ickly about among the builders, I assure you." We
returned to the road, and when we had ascended a hill, my companion told
me that if I looked to the left I should see the Vale of Clwyd.

I looked and perceived an extensive valley pleasantly dotted with trees
and farm-houses, and bounded on the west by a range of hills.

"It is a fine valley, sir," said my guide, "four miles wide and twenty
long, and contains the richest land in all Wales. Cheese made in that
valley, sir, fetches a penny a pound more than cheese made in any other
valley."

"And who owns it?" said I.

"Various are the people who own it, sir, but Sir Watkin owns the greater
part."

We went on, passed by a village called Craig Vychan, where we saw a
number of women washing at a fountain, and by a gentle descent soon
reached the Vale of Clwyd.

After walking about a mile we left the road and proceeded by a footpath
across some meadows. The meadows were green and delightful and were
intersected by a beautiful stream. Trees in abundance were growing
about, some of which were oaks. We passed by a little white chapel with
a small graveyard before it, which my guide told me belonged to the
Baptists, and shortly afterwards reached Ruthyn.

We went to an inn called the Crossed Foxes, where we refreshed ourselves
with ale. We then sallied forth to look about, after I had ordered a
duck to be got ready for dinner, at three o'clock. Ruthyn stands on a
hill above the Clwyd, which in the summer is a mere brook, but in the
winter a considerable stream, being then fed with the watery tribute of a
hundred hills. About three miles to the north is a range of lofty
mountains, dividing the shire of Denbigh from that of Flint, amongst
which, almost parallel with the town, and lifting its head high above the
rest, is the mighty Moel Vamagh, the mother heap, which I had seen from
Chester. Ruthyn is a dull town, but it possessed plenty of interest to
me, for as I strolled with my guide about the streets I remembered that I
was treading the ground which the wild bands of Glendower had trod, and
where the great struggle commenced, which for fourteen years convulsed
Wales, and for some time shook England to its centre. After I had
satisfied myself with wandering about the town we proceeded to the
castle.

The original castle suffered terribly in the civil wars; it was held for
wretched Charles, and was nearly demolished by the cannon of Cromwell,
which were plant