The London Welshman

NORTH WALES ONCE MORE. BY PHILIP THOMAS. PART II. Here we are at length in the town of Dolgelly, a place which had been familiar to me by name since boyhood, when I had to pick it out on the map to oblige an exacting teacher. Quaintness is no adequate term for Dolgelly; it is the quintessence of quairtness in its construction. Some people have said that the houses were thrown down haphazard by a careless giant from the top of Cader Idris; but to me, standing in the middle of the town, -if it has any middle-that explanation was not enough. The arrangement of the houses did not suggest accidental higgledy-piggledy so much as cunning contrivance. It seemed to me more like an ingenious Chinese puzzle, with grotesque and complicated parts, but all forming portions of a set design. It reminded one of a maze, with its labyrinthine passages that seem to lead to nowhere, and to bring you up con- stantly at dead ends; but yet with method and centre in it when you find them out. In short, the turnings and twistings of Dolgelly streets and lanes, all coming right in the end, appeared to me symbolic of the subtle Merionethshire mind, which requires that one must get up early in the morning, if setting out to circumvent it. Altogether I liked the building of Dolgelly, and with the Wnion in full flood, the long bridge gave the town a distinctive character. But Dolgelly does not rely upon its tortuous ways for attraction. These lie round about. There is Cader, which we tried to scale, but got enve- loped in the mist and deluged by the rain. Its grandeur, however, was impressive; and the unique outline of the Saddle and Chair were not so remote and invisible as Snowdon from Llanberis. But Cader will remain, and perhaps will prove more obliging when we next try to make its acquaintance. It is well to leave some good things behind as an excuse for another visit. We did the Precipice Walk, of course. A certain bard, who need not here be named, was to have led the way, but he gracefully relinquished the lead in favour of his wife, who had good nerve. The bard gave more ex- pression to his feelings, as is perhaps proper to bards, but, others of us had a somewhat sickly feeling when we trod the narrow path with a wall of rock on one side and a sheer precipice of almost bottomless depth on the other. An old servant afterwards told me that he had seen a Lady Vaughan gallop round this path on a hunter. I do not say he was mistaken, but it is one of the things one could more easily believe on seeing than on simply hearing. However, we were all glad when the tight- rope business was over, and we could admire the lovely view which was infinitely more agreeable than the sensational passage. Looking to the left we could see the famous Estuary of the Mawddach with its broad waters, and, hard by, was the site of Cymmer Abbey. Those monks of old knew how to pick a place for their habitation; if a solitude, it is in the midst of delightful scenery, and on days when flesh is forbidden, there was always a beautiful river close at hand where the finest fish could be caught. Turning in the other direction was the Valley of Ganllwyd, and no more picturesque country need one ever wish to see, with ridge beyond ridge of mountain land of Alpine character, and a shining river, while to beauty of form was added the glory of colour. Next day we did the Torrent Walk. This piece of natural scenery has been so much bepraised that we were rather prepared for disappointment. Instead of this, we were enchanted beyond all expectation, both by the beauty and the extent of the Walk -an interminable series of falls, cataracts, and cascades, each with an individuality of its own, so that as we mounted from one to another, in what seemed endless succession, there was no monotony. Never was nature more lavish and resourceful. The rushing stream had moulded the rocks into an infinity of marvellous forms. Here is one dominating all the others at the particular spot, in the shape of a gigantic egg standing on its sharper end. The foliage was lovely in the extreme, and, after recent rain, the greenery was in perfection. One noticed a tree carrying not merely its leaves, but mossed on its branches, and out of the mossy covering grew delicate ferns, spreading of fronds of exquisite tracery. All this beautiful verdure overhung the stream as it leapt from one rocky ledge to another, and made a pool of seething foam. When at Dolgelly one remembered Hengwrf, until so recently the residence of that noblewoman Frances Power Cobbe. I could not leave without making a pious pilgrimage to the house, whete the caretaker pointed out to me her study and the bedrocm, which looked up the Ganllwyd Valley already mentioned. It is men and women after all who give force, reality, and zest to life. Fine scenery is only" a setting, or, perhaps, a relaxation and recreation, a delight to the eye, which may or not illuminate our intellect and exalt our moral nature. Our holidays ought never to be a mere self-indulgence. The scenery I have seen and attempted to describe is all in vain, unless the tour has cleared my brain, warmed my heart, and fanned my zeal for the duties of life. So it was fitting that I should offer homage at the home and the last resting-place near by, of a woman like Miss Cobbe, so brave and strenuous in her life, and devoted to the mental and moral elevation of her fellow creatures. It must never be forgotten, either, that while in the past fair Meirion has given to Wales all that is conveyed to the mind and heart by the sweet name of Bala, in our own time she has given us those two ardent and Practical Welsh Patriots, the late Torn Ellis, and one happily still living and labouring at Llanuwchllyn and Oxford for the advancement of Wales. I need not say that reference is made to Mr. O. M. Edwards. His Welsh literary publications, including the re- markable series of his Cyfres y Fil," are pro- bably unequalled for personal labour and financial risk and sacrifice by any other similar under- taking on the part of an individual person in any country of the world. In some recent articles in this paper I have referred to the need of a standard national dictionary of the Welsh language. I made an omission which ought now to be rectified. It was a neglect to refer to Mr. O. M. Edwards's recently issued Welsh- English dictionary, a small work and ridiculously cheap-only a few pence—yet wonderfully clear and perfect. This dictionary ought to be in every Welsh household, unless they already possess a better, if such exists. Energetic people may do a great patriotic service, not perhaps without making a little money for themselves by selling a copy of this little dictionary to every Welsh family, and to every young man and woman with a patriotic love of their mother- tongue. Then, if it were regularly studied, and always consulted for the right word and the true spelling, we should find the Welsh language pass on to a higher plane of purity and efficiency. Wales owes not a little to Merionethshire for having produced Mr. O. M. Edwards, and she is justified of her children. The visit to Hengwrt and hearing Machreth preach were the last things we did at Dolgelly; and early next morning, a start was made for the place where our holiday was to conclude. This was Aberystwyth, and it deserves more attention than can be given at the end of an article. Consequently, if in these quiet times, 'when burning questions are left to smoulder, because the men who poke the fires are mcre innocently engaged, the editor can afford t e space, I will, in a final article, refer to that par of our holiday; and close with some remar on Wales and the Welsh. (To be continued).

