420 
For the Monthly Magazine. 
Memoranpa of'a SumMER Toor through 
Nonatu Wates in 1823. 
[The published “ Tours in Walés” are so 
little calculated to afford the traveller 
the information he requires, that they 
are only amusing as works of reference 
after the journey, and are frequently so 
inaccurate, as to mislead rather than guide 
the reader. The design of the present 
communication is to point out a favyour- 
able route through the principality, as 
well as to direct attention to the 
Most interesting objects on the way. 
Being written by a native, who is well 
acquainted with the country, the accu- 
racy of the details may be relied upon, 
although they may differ from those of 
other tourists. The description of the 
national customs and pastimes (to be 
found in no other English work) are the 
sketches of one who was, in his youth, a 
frequent participator in them. ] 
ARLY in the summer of 1823, 
my friend W.and myself set out on 
a visit to our friends and kindred in 
North Wales. We had arranged for an 
absence of two or three months; and it 
was decided that we should first go into 
Caernarvonshire, of which my compa- 
nion is a native. and then cross the 
mountains into Merionethshire, where 
my own relations reside. By these 
means, we should traverse the most in- 
teresting portion of the principality, 
and occupy the time of our furlough 
to the best advantage. 
We had looked forward, for some 
time, with great delight, to this excur- 
sion, for we had both been absent from 
our native hills for some years; and 
the anticipation of mingling once more 
with our oldest and best friends, was a 
source of no ordinary pleasure. The 
condition of a person bred up amidst 
the recesses of a secluded country, is 
very different from that of an inhabitant 
of a large and populous town. The 
latter is often ignorant of his next-door 
neighbour, except by the name on the 
brass-plate of the door. In Wales, it is 
widely different. The little commu- 
nity of my own native town, for exam- 
ple, is as one large family, the mem- 
bers of which are knit together by 
reciprocal ties. They participate in 
each other’s happiness, and sympathize 
in each other’s grief—a marriage is a 
source of joy to all, and a death, of 
general sorrow. 
It was on Monday, the 9th of June, 
then, that we left London on board the 
Memoranda of a Summer Tour through North Wales. 
[June I, 
Prince of Wales, from the George and 
Blue Boar, Holborn, at three o’clock 
in the afternoon. We were so fortu- 
nate as to have’fine weather ; and some 
rain had fallen in the morning to lay 
the dust. To add to our comfort, our 
fellow-travellers were sociable and good- 
humoured. A young Irish lady, pretty, 
lively and somewhat satirical, and her 
father, a very merry, jovial, well-in- 
formed hearty old gentleman, whose 
national wit flowed from him in as rich 
a brogue as I ever heard. With such 
companions, we went smoothly and 
merrily along, without accident. or ob- 
stacle; and, for my part, I enjoy a 
stage-coach ; the post-chaise, indeed, 
as Leigh Hunt has somewhere observed, 
is “ home in motion.” Perhaps so, 
when you have a wife, and a stowage of 
children with you! but what with the 
trouble of fresh horses, luggage, post- 
boys, turnpikes, &c., it is, in my estima- 
tion, something like a house with a 
smoky chimney —more trouble than 
comfort. A stage-coach (besides the 
saving of trouble and expense) by the 
promiscuous association it presents, 
puts the animal spirits more into play, 
and relieves the monotony of ordinary 
intercourse. It reminds me of what 
Paley has termed “ the equality of the 
human species.” It suspends dis- 
tinctions, and brings otherwise distinct 
classes together, on a footing of com- 
mon rights and privileges. 
We reached Slough between six and 
seven o’clock, and enjoyed a magnificent 
view of Windsor Castle. The setting 
sun was shining in all its glory upon its 
ancient turrets; the royal banner of 
Britain floated gracefully from the east- 
ern tower; the deep woods which sur- 
round it, were reposing in all the gloom 
and grandeur of luxuriance; and a 
thousand chivalrous associations — a 
thousand recollections of the deeds of 
by-gone times, arose in my mind, as I 
gazed, in speechless admiration, at the 
only palace, properly so called, which 
is worthy of this great and powerful 
kingdom. But our vehiele rolled on— 
the castle and the woods progressively 
vanished in distance and increasing 
gloom. ; 
We reached Oxford about two in the 
morning. Nothing could surpass the 
extreme beauty of the scene, as the 
pale moon-beams rested on the vene- 
rable walls, spires and turrets of the 
churches and colleges in that most 
magnificent of all streets, the High- 
street : 
“ How 
