lf into the sea.

I started about ten o'clock on my expedition, after making, of course, a
very hearty breakfast. Scarcely had I crossed the Devil's Bridge when a
shower of hail and rain came on. As, however, it came down nearly
perpendicularly, I put up my umbrella and laughed. The shower pelted
away till I had nearly reached Spytty Cynwyl, when it suddenly left off
and the day became tolerably fine. On arriving at the Spytty, I was
sorry to find that there would be no service till three in the afternoon.
As waiting till that time was out of the question, I pushed forward on my
expedition. Leaving Pont Erwyd at some distance on my left, I went duly
north till I came to a place amongst hills where the road was crossed by
an angry-looking rivulet, the same, I believe which enters the Rheidol
near Pont Erwyd, and which is called the Castle River. I was just going
to pull off my boots and stockings in order to wade through, when I
perceived a pole and a rail laid over the stream at little distance above
where I was. This rustic bridge enabled me to cross without running the
danger of getting a regular sousing, for these mountain streams, even
when not reaching so high as the knee, occasionally sweep the wader off
his legs, as I know by my own experience. From a lad whom I presently
met I learned that the place where I crossed the water was called Troed
rhiw goch, or the Foot of the Red Slope.

About twenty minutes' walk from hence brought me to Castell Dyffryn, an
inn about six miles distant from the Devil's Bridge, and situated near a
spur of the Plynlimmon range. Here I engaged a man to show me the
sources of the rivers and the other wonders of the mountain. He was a
tall, athletic fellow, dressed in brown coat, round buff hat, corduroy
trousers, linen leggings and highlows, and, though a Cumro, had much more
the appearance of a native of Tipperary than a Welshman. He was a kind
of shepherd to the people of the house, who, like many others in South
Wales, followed farming and inn-keeping at the same time.

CHAPTER LXXXVIII

The Guide--The Great Plynlimmon--A Dangerous Path--Source of the
Rheidol--Source of the Severn--Pennillion--Old Times and New--The Corpse
Candle--Supper.

Leaving the inn, my guide and myself began to ascend a steep hill just
behind it. When we were about halfway up I asked my companion, who spoke
very fair English, why the place was called the Castle.

"Because, sir," said h