyed, with true zest, by Southey, Wordsworth, and many other "best possible instructors" of the public mind; and it must not be forgotten that the charms of Beddgelert, which being ever new, are still adapted to communicate pleasure in as large a degree as at any former period. The Caernarvon and Tan-y-Bwlch mail passes twice a day through the village.

About five and a half miles from Beddgelert, on the road to Caernarvon, is LLYN CWELLYN, a lake of surpassing beauty. Evans says that the scenery here is not unlike that from Grenoble to Susan. On the south end of the pool is CASTELL CIDWM (the Wolf's Castle), and contiguous to it the far-famed spot called NANT MILL, which has ever been one of the favourite subjects of painters and poets. Plas-yn-y