I was not altogether fortunate in my holiday, for the weather was alternating, continually, between shower and sunshine, and when I was fairly on the top of a stage-coach, for Llanberis, I found, to my sorrow, that shower was about to predominate for a time. However, to Llanberis I went, reserving a close inspection of the castle to my return. At intervals, I could get some idea of the loveliness of that charming lake, and of the wild glories of its surrounding scenery; but ill-luck prevailed, and Snowdon wore his cap of clouds, nearly all the time, and I was forced to retire at last, somewhat surly with disappointment. I visited, however, the ruins of Dolbardan Castle, the central fortress of a chain of similar muniments, by which the ancient clans of Wales endeavoured to secure these mountain passes against the invaders. It stands, in picturesque dignity, upon the peninsula, which divides the waters of Llanberis into twin lakes, and is apparently the guardian of both. Here some Welsh lads, with a donkey, were sheltering themselves from the rain, and, by dint of much entreaty, and a very tempting appliance of money, I gained from them a Welsh song, which growing somewhat animated as they proceeded, cheered up the sombre scene, and gave to those antiquated ruins a moment’s restoration of the echoes of minstrelsy, and of the musical tongue with which they resounded of yore, in peace and war, when the figures of bards and heroes were the familiar tenants of the spot. As I returned to Caernarvon, the rain began to abate, and gradually the clouds withdrew, to my great satisfaction. The castle again rose before me, reviving the impressions with which I had first beheld it, but less stern, perhaps, from the land side, than when beheld from the sea. I was soon beneath its walls, which I first surveyed, in circuit, with increased astonishment and pleasure. The materials for this vast structure are said to have been furnished, in part, by the ruins of Segontium, the neighbouring station of the ancient Roman army; but the feudal character now impressed on the old stones is, to me, far more interesting than their primitive history. The eagle-tower, in which the young Prince is said to have been born, is itself a fortress of massive solidity, and presents to the waters a front of bold defiance; while on the other side, now blocked up and forlorn of aspect, beneath a lofty arch, is the gate, by which the expectant mother entered the gloomy hold, and which still goes by her name. The remains of a moat and drawbridge are visible, and so are the grooves in which the iron-toothed portcullis once rose and fell. I entered by a gate which looks toward the town, and over which is sculptured a rude effigy of the royal builder, deeply scarred by time. Within, the huge walls appear as an empty shell; they rise, like those of the great Roman amphitheatre, around an area of desolation. Here and there, indeed, are the remains of state apartments,