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Nobody, however, had given a line to pretty Nelw Evans; so I pencilled her a rhyme, for which I was well paid in dimples: "At the Inn called the Penygwryd A sweet little maiden is hid. She's so rosy and pretty I write her this ditty And leave it at Penygwryd." Our next halt was at Bettws-y-Coed, where we passed the week-end.
Her works have been exhibited in London at the Royal Society of British Artists and the Society of Lady Artists, and have been sold from these exhibitions. I quote from the Queen, in reference to one of Miss Spurr's London exhibitions: "We know of no more favorite sketching-ground in N. Wales for the artist than Bettws-y-coed.
Jack Copley declared that it made capital sense, and sounded as if it had happened exactly as stated. Perhaps you will agree with him: . . . We left Bettws-y-Coed yesterday morning, and coached thirty- three miles to this point. I always enoyw a Festiniog yn any country, and my hheart beat hhigh with anticipation.
Bettws-y-Coed is the most famous of mountain towns in Wales, and its situation is indeed romantic. It is generally reputed to be the chief Welsh honeymoon resort and a paradise for fishermen, but it has little to detain the tourist interested in historic Britain.
David Cox's painting of the Royal Oak at Bettws-y-Coed was the subject of prolonged litigation, the sign being valued at £1000, the case being carried to the House of Lords, and there decided in favour of the freeholder. Sometimes strange notices appear in inns. The following rather remarkable one was seen by our artist at the "County Arms," Stone, near Aylesbury:
One of the prettiest places for sketching, as well as a spot where the fisherman's skill is often rewarded, is Bettws-y-Coed.
Also there is Bertram Ferguson, whom we call "Atlas" because he carries the world on his shoulders, gazing more or less vaguely and absent-mindedly at all the persons and things in the universe not in need of immediate reformation. We had journeyed by easy stages from Liverpool through Carnarvon, Llanberis, Penygwyrd, Bettws-y-Coed, Beddgelert, and Tan-y-Bulch.
"Here lies an old woman of Bettws-y-CoED; Wherever she went, it was there that she goED. She frequently said: 'My own row have I hoED, And likewise the church water-mark have I toED. I'm therefore expecting to reap what I've sowED, And go straight to heaven from Bettws-y-CoED."
We are coaching in Wales, having journeyed by easy stages from Liverpool through Llanberis, Penygwryd, Bettws-y-Coed, Beddgelert and Dolgelly on our way to Bristol, where we shall make up our minds as to the next step; deciding in solemn conclave, with floods of argument and temperamental differences of opinion, what is best worth seeing where all is beautiful and inspiring.
We evidently should have fared much differently at its splendid hotel from what we did at Cerrig-y-Druidion, but we were never sorry for our enforced sojourn at the Saracen's Head. The road from Bettws-y-Coed to Carnarvon is a good one, but steep in places, and it passes through some of the finest mountain scenery in Wales.
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