We determined to pursue the Banks of the meandering Rhyddol, in preference to the turnpike road, in our way to Havod. This valley comprehends every thing that constitutes the beautiful; it is enclosed by high mountains on each side, vegetating to their summits; indeed, all the tints of verdure, and diversity of foliage, here introduce themselves in one view; the Rhyddol struggling with the huge masses of rock,—its never-ceasing, tumultuous motion,—its sparkling foam;—in fine, every thing that can be imagined, by the most enthusiastic admirer of nature is blended in this short excursion:— —“_is not this vale_ More free from peril than the envious courts? Here feel we but the penalty of Adam, The season’s difference, as the icy fang And churlish chiding of the Winter’s wind.” SHAKSPEARE. To the inquisitive pedestrian, for this vale is inaccessible for carriages, the old Church of Llanbadern Vawr, which signifies _The Church of Great Paternus_, a native of Bretagne, is particularly interesting; who, as the writer of his Life expresses it, “by feeding governed, and by governing fed the Church of Ceretica.” To his memory this Church, and formerly an Episcopal See was founded: but the Bishopric, as Roger Hovedan writes, “early declined, because the parishioners slew their pastor.” {66} As we drew near the DEVIL’s BRIDGE, a long chain of mountains excited our admiration, encircled half way down with a thick mist, similar in appearance to a girdle: this circumstance seems to justify the bold imagery, and beautiful description of a mountain given by the Poet: “As some tall cliff that lifts its awful form Swells from the vale, and midway leaves the storm; Though round its breast the rolling clouds are spread, Eternal sunshine settles on its head.”—GOLDSMITH. The comfortable Inn, situated near this romantic spot, stands in front of the river Rhyddol, and commanding the most picturesque view fancy can paint, is built by the respectable and truly hospitable owner of Havod.