The “rich-hair’d youth of morn” had not long left its saffron bed, and the very air was balmy as it freshened into morn, when we hurried from our Inn to enjoy the luxuries of the Vale of Festiniog, so well celebrated by the pen of Lord Littleton. “With the woman one loves, with the friend of one’s heart, (says his Lordship) and a good study of books, one may pass an age there, and think it a day. If one has a mind to live long, and renew his youth, let him come and settle at Festiniog.” These are the sentiments of Lord Littleton, in which seemed to be verified the situation of Mr. Oakley, who has selected this spot for his residence. Tan-y-bwlch Hall, (for by that name is Mr. Oakley’s Seat dignified) is environed by a thick wood, which climbs the steep mountains behind his mansion. We followed the meandering and translucent waters of the river Dryryd, till we arrived at the Village of Maentwrog, situated about the middle of this Paradise. Passing through the village, we observed a small but neat cottage, which was rendered interesting to the way-farer by its neat simplicity. Perceiving a stand of fruit at the door, we were enticed to enter the cottage, where we found the interior of the house as comfortable, as the situation was interesting. A large old-fashioned chimney corner, with benches to receive a social party, formed a most enviable retreat from the rude storms of winter, and defied alike the weather and the world:—with what pleasure did I picture, “A smiling circle, emulous to please,” gathering round a blazing pile of wood on the hearth, free from all the vicissitudes and cares of the world, happy in their own home, blessed in the sweet affections of kindred amity, regardless of the winter blast that struggled against the window, and the snow that pelted against the roof. On our entering, the wife who possessed “the home of happiness, an honest breast,” invited us “to take a seat” under the window, which overlooking the village, and the dark tower of the church, offered the delights of other seasons. The sweets of a little garden, joined its fragrance to the honeysuckle, which enwreathed with rich drapery the windows; and here too lay the old family Bible, which had been put aside on our first entrance; we regretted, not having an opportunity of seeing the husband, whom, I make no doubt “Envied not, and never thought of kings, Nor from those appetites sustain’d annoy, That chance may frustrate, or indulgence cloy; Each season look’d delightful as it past, To the fond husband, and the faithful wife.”