Hafod Ychdryd, or the summer mansion of Uchtryd, has from time immemorial
been the name of a dwelling on the side of a hill above the Ystwyth,
looking to the east. At first it was a summer boothie or hunting lodge
to Welsh chieftains, but subsequently expanded to the roomy, comfortable
dwelling of Welsh squires, where hospitality was much practised and bards
and harpers liberally encouraged. Whilst belonging to an ancient family
of the name of Johnes, several members of which made no inconsiderable
figure in literature, it was celebrated, far and wide, for its library,
in which was to be found, amongst other treasures, a large collection of
Welsh manuscripts on various subjects--history, medicine, poetry and
romance. The house, however, and the library were both destroyed in a
dreadful fire which broke out. This fire is generally called the great
fire of Hafod, and some of those who witnessed it have been heard to say
that its violence was so great that burning rafters mixed with flaming
books were hurled high above the summits of the hills. The loss of the
house was a matter of triviality compared with that of the library. The
house was soon rebuilt, and probably, phoenix-like, looked all the better
for having been burnt, but the library could never be restored. On the
extinction of the family, the last hope of which, an angelic girl, faded
away in the year 1811, the domain became the property of the late Duke of
Newcastle, a kind and philanthrophic nobleman, and a great friend of
agriculture, who held it for many years, and considerably improved it.
After his decease it was purchased by the head of an ancient Lancashire
family, who used the modern house as a summer residence, as the Welsh
chieftains had used the wooden boothie of old.

I went to a kind of lodge, where I had been told that I should find
somebody who would admit me to the church, which stood within the grounds
and contained a monument which I was very desirous of seeing, partly from
its being considered one of the masterpieces of the great Chantrey, and
partly because it was a memorial to the lovely child, the last scion of
the old family who had possessed the domain. A good-looking young woman,
the only person whom I saw, on my telling my errand, forthwith took a key
and conducted me to the church. The church was a neat edifice with
rather a modern look. It exhibited nothing remarkable without, and only
one thing remarkable within, namely, th