A BOTANICAL TOUR THROUGH SOUTH WALES, &C. 
299 
the palm to the Sgwd-yr-Hen-Rhyd, near Capel Colbren, about five miles over 
the mountains in a northerly direction. It can scarcely be found without a 
guide, the route lying over boggy moors and stony ravines, without a single 
habitation occurring near at hand the whole distance, except at Pont Henrhyd, 
just above the fall, where in the early morning I enjoyed, after a fatiguing walk, 
a delicious breakfast of Welsh bread and butter and milk, and a rest from 
the hot sunbeams. Pont Henrhyd is a romantic, two-arched ivy-girt bridge, 
beneath which the little river Llech pours its stream at first so quietly, that no 
one would imagine that fifty yards beyond it was likely to fling itself in thunder, 
foam, and spray, down a precipice ninety feet in height, into the dark 
excavation below. This, however, is the case. It first begins to murmur 
among the stones—then chafes and frets into its rocky channel—slides impetu¬ 
ously down an interposing ledge of black rock that comes athwart its course— 
foams and rushes on in anger—and then, collecting its waters together with 
sullen and still determination, leaps at one sudden bound into the deep gulf 
below. But its future course is not lost in shade; the glen into which it has 
fallen is seen opening some distance beyond, and the shaggy wood, robing the 
cliffs on the right, is relieved by a sparkling prospect of dales and hills, in noble 
perspective, down the vale of Tawe, into which the Llech runs, almost if not 
quite to the faint blue ocean. The fall may be descended to by a rough way 
down the cliff, by making a circuit to the right, and here it appeared in real 
grandeur. The perpendicular rock on either side of the descending water, 
horrid with wood and impending trees that seem tottering to their fall, the dark 
aspect of the precipice, shaggy with waving Mosses and Confervce^ and its 
superior height disturbing the rush with no impending crag, the flickering Iris 
on the water, and the seclusion of the glen, that yet partially reveals the 
on-flowing stream still bounding amidst huge blocks of stone, and hoarsely 
murmuring in the pauses of the louder dash of the cataract, conspire to leave a 
forcible impression upon the mind, and to cause the wanderer to leave the spot 
that has given rise to so many pleasing images very reluctantly. I the rather 
commend this water-fall to the botanist, as the way to it lies by an extensive 
and remarkable bog, called Gorselyn, where many interesting plants are located. 
To save trouble and prevent digression, I have reserved my list of the Plants 
I gathered in Glyn Neath for this place. Any botanist travelling there—and 
the place is now much visited—can easily slip this number of The Naturalist 
into his pocket, and identify the habitats I have given; and if he can increase 
the list with any thing more uncommon, no one will be more pleased than 
myself. It is surely a locality worth searching, and pleasure and delight 
must ensue. 
