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Updated: June 4, 2025
And there as I sat I had a dream what did I dream about? the sermon, musing upon which I had been overcome by sleep? not a bit! I dreamt about a widely-different matter. Methought I was in Llangollen fair in the place where the pigs were sold, in the midst of Welsh drovers, immense hogs and immense men whom I took to be the gents of Wolverhampton.
Alger's account of his visit to the Vale of Llangollen, where Lady Eleanor Butler and Miss Ponsonby passed their peaceful days in long, uninterrupted friendship. Of course the haunts of Burns, the home of Scott, the whole region made sacred by Wordsworth and the group to which he belongs would be so many shrines to which I should make pilgrimages.
He led me into a sleeping- room on the right hand, where in a corner he showed me an antique three-cornered arm-chair. "That chair," said he, "my grandsire won at Llangollen, at an Eisteddfod of Bards. Various bards recited their poetry, but my grandfather won the prize. Ah, he was a good poet. He also won a prize of fifteen guineas at a meeting of bards in London."
Now if I add there was much gabbling of Welsh round about, and here and there some slight sawing of English that in the street leading from the north there were some stalls of gingerbread and a table at which a queer-looking being with a red Greek-looking cap on his head, sold rhubarb, herbs, and phials containing the Lord knows what, and who spoke a low vulgar English dialect, I repeat, if I add this, I think I have said all that is necessary about Llangollen Fair."
Nothing before had ever made me thoroughly realise, though I had read various scientific books, that science consists in grouping facts so that general laws or conclusions may be drawn from them. Next morning we started for Llangollen, Conway, Bangor, and Capel Curig. This tour was of decided use in teaching me a little how to make out the geology of a country.
Another point of almost equal difficulty occurred near Ty-Nant, through the rocky pass of Glynn Duffrws, where the road was confined between steep rocks and rugged precipices: there the way was widened and flattened by blasting, and thus reduced to the general level; and so on eastward to Llangollen and Chirk, where the main Shrewsbury road to London was joined.*
In the afternoon of Wednesday I went and took leave of certain friends in the town; amongst others of old Mr Jones. On my telling him that I was about to leave Llangollen, he expressed considerable regret, but said that it was natural for me to wish to return to my native country. I told him that before returning to England I intended to make a pedestrian tour in South Wales.
"Has Llangollen ale," said I, after tasting the second glass, "ever been sung in Welsh? is there no englyn upon it?" "No," said the old church clerk, "at any rate, that I am aware." "Well," said I, "I can't sing its praises in a Welsh englyn, but I think I can contrive to do so in an English quatrain, with the help of what you have told me. What do you think of this?
The other great aqueduct on the Ellesmere Canal, named Pont-Cysylltau, is of even greater dimensions, and a far more striking object in the landscape. Sir Walter Scott spoke of it to Southey as "the most impressive work of art he had ever seen." It is situated about four miles to the north of Chirk, at the crossing of the Dee, in the romantic vale of Llangollen.
An Expedition Pont y Pandy The Sabbath Glendower's Mount Burial Place of Old Corwen The Deep Glen The Grandmother The Roadside Chapel. I WAS now about to leave Llangollen, for a short time, and to set out on an expedition to Bangor, Snowdon, and one or two places in Anglesea.
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