158 



called by the Welsh " Blue stocking," why, I have not been able to dis- 

 covei'. Old " Blue stocking," however, made a gallant defence, and 

 held out against that famous parliamentary general, Mytton, from 

 July to November, and then only surrendered on most honourable 

 terms. Cromwjell had a great horror of castles, and this soon followed 

 the fate of most others, and was dismantled, and gradually became the 

 noble ruin it now appears. There is a singular feature in the con- 

 struction of parts of this castle. Both the outer and inner entrance 

 are flanked with towers, the facing of which are red sandstone, backed 

 up with a conglomerate mi.xture of lime, pebbles, and sandstone. The 

 arches are all faced with the same material, and likewise many of the 

 jambs and sills of the openings ; one would have expected limestone — 

 here so abundant, and the harder material — would have been selected 

 for the purpose. 



Standing on this lofty eminence, it becomes difficult to reconcile 

 one's mind to the belief that it once formed the bed of a deep green sea 

 swarming with life ; yet all that tread the globe are but a handful to 

 the tribes that now slumber in its bosom. In its recesses dwelt the 

 producta, terrepratula, and spirifer ; the corals plied their alloted tasks 

 to form those platforms now trod by living men. You cannot strike 

 the rock on which you stand without disinteiing their remains fi'om 

 sepulchres where they have been entombed for ages incalculable. Out 

 of every block, x'elics^of past periods stand in bold relief; the Umestone. 

 their matrix, worn away by long exposure. These ruined walls repre- 

 sent a necropolis of bygone ages. The architect and builder are past 

 away and forgotten, but the forms of a state of things, thousand upon 

 thousand of years anterior to the creation of man, surround you, some- 

 times appearing as fresh and uninjured as though entombed but 



yesterday. 



And dance and song within these walls have sounded, 



And breathing music roll'd in dulcet strains ; 

 And'lovely feet have o'er these grey stones bounded, 

 In snowy kittles and embroidered trains. 

 Such things have been. 



Man taxes science to her utmost to preserve the merest outline of 

 his feUow-creature for a few hundred years : here we find nature by 

 her own direct and unassisted agency preserving her relics tlu'ough 

 untold ages. This castle, with its ruined walls, presents a melancholy 

 yet instructive lesson to him who will take the ti'ouble to read its fossil 

 inscriptions. 



The truncated mound on which the castle and town of Denbigh 

 stand forms the teiininal point of a long ridge of the limestone, ex- 

 tending from near Abergele. At the foot of the escarpment on the 



