84 BEGGARS ON HORSEBACK. 



contemplation of nature to feast their eyes upon 

 us, our sun-burned straw hats, our equally sun- 

 burned noses, and our bulging wallets. 



We are disposed to deal leniently with an un- 

 successful rival, and inured though Aberglaslyn 

 must now be to picturesque description, we will 

 spare it further adjectives. There was a poor 

 woman once in the county of Cork who was 

 shown a dazzling array of wedding - presents. 

 Speech first failed her, and then she said : " Mother 

 of God ! it's like a circus." Thus, and with such 

 a humble reverence, do we say of Aberglaslyn 

 Pass, that it is like a circus. 



There is something at once gallant and touching 

 about the way in which the English tourist places 

 his hand in that of convention, and is led by her, 

 uncomplaining, through very arid places. This 

 elderly generalisation does not, by so much as a 

 backward glance, include Aberglaslyn, with its 

 cliffs and fir-trees, and mountain-sides flushed with 

 blossoming heather; it is for the moment con- 

 centrated upon the grave of Gelert, its railings and 



