The entrance into this excavated work was no less singular that the petite cave itself. It was through a narrow aperture, formed of two immense slate rocks that faced each other, and the space between them narrower at the bottom than the top, so that the passage could be entered only sideways, with the figure inclined forward, according to the slant of the rocks: a thin person being barely able to make his way in, while a man of some rotundity might also succeed, by rising on his toes, and forcing himself upwards. Between these rocks of entrance, a massive stone block was wedged at the top, so that it formed a rude and faint resemblance of an arch. After _sidling_ so far through a comparatively long passage, it was no small surprise to find that it led to so small a cave; scarcely large enough to shelter three persons huddled close together, from a shower of rain. What it wanted in breadth, in possessed however in height, as it ran up like a chimney, to the altitude of forty five feet, and was open at the top to the very summit of the mount, forming a skylight to the _room_ below. Although the little cave was deficient of a solid roof, a very rural one was formed by the large tufts of heather, and fern, which sprung through the crevices of the rocks; the whole being surmounted by the pendant branch of a dwarf oak, that with many other trees stood like a crown on the elevated head of Dinas. However singular the interior of this cave might appear to our hero, he found a superior pleasure in examining the grand combinations that graced its exterior. There he saw, with never satiated delight and wonder, objects of the most romantic character, curiously united here near the junction of three counties. The rocky Dinas, with its many inaccessible sides, besides the loose crags before mentioned, was partially covered with aged dwarfish trees, all bending in the same direction; many with their heads broken by tempests, but still throwing out fantastic-looking branches, while others, stark, sere, and shrouded in grey moss, were things that seasons knew not. The opposite mountain, called Maesmaddegan, facing the entrance of the cave, was more gaily bedecked with underwood, birch, oak, and the mountain ash; while the junction of the rivers Towey and Dorthea, {214} enlivened the gloom caused by the deep gulfs which separated Dinas from the parent mountain.