The two miles leading from Bettws along the Holyhead Road to Rhaiadr-y-Wennol, or the “Swallow Falls,” conduct upwards, out of the hole in whose kindly shelter Bettws lies. Along this somewhat tiring incline a long procession of sight-seers may be seen toiling every day, from April to October, at any time between eight a.m. and seven in the evening, for the Falls have always been considered one of the sights best worth seeing in Wales, and even the Holyhead Mail used to pull up for five minutes to allow passengers to see them. They obtain their pretty name only, it is sad to reflect, by error, in an old confusion of “Wennol,” the Welsh word for “swallow,” with “Ewynol,” which means “foaming,” and is therefore a description merely Saxon in its unimaginative matter-of-fact. To those who would compare the Swallow Falls with Niagara or Alpine waterfalls, with intent to disparage this beautiful spot, we need have nothing to say. Let it be sufficient that these foaming waters, overhung with rocks and fantastically-rooted trees, are sufficiently lovely. The Falls are so close to the road as to be readily seen from it, between the trunks of the little fir plantation that intervenes, while their roaring can be heard far away. They begin with a tumbled race of the Llugwy between scattered rocks, developing into three distinct steps or falls, followed by a long slide. These masses of water, flung riotously upon one another, produce a curiously beautiful effect on the river immediately below, the element being so thoroughly aerated that for many yards onward it is full of air-bubbles as brilliant as the sparklets in champagne or mineral waters. The Swallow Falls have, of course, their legend. Beneath them is supposed to lie the spirit of Sir John Wynn, of Gwydyr, a canny baronet of the early seventeenth century, who was so “shrewd and successful in his dealings” that his Welsh neighbours, rightly or wrongly, thought him enriched by foul means at their expense. Accordingly, here his unhappy shade was sent “to be punished, purged, spouted upon, and purified from the foul deeds done in his days of nature.” According to latest advices, it is here yet, “damned moist, unpleasant.” If all erring shades were banished to such situations, it is to be feared there would not be waterfalls sufficient to go round; but, indeed, it is to a roomier and a drier place that they are generally thought to be consigned. [Illustration: THE SWALLOW FALLS. _From an Old Print._]