By a retrograde saunter we soon gained the Tan-y-bwlch road; and, passing over the romantic bridge of Pont ar Garfa, beautifully entwined with the rich drapery of ivy, we ascended a steep path over the slaty mountain of Tylyn Gwladys, two miles in extent.—Sublimity, indeed, gave place to elegance: behind us, the huge steep of Cader Idris, lifting high above the rolling cloud its shaggy head, of which, at intervals, we caught a glance through the thick mist which enveloped it; in front, Snowdon, conscious of pre-eminence, rose in the distant perspective: these were the boundaries of our view. On the opposite side a barren mountain, dignified by the name of Prince of Wales, appeared scarcely accessible, but to the steps of the enthusiast. This formerly afforded a vast quantity of ore, but it has lately so much failed, as not to produce even a sufficiency to remunerate the miners. While traversing these barren mountains, it is not less singular than interesting occasionally to meet the most delicious valleys, watered by some foaming river; these are often literally surcharged “With weighted rains, and melted Alpine snows.” Such is the true characteristic of the Welsh scenery: the finest verdure and the most enchanting valleys are discovered in the bosom of sterility; where natural cascades, precipitating themselves from their rude pinnacles, alone disturb the silence which reigns in that asylum. These render it more enchanting to the inquisitive pedestrians, for these landscapes are only accessible to their steps: and the distant swell of the cataract had now long proclaimed our proximity to the object in pursuit. The Falls of the Cayne and the Moddach are at no great distance from one another, being only separated by a thick wood. Crossing a small bridge, above fifty feet from the water, formed only by the trunk of an oak, which has accidentally fallen across the rapid torrent, our conductress very judiciously selected the latter as the first object of our admiration. The computed measurement of this fall is estimated at between seventy and eighty feet, dividing itself into three distinct parts, each finely broken by the projected rocks. The quantity of water is very inconsiderable; but the whole is admirably presented to the eye in one view. The first fall, about twenty feet, precipitates itself into a deep pool, thirty feet diameter; from thence over a second ledge, thirty feet high; and, lastly, it discharges itself into a pool of considerable dimensions. The declivities of the rocks are luxuriantly clothed with wood; the oak more particularly spreading its gigantic arms across the foaming torrent: a variety of trees, indeed, profusely embellish the whole of this glen, which are finely contrasted with the dark brown rocks; constituting so finished a picture, and representing such a variety of colours, that their beauties can be better conceived than described.