ffordd-mor naturiol, mor darawiadol, mor bert, fel nas gall y darlienydd gredu nad diareb ydyw-" Carai fwynder hen arferion," hynny o fodd a wnaf fi," A gurai'n llawn o gariad," Oni wn y can honno Waetha nghur ymaith o ngho'. Yn lie hun, rhoed i'r llinos Wylo'n hallt drwy gydol nos. "Ni feiddiai ond ufuddhau," "am rywun arall mae arni hiraeth," buddiol yw nas gwybyddi," heb wybod mwy na baban dyna ychydig engreifftiau o'r hyn a nodais. Tra gall ein beirdd gynghaneddu mor rhwydd ac esmwyth a hyn, ni wiw i neb guro ar gaethni ein mesurau. Dengys brawddegau o'r fath fod y gynghanedd wedi codi'n naturiol o anianawd y Gymraeg, ac fod y bardd all eu gweu nid yn unig yn deall ei greffr, ac wedi ei urddo yn ol braint a defawd," ond ei fod wedi ei eni yn un o feib Ceridwen. Ond er fod swn rhyfel" lawer yn stori Geraint ac Enid, eto "stori garu" ydyw, fel yr awgrymais, ac yn y rhanau carwriaethol mae Machreth ar ei oreu. Mae mwy nac adlais o Ddafydd ap Gwilym yn ei ddesgrifiad prydferth o Enid:- Ei gwallt dros war fel arian Fwriai i'w gwasg ei frig aur, Nes cudrlio'i dwy ysgwydd dan Fawreddog lif o ruddaur. Anhawdd, mi gredaf, cael o hyd i dlysach canig yng ngweithiau neb o'n beirdd diweddar na honno ganodd Geraint cyn cysgu y nos ar ol gweled Enid am y tro cyntaf erioed. Dyma'r penriill diweddaf o'r pedwar :— Enid gu yn d'wydd nid gwyn Yw'r ceinwyn eira cynar; Neu'r ewyn ter ar gerhynt aig Rhag gem o wraig mor hygar Glod yr oes bydd gwel'd dy wrid Yn ofid i Wenhwyfar. Mor dyner y darlunia'r bardd drallod Enid wrth weled Geraint yn ymollwng i fywyd moethus ac esmwyth. Ar ol i Geraint enill mawr glod, Wedyn ei hewyd hoew a wanhaodd Ei feiddiol ynni a ymfoddlonodd Moethau di raid ac esmwythder hudodd Y gwr amlwg, ac o olwg ciliodd Ei lyswyr esgeulusodd-abywyd Tawel seguryd di-les a garodd. Ond er fod Enid yn canfod ac yn gofidio oherwydd ei ddirywiad- I ddwedyd rhy brudd ydoedd Llwfrhau rhag llefaru 'roedd. Er nas gwnaf eu difynu, nid yw'r llinellau treiddgar—hunan-ymddiddan Enid wrth ganfod yng ngoleu'r wawr degwch a chryfder ei gwr, a chofio mor ddi-les ei fywyd, a'i chri- Gwae im' os o'm hachos i-y mae'r haint Orug i Eraint fyw heb ragori- yn ail i ddim yn yr Awdl. Wrth ddarllen ac ail-ddarllen yr Awdl, hawdd oedd genyf gredu nad oedd, fel y dywedodd Morris Jones, angen i'r beirniaid "bryderu na phetruso un foment ynghylch y ddedfryd." Nis gallwn, yn wir, lai na gofyn, "Ai yw'r Awdl dlos hon yn nodweddiadol o'r bardd newydd' ? A geir ei chystal bob blwyddyn yn yr Eistedd- fod? Os felly, gwyn fyd yr Eisteddfod, a gwyn fyd y wlad a'i pia. Ni ddaeth awr tranc y Gymraeg eto, ac ni ddaw tra megir rhwng ein bryniau fardd all ganu fel y canodd Machreth am Eraint ac Enid." CYFANSODDIADAU BUDDUGOL EISTEDDFOD RHYL (1904) yn awr yn barod, yn un gyfrol, 226 tud. Pris Swllt. Cynwys y gyfrol:—Awdl "Geraint ac Enid," Pryddest Tom Ellis," y Fugeilgerdd, Cywydd, Caneuon, a'r Englynion goreu, &c., &c. Dwy Ddrama Gymreig, The Banner of the Red Dragon a Rhys ap Tewdwr Mawr," ynghyd a'r holl feirniadaethau. I'w chael oddi- wrth Mr. E. Vincent Evans, Ysg. Cymdeithas yr Eis- teddfod, 64, Chancery Lane, Llundain.