SEPTEMBEE. 393 



scattered amidst monstrous boulder-stones 

 that in ruinous confusion almost choak up the beds of 

 the streams. Scenes like these charming the wan- 

 derer at the time with unimagined poetry, become 

 transferred to the memory not only as pictures, but 

 as impressions of readings from nature awaking bliss- 

 ful ideas again and again. 



At the time above alluded to I sojourned for a week 

 at the little town of Bala, seated near the lake of the 

 same name. The lake itself dark, frowning, and ever 

 fretting its waters in ripples before the wind like an 

 unquiet spirit, has but little to attract the imagina- 

 tion; but the mountains that from a distance just 

 peer into its waters when a temporary calm soothes 

 its passion, are tempting to explore particularly the 

 twin peaks of the Arrenigs, and the solemn Arran Ben 

 Llyn. The latter I devoted a day to wandering upon, 

 , and hence one little plant the Awlwort, will ever rest 

 in my mind in companionship with the black rocks 

 of Arran. 



On this ramble, ascending from the eastern shore 

 of the Bala pool, I entered a rocky valley watered by 

 a brawling torrent, beyond which appeared minor 

 ridges connected with the mighty backbone of Arran 

 itself. This torrent, called the Twrch, or Burro wer, 

 falls into the Dee ere it enters the southern end of 

 Bala Lake. I continued along the road in view of it 

 still ascending till I came to a farm-house and hamlet, 

 called Rhydybont, where there is a " watersmeet," 

 from a boisterous stream joining the Twrch, by a 

 lateral valley that winds up into the very heart of the 

 mountain. Just beyond this place the rugged cliffs 

 of Arran appear with fine effect, deeply furrowed by 



