The scenery on the high ground near Gwyndû may be commended to the attention of those who describe Anglesey as flat, dull, and featureless. Here the road, to the backward glance, looks down towards Bodffordd, in a deep hollow, and away across the island into a charmingly wooded valley, with great bosses of granite cropping out here and there, and in the distance the inevitable background to Anglesey scenery, the Snowdonian mountains. The hamlet of Llynfaes, with whitewashed granite cottages, very quaint and homely, and very like Cornwall, is pleasing, and at Trefor there is a stretch of tree-shaded road whose like is not often found. Bodedern only is somewhat commonplace, and even that is transfigured by glimpses of the dark Holyhead Mountain and shining sea unfolded as the road goes downhill to Llanyngenedl, and thence to Valley. When it has crossed Telford’s road at this last place, the old way enters upon quite another kind of scenery; very beautiful in its sort. Hills, it is true, are not wholly left behind, but the prevailing landscape is flat, with wide, wild stretches of gorsy and heathery moor, threaded with salt-water creeks and pools. Holy Island is entered at Four-Mile Bridge, a causeway spanning the tidal channel. Windmills, seen in long perspective across the flats, shrilly piping gulls, salt pools, lichened granite rocks, and the ruins of Druidical cromlechs, make up the sum total of foreground and middle distance; with the sea at Penrhos and Trearddur Bay on the left, and a long line of roofs and chimneys in the background under Holyhead Mountain, standing for Holyhead town. LIX If a grand and awe-inspiring finish to the Holyhead Road be sought, let the pilgrim, instead of making for the town, ascend the misty steeps of Holyhead Mountain, and make his rugged and circuitous way to the South Stack. The road runs past some peculiarly depressing outskirts, and by a long row of empty and forlorn cottages offered to be let at fourpence a week, and not finding tenants even at that modest sum. These desolate dwellings were built for the use of the men employed on the Holyhead Harbour Works, and have not been occupied since the Harbour was completed. The South Stack, at the rocky edge of Holy Island, cannot be gained under four miles of wandering by winding roads across the heathery uplands: the way traced by whitewashed stones placed at intervals to mark the track in foggy weather. Long before the traveller gains the cliff’s edge, he will perhaps be suddenly overtaken by one of the sea fogs, and at last come to the place unawares. Then he may be grateful indeed for the strong breast-wall of masonry that saves the strayed visitor from walking over the precipices into the sea some five hundred feet below.