The settlement of “The Ladies” here synchronised with the appreciation of the picturesque in rural scenery, then a new-born and strange portent. The only travellers along this road into Wales had been those who were obliged to take the journey on business; pleasure in travelling—pleasure in such solitary and rugged scenery—was quite out of the question, and if travellers remembered Llangollen at all, it was as a place where the coach changed horses, and where the one inn afforded the worst cheer at the highest prices. But in the last quarter of the eighteenth century the tourist sprang suddenly into existence. None were more astonished than the Welsh peasantry at this strange spectacle of people who had riches and comfort in their own homes travelling for pleasure and delight in their mountains and rivers; aye, and often walking, not for economy, but for love of that exercise, in strange places. Sometimes the astonished Welshman was incredulous. He would ask, “Where do you come from?” “Why do you come here?” and “Where do you go to from hence?” and, dissatisfied with the answers received, would ask, “Are there, then, no mountains or rivers in England?” One of these early tourists was Warner, author of a “Picturesque Tour.” Arriving at Llangollen on their walk through Wales of over a century ago, Warner and the companion of his pedestrian tour went, of course, to the “Hand.” But that then solitary inn of the place could not attend at once to the tired and hungry tourists. Much more important guests than dusty-footed travellers (always at that time regarded with suspicion) were occupying the attention of the establishment. These were the Margrave of Anspach and his suite, who came, undoubtedly, in carriages, and whose dinner the wearied couple could distinctly smell. Abashed, they went to contemplate the beauties of Valle Crucis, what time the Margrave dined. It is not surprising that they did not altogether care for the place. Empty bellies are not kindly critics of architectural ruins. But what _does_ surprise the reader of their tour is that they went on and explored the mighty hill of Dinas Bran before returning to the “Hand,” when, the Margrave and his suite, even down to the footmen and page-boys, having fed to repletion, they found, at last, some attention. It would seem, judging from an expression used by Daniel O’Connell, that the hotel now called the “Royal,” but originally named the “King’s Head,” was established by some action on the part of the Ladies of Llangollen. The “Hand” was in those days notoriously ill-equipped, and O’Connell wrote in the visitors’ book of the “King’s Head”:— I remember this village with very bad cheer, Ere the Ladies, God bless them, set this inn here; But the traveller now is sure of good fare, Let him stay at this inn, or go to that ’ere; But all who can read will sure understand How vastly superior’s the Head to the Hand.