BEGGARS ON HORSEBACK. 



riding-tours generally, became intolerable, and we 

 were on the dangerous verge of admitting as much, 

 when our attention became concentrated on six 

 black objects advancing towards us in single file 

 along the barren perspective of road. They were 

 a walking party, evidently engaged in record- 

 breaking, and as with purple, streaming faces they 

 swung past us, we accepted the object-lesson, and 

 thanked heaven for the Tommies. 



Following on this was a mile of solitude and 

 sinuous advance through craggy places ; then, 

 suddenly, the Pass of Aberglaslyn, and the tour- 

 ist by companies — especially the clerical tourist. 

 There were four long black coats, and as many 

 soft black felt hats, on or about Aberglaslyn bridge, 

 each with a remarkable proportion of female 

 adherents, to whom, guide-book in hand, or with 

 the unaided gush of inspiration, they defined the 

 beauties of the Pass. We are naturally modest, 

 but we cannot refrain from mentioning that from 

 the moment we came in sight we usurped the 

 position of the beauties of the Pass. The ad- 

 herents of the clergy turned with ecstasy from the 



