MOUNTAiyS. 115 



for the sake of the sunrise. But to the wayfarers 

 in the reigii of good Queen Anne and of the 

 early Georges, they were veritahle bugbears, huge 

 rearing masses of solid rock, almost impassable on 

 foot or horseback, and dreaded infinitely more by 

 passengers to Ireland via Holyhead than the most 

 dillicult and dangerous of the Alpine passes are 

 dreaded by the adventurous ladies of our own 

 time. Thousands of tourists now enjoy themselves 

 annually on the green slopes of Penmaenmawr, a 

 smiling hill dotted over with villas and pleasant 

 lodging-houses for the temporary reception of 

 the jaded townsman on his summer holiday. But 

 a hundred years ago Penmaenmawr was *'a vast, 

 gloomy rock," "a stupendous obstruction thrown 

 in the way of the adventurous traveller," "a truly 

 terrific and dangerous defile, which frights the 

 passer-by with its almost perpendicular front c)f 

 solid limestone." The little wayside in \s at the 

 two extremities of the much-dreaded road which 

 ran across the "terrific" hill from Conway to 

 Bangor bore two inscriptions well fitted to meet 

 the frame of mind of the trembling ladies and 

 gentlemen who here exchanged their roomy trav- 

 elling-carriages for hired saddle-horses. On the 

 one nearest Chester the signboard displayed the 

 not very encouraging couplet : — 



Before you venture hence to pass 

 Take a good refresUing glass; 



