On descending the mountain-path, the traveller may perchance look round for a comfortable resting-place and good refreshment; he will readily find both, either at the Hand, or the King's Head Hotel. In the album of the latter house of entertainment he may also peruse the following bacchanalian effusion in honour of "Llangollen Ale," which he will then be in the mood to enjoy; and as he quaffs this nectar of the valley, he may thus chaunt its praises, if in a convivial humour, to the music of a Welsh harp-- LLANGOLLEN ALE. While other poets loudly rant About Llangollen's Vale, Let me, with better taste, descant Upon Llangollen Ale. The daughters of the place are fair, Its sons are strong and hale: What makes them so? Llangollen air? No, no!--Llangollen Ale. And Nature only beautified The landscape, to prevail On travellers to turn aside And quaff Llangollen Ale. For though the scene might please at first As charms would quickly stale; While he who tastes will ever thirst To drink Llangollen Ale. From rock to rock the Dee may roam, And chafe without avail; It cannot match its yeasty foam Against Llangollen Ale. The umber-tinted trees that crown Bron-vawr's ridge are pale, Contrasted with the nutty brown That tints Llangollen Ale. Nor is the keep of Dinas-bran, Though high and hard to scale, So elevated as the man Who drinks Llangollen Ale. Thy shattered arch, beside the way, Val-crucis, tells a tale Of monks who sometimes went astray To quaff Llangollen Ale. And still upon the saintly spot The pilgrim may regale His fainting spirits with a pot Of good Llangollen Ale. For though the ancient portress may Not offer it for sale, Yet cheerfully to all who pay She gives Llangollen Ale. And, Eliseg, thy pillar rude Is merely--I'll be bail-- A monument to him who brewed The first Llangollen Ale. In short, each ruin, stream, or tree, Within Llangollen's Vale, Where'er I turn, whate'er I see, Is redolent of Ale. _Liverpool_. R. R. The convivial disposition of the monks of the "olden time" has always been a favourite theme with our romance writers and "ballad-mongers;" but it would appear from a passage which Mr. Roscoe quotes, that the cowled brethren of Valle Crucis Abbey did not content themselves in their hours of festivity with draughts of "Llangollen Ale." The wealth of the institution, he infers, may be judged of by the magnificent hospitality of the monks, who are described by Owain as having the table usually covered with four courses of meat, served up in silver dishes, with sparkling claret for their general beverage. "Many have told of the monks of old, What a saintly race they were; But 'tis most true, that a merrier crew Could scarce be found elsewhere; For they sung and laughed, And the rich wine quaffed, And lived on the daintiest cheer.