( 289 ) 



ABER-MERLYN. 



BY CHARLES DIXON. 



" Eternal blessings crown my early friend, 

 And round his dwelling guardian saints attend I 

 Blest be that spot ! where cheerful guests retire 

 To pause from toil, and trim their evening fire ; 

 Blest that abode! where want and pain repair, 

 And every stranger finds a ready chair." Goldsmith. 



IT was in a fine morning in the month of last June, that in company 

 with a friend I started in a coach from London. We had determined 

 on a pedestrian tour, and had marked out in our route some of the 

 principal scenery in South Wales. 



Our journey to Bristol was dull and monotonous, and only varied 

 by one circumstance certainly rather ludicrous. When we stopped 

 at Devizes to change horses, a fellow-traveller called for a glass of 

 brandy and water, and paid the waiter at the time. Four minutes 

 out of the five had already elapsed, before he made his appearance 

 with it; and'then it was so hot that even Erebus itself was cool in 

 comparison. "Doubtless the waiter thought he should have it himself; 

 but for once he was outwitted. "All right," sung out the ostler, 

 "Now, gentlemen," said the coachman crack went the whip and off 

 they started. The waiter in vain asked for the glass; my companion 

 coolly gave him the spoon, and told him if he wanted the glass, he 

 must come after it, for he certainly should not give it up until he 

 had finished. 



We had rather a rough passage to Swansea by the steamer, in- 

 deed so much so that the greater portion on board were " uncom- 

 fortably affected." I would have defied the greatest stoic that ever 

 existed to have refrained from laughing at the miserable and 

 grotesque contortions of the sufferers. It was worthy the pencil 

 of Hogarth himself, and could only be faintly imitated by Cruik- 

 shank or the lamented Seymour. The view of the town as we ap- 

 proached it from the Mumbles is very picturesque the houses are 

 all white and form a splendid contrast to the blue mountains that 

 rear above their lofty heads; and when the rays of the setting sun 

 glanced upon the summits and were reflected back from the town, 

 it presented a scene of richness and beauty. The harbour is exceed- 

 ingly fine, and is the miniature of the bay of Naples. Our quarters 

 at the inn were very comfortable, and at an early hour the next 

 morning we left our pretty hostess, and, mounting our packs, bended 

 on our weary way towards Caermarthen. We had letters of intro- 

 duction to a family residing in that part of the country, and we 

 thought we might as well deliver them at the commencement of 

 our tour, as perhaps we might be guided to some more delightful 

 scenery. 



The sky was rather clouded and the sunbeans shone but scantly, 

 yet we hoped it would clear up before mid-day and, reader, if you 



MARCH, 1837. U 



