To sail from hence to Bardsey Island is both tedious and dangerous. Passing the bay called Hell’s Mouth, of which Mr. Bingley says, “I never saw a place which presented so favourable an appearance, and that was at the time so much dreaded by the mariners as the present. It is at the very end of the promontory, and from point to point is supposed to measure about eight miles; it is also nearly semicircular. None but strange vessels, even in the most boisterous weather, ever seek for shelter here; and when they are so unfortunate, they are soon stranded, and never again return. ‘We remember,’ says Mr. Jones, in one of his letters, ‘more misfortunes to have happened in this bay, and more inhumanity shewn to the sufferers, than we have ever heard of any where else on the Welsh coast.’ My pilot, who had been long acquainted with every part of these coasts, informed me, that, from whatever point of the compass the wind blew out at sea, on account of the surrounding high rocks, it always came into the mouth of this bay; and from whatever quarter the tide flowed, the upper current here always sets inwards. From these circumstances the common tradition is, that the place obtained the appellation of _Hell’s Mouth_. “The whole coast, from the Rivals round the end of the land, nearly to Pwllheli, is terminated only by high and steep rocks, inhabited in the summer by a variety of sea-fowl.” Mr. Bingley, having failed in his attempt to land in Bardsey, gives the following account of that island, from the letters of the Rev. — Jones, vicar of Aberdaron, to whose parish it belongs. ISLAND OF BARDSEY. “This island, which is the property of Lord Newborough, is somewhat more than two miles long, and one in breadth, and contains about three hundred and seventy acres of land; of which nearly one-third is occupied by a high mountain, that affords feed only for a few sheep and rabbits. Its distance from the main land is about a league. Towards the south-east and south-west it lies entirely open, but on the north and north-east it is sheltered by its mountain, which to the sea presents a face of perpendicular, and in some parts overhanging rocks. Among these precipices the intrepid inhabitants, in the spring of the year, employ themselves in collecting the eggs of the various sea-fowl that frequent them. This is usually done bare-footed, to prevent them from slipping from heights, whence they must be dashed to pieces; and their concern for their safety while seizing these eggs, is infinitely less than that of the beholder, sitting securely in the boat below. Nor untrembling canst thou see, How from a craggy rock, whose prominence Half o’ershades the ocean, hardy men Fearless of dashing waves do gather them.