The mountains are not very lofty, rising only to 1,650 feet, but the Eglwyseg rocks redeem them from being regarded as hills. Llangollen owes its name to a founder named Collen in the seventh century. He descended from Caradog Freichfras who drove the Irish out of Brecknock, and whose wife, the beautiful and virtuous Tegau Eurfron, has been made famous by the ballad of “The Boy and Mantle,” which is in Percy’s _Reliques_. A wonderful Life of Collen exists in Welsh that has not as yet been translated. It relates how that he went abroad and studied at Orleans, then he returned to Britain and settled at Glastonbury, where he was elected abbot. This post he soon resigned for another that was “heavier and harder,” which consisted principally in going about preaching. He again got tired of this, and returned to Glastonbury, where everything went on smoothly for five years, when he happened to quarrel with the monks, for he was a peppery Welshman; and cursing them, he left for Glastonbury Tor, and made for himself a cell under a rock, where he could grumble to himself unmolested. As he was in his cell one day, he heard two men talking about Gwyn ab Nudd, and saying that he was king of the under-world and of the fairies. Collen put his head out, and told them to hold their peace and not speak about these beings as if they were deities, for in fact they were only devils. “You had best not use any disrespectful words about Gwyn,” retorted they, “or he will serve you out for doing so.” Now at dead of night Collen heard some raps at the door of his habitation, and in answer to a call, “Who is there?” received the reply, “It is I. Gwyn ab Nudd, king of the nether world, has sent me, his messenger, to bid you meet him at the top of the hill.” “I won’t go,” retorted the saint. [Illustration: BERWYN] Again the messenger summoned him, and still Collen refused to be drawn. Then the messenger said, “If you don’t come, Collen, it will be the worse for you.” This disconcerted him; so, taking some holy water with him, he went. On reaching the top of the tor, Collen beheld the most beautiful castle that he had ever seen, manned by the best-appointed soldiery. A great many musicians, with all manner of instruments, made glorious music. About the hill were young men riding horses; at the palace gate handsome sprightly maidens--in fact, every element becoming the retinue and appointments of a great monarch. Collen, carrying his pot of holy water, was invited to enter; he obeyed, and was ushered into a banqueting hall where he saw the king seated in a chair of pure gold. Gwyn very graciously invited Collen to take a seat and refresh himself at the table, whereon were all kinds of dainties. Collen replied churlishly, “Bah! I don’t browse on leaves.” “Hast thou ever seen,” said the king, “men better dressed than these my servants in red and blue?” “The clothing--such as it is--is good enough.” “Such as it is!” repeated the king. “What do you mean?”