We shall now conduct the Stranger to the Village of Llanberis, which on account of its singular situation, at the end of a Lake, in a narrow Vale, nearly at the foot of Snowdon, is well worth his attention. The distance from Carnarvon is about ten miles; the first five of which, so far as a place called Cwm y Glo, (though rough, uneven, and greatly injured by the Slate Carts) will admit of a Carriage; and from thence a Boat may be engaged. After travelling about a mile and a half from Carnarvon, we obtain a view of the River Seiont, and having proceeded along its banks a short way, we cross it, over a handsome Arch, built in 1769, by one Henry Parry, as appears by a stone in the Battlement, and where he is underservedly denominated the modern _Inigo_: afterwards we turn to the left; on an eminence to the right, at a little distance from the road, is Llanrug, {108} a small Church, dedicated to St. Michael, and formerly called Llanfihangel yn Rûg. Some years ago, the following little Sonnet was written on beholding this small structure, after a few weeks absence: Oft as yon Fane presents its simple form; That small shrill Bell, that duly tolls aloud Each day of rest,—to call the rustic croud; Yon aged Yew-tree, bending with the storm; The thought recurs—that by indulgent Heaven, This humble flock, to feed with constant care, Their morals form, and truths divine declare, To me unworthy, has the charge been given. Then let me still, their faithful Pastor prove, By precepts teach, and bright example lead My flock the upward road, to bliss; and read With fervor due His word, whose name is _Love_! When thus my work is finish’d, and my race is run, That Great, Good Shepherd may pronounce “well done.”