Possibly we expected another Snowdonia, and so deserved to be disappointed. Nature does not repeat herself, and though the heights of Plinlimmon are commanding when attained, we do not recommend the traveller whose time is precious to traverse the intolerably circuitous path, amid bogs and morasses, which leads him wearily at last to the summit. The fresh breeze, and the wide prospect from the mountain's top are, to some extent, a compensation for the toil; while it is interesting to explore the sources of some of the many rivers which descend from the mighty store of waters embosomed in this hill--the Severn and the Wye being chief. But the longing for the beautiful was unsatisfied until we reached Pont-y-Mynach, the Monk's P>ridge; better known, perhaps, as "the Devil's Bridge." The former name denotes the fact that the monks of Strata Florida Abbey constructed the bridge: the latter, we suppose, expresses the simple wonder of the rustics, who could not conceive the daring work as wrought by any power less than supernatural. Why should they have taken for granted that the power was evil? We presume that the explanation is to be found in the sense of terror excited by the fury and the roar of the torrent. There is an awe akin to joy: a solemn yet glad uplifting of the soul, as at the sight of the starry heavens; and who could attribute the splendours of the firmament to any but a beneficent Creator? But amid the wilder scenes of this earth, there is not only the mere feeling of danger, but a dread which oppresses the spirit--a "fear that hath torment,"--an instinctive sense of sin, which has led men in such localities to imagine a _malignant_ spirit at work.
A little way beyond the bridge are the falls of the Rheidol--a series of cascades, perhaps the most picturesque in Wales, not from the mass of water so much as from the magnificence of the narrow, rocky ravine, with its wealth of foliage. Perhaps the charms of this fair glen, with the comforts of the splendidly-placed hotel above, were heightened by the recollection of the long morning among the morasses of Plinlimmon; but our feeling as we sat at eventide watching the sunset, and listening to the roar of waters, was to surrender all the rest of our brief excursion, and to give ourselves there to the _dolce far niente_ of three long summer days!