292 Aber-Merlyn. 



One day, after we had returned from a long ramble, the captain 

 informed us he had something in store that he thought would be gra- 

 tifying. A marquee had been erected on the brow of Merlyn's Hill, 

 and there we all proceeded. To our surprise we found it furnished 

 with chairs and sundry decanters and glasses. There we were to spend 

 the night, and see the sunrise. The evening was as lovely as the view. 

 At our feet lay the vale of Towey, through which the silent river 

 meandered in its course ; above towered the lofty mountains, whose 

 distant heights were tipped with the rays of the setting sun, while 

 their shadowy sides formed a beautiful relief. Above rose the Black 

 Mountains and the Grongar Hills, and seemed, like fabled Atlas, to 

 bear the heavens upon their summits. The sun's last lingering beam 

 was resting on Carreg Cennen, and Golden Grove and Nelson's 

 Tower stood out a monument of greatness, 



" While the fair clouds of feathery gold, 

 Shaded with deepest purple, gleamed 

 Like islands on a dark blue sea." 



Oh ! it was a scene for the painter and the poet one that he 

 would love to dwell upon and revel in with delight and though I 

 myself am neither, yet could I have gazed upon it for ever, and each 

 moment have discovered fresh beauty to admire. It may be that in 

 the azure garment and vapoury mantle in which distance wraps all 

 nature the wandering mind foresees hours happier than the past, 

 and, soaring on Fancy's wing, rejoices to enter on new ways of life; 

 or, perhaps, a tender chord is awakened, and vibrates at the touch. 

 I felt myself carried back to days of infancy, and roved with child- 

 hood's light and buoyant step once again over my native hills; and 

 although many many years have glided by, and time has touched me 

 with his silvery hand, and though the roses of spring are faded and 

 the merry song of youthfulness is silent, yet over these does memory 

 linger and draw from the remembrance a fragrance redolent of the 

 gathered flower. 



As night crept on the mists rose thick and heavy from the valley. 

 By degrees dark and massy clouds formed in powerful array, and 

 spread themselves beneath us like a carpet, while we ourselves were 

 only enveloped in a thin hazy fog. Soon after the rain fell in con- 

 tinued torrents, and the wind whistled with tremendous blast among 

 the trees, and sounded like the breathing of the spirit of the tempest 

 as he passed upon its wings. The lightnings flashed with forked 

 windings amid the blackened clouds, and shone with awful splendour 

 amid the gloom that gathered round, while the thunders roared in 

 swift and deafening peals, making the whole range of mountains ring 

 with ten thousand echoes, and mutter as it rolled along its deep dia- 

 pason. I have seen many a storm, but never have witnessed one so 

 grand, so majestic as was this. It is no matter of wonder that, super- 

 stitious as the Welsh are, they should have assigned this as the dwell- 

 ing-place of their prophet, and have invested it with terrors of no com- 

 mon order. A little after midnight the moon rose with unclouded 

 grandeur, like a maiden laughing from beneath her tears, while the 

 countless stars studded the blue vault of heaven like gems of orient 



