Melangell and the lovely country of hill and stream, and glittering waterfalls, thickly wooded little valleys, and bare upstanding mountains, that stretches all about it, is best reached from Llandrillo Station on the picturesque line that runs from Corwen to Bala by the valley of the Dee. This is a fine sporting country, where the red grouse flourishes and where the streams and lakes hold trout in abundance. “The Welsh Highlands” it is aptly called. The Berwyn Mountains, that here divide Merioneth and Montgomeryshire, rise to over 2,000 feet in Moel Ferna near Corwen, from which station there is a motor car service in summer to Bettws-y-Coed, a place, perhaps, more famed than any in Wales for the beauty of its surroundings. [Illustration: _Lake Vyrnwy._] [Illustration: an old man pointing out a pile of gold to a younger man, while others sleep on the floor.] WHERE KING ARTHUR SLEEPS. The old stories tell that King Arthur and his gallant knights are not dead; they are only sleeping and will awake with renewed vigour, should ever they be needed to fight the enemies of their beloved land. And their resting place is within the great upstanding limestone rock of Craig-y-Ddinas in South Wales. There is a tale told of a Welshman from Llantrisant who was accosted on London Bridge, of all places, by a strange little man with a grey beard, who asked where he had cut the hazel staff he carried. The Welshman replied: “In my own country not far from my home.” “Where that staff was cut,” the grey beard said, “is gold beyond counting and I can show you how to get it.” So the Welshman invited his queer acquaintance to accompany him to his home, and shortly afterwards the two set out for Craig-y-Ddinas, which is a few miles away in the Vale of Neath. They came to an entrance of a cave close by where the hazel staff had been cut, and the stranger bade the Welshman enter. Within the entrance was a silver bell hanging from the roof, beyond which a passage led to a great cavernous hall where, around a massive oak table, were a number of warriors, fast asleep, but still clad in their armour and with their weapons by their sides. One of these ancient warriors, with a long silver beard, wore a crown upon his head. This was the great King Arthur himself, the stranger said. But what most attracted the eye of the Welshman was a mighty stack of gold piled high in the centre of the table, upon which the light from the flickering flames of a fire in one corner of the underground chamber glinted pleasantly. “Now help yourself,” said the stranger, “but in carrying out your gold, do not ring the bell or you will awaken the knights. If you should chance to ring it be ready to answer immediately for they will ask: ‘Is it day?’ and you must reply: ‘Sleep on, it is still night.’ Then all may be well.” With this the mysterious stranger disappeared.