LETTER IX.

DEAR SIR,

Bangor.

THE distance from Caernarvon to Bangor is nine miles, of as delightful road as the fancy could possibly imagine. The views, whichever way the eye ranges, are diversified and picturesque; to the right the alpine scenery we had just left arose in sterner grandeur, flanked by the lesser elevations, with the varied Cwms, that separate the chain into so many distinct mountains, terminating in wooded vales, behind which the aspiring summits recede in the back ground from the view. On the left the Anglesea shore, with its numerous inclosures and rich plantations, intermingled with the seats of Plas Coch, Plas Newydd, and Plas Llanidan; and the Menai, opening with all the grandeur of an American river, till hid by the thick woods of Vaenol; where is the house of Mr. Smith, an eminent mansion of that name. Nothing can exceed the beauty of the Menai, covered with small craft, and winding to the North-east; as it appears in the different vistas of the woods which cover its margin. Its waters have greatly the advantage of a river; those are frequently muddy at the return of tide, while these always retain their transparency, and that green hue and

sparkling brilliancy which are the distinguishing beauties of Sea-Water.

As we descend the hill of Vaenol, the sylvan scenery opens and exhibits the neat little City of

BANGOR.

So called from Bon chor, (i. e. good Choir.) It lies in a narrow valley, between two low ridges of slate rock, open toward Snowdon on the South, and about half a mile below the town to the North, expanding into the beautiful bay of Beaumaris; the low towers of whose Castle are visible from the beach, the noble mansion of Lord Bulkley, at BaronHill, rising majestically behind. At a distance, Puffin's Island, and the high promontory of Orme's Head, are seen to guard the entrance of the harbour; the vast Penmaen mawr, and a line of villages with cultivated fields, abounding in wheat and barley, lie stretched along the shore. This place, at present so small, was once so considerable as to be called Bangor vawr, or the Great.* It was defended by a powerful castle, built by Lupus, Earl of Chester; the scite of which is still visible on a precipitous hill, about half a mile to the eastward of the City, and the form may now easily be traced by the re

These are evident traces that this was once a city of considerable extent. It probably covered the whole of the rising ground now lying between the present town and the Menai. In ploughing, ruins of buildings are frequently discovered.

maining foundations. This is all we could learn of its history.

The present Bangor however arose from one still greater and more ancient, Bangor Iscoed, in Flintshire. Among other books we consulted for guidance in our route, was A Walk through Wales. We entered Bangor with an enthusiastic ardour, to see the divine river with the elegant bridge; and, more especially, the ruins of its far-famed monastery, where a hundred fresh Monks celebrated the praise of GOD every hour, day and night, (Vid. Gildas,) in conjunction with those of Glastonbury and Salisbury. Conceive the surprise of the party, when, on a survey of the place, we could not find sufficient water to be termed a trickling rill. In some instances we found our author accurate, and were much pleased with the brilliancy of his descriptions; but we were at a most perfect loss how this majestic river could have been here in 1797 and not in 1798! Examining our maps, it appeared, that no such river had been known to run here for more than two centuries; nor any bridge been heard of, save one projected a few years ago by the Irish travelling this way, to be built over the Menai; but the scheme, being opposed by the people of Caernarvon, was quickly relinquished.

A geographical friend suggested, that the author might have meant Bangor in Flintshire, a small village situate in Maeler, on the Banks of the Dee,

* It was occupied as an intrenched camp by the Danes, and after, wards by the Oliverian forces, in their route towards Caernarvon,

through which the river famed in song is known to flow, and over which a handsome stone bridge of five arches forms a communication between the counties of Flint and Denbigh. This suggestion led to an inquiry how the learned antiquarian of Bath could have committed such a palpable blunder. One of our party, more shrewd than liberal, did not hesitate to pay the author the same compliment which Johnstone paid the traveller to the source of the Nile; "Sir," says he, "the pedestrian Tourist has never been West of the Severn;" but, finding he was acquainted with the intelligent landlord of the Three Eagles, I was still at a loss to conjecture the cause of so evident a misnomer in topographical description. Taking up Dr. Darwin's Zoonomia, the mysterious business was unravelled. In Chap. XIX. on Reverie, the ingenious author observes, "When we are employed with great sensation of pleasure, or with great efforts of volition, in the pursuit of some interesting train of ideas, we cease to be conscious of our existence, are inattentive to time and place, and do not distinguish this train of sensitive and voluntary ideas from the irritative ones excited by the presence of external objects; though our organs of sense are surrounded with their accustomed stimuli; till at length this interesting train of ideas becomes exhausted, or the appulses of external objects are applied with unusual violence, and we return with surprize or regret into the common track of life."

It immediately occurred, that this might have been

the case with the author in question. Having the History of the Massacre of the Monks strong in his recollection, and his mind wafted back to the period when cruelty and devotion were the grand characteristics of the age, he might have been at the Three Eagles, refreshed himself at Hutchins's, and left Bangor before he was able to attend to the objects around him. And let him, who is inclined to smile at the doctrine, recollect, if he has never been guilty of the like from the force of prior impressions, and in instances more important to happiness; for oft

"Our waking dreams prove fatal.”

In

The British churches, as they had received the doctrines of the Gospel from apostolic hands, so for centuries they were jealous of preserving them pure, and transmitting them untainted to their posterity: and till the sixth century, they in a great measure retained their primitive integrity. But at length, St. Austin, with the innovations of Rome, arrived in the island, and endeavoured, by intreaty and force, to unite the British churches with the see of Rome. some degree he prevailed, but the errors of that church were not so fully received by the Clergy of North Wales as those of England, as appears by their uniformly rejecting the unscriptural injunction of celibacy to the priesthood; the Clergy being married through the whole period, and readily and unamously embracing the primitive principles of their churches, when the Reformation restored them the