Chapter VI: Part 6

From Wilton to Monmouth the scenery grows in beauty. At Goodrich Cross we should turn sharply to the left to visit the castle, and this is a matter that will take some time. For in the first place the castle is at some distance from the road, and in the second place there is much to see, and much, too, to hear. Yet there is little history connected with Goodrich, considering its age and dignity, and the great names of Pembroke and Talbot that are bound up with it. Its name, apparently is a corruption of _Godric_, who built a fort here before the Conquest, though the oldest part of the present ruin is said to date from the twelfth century. In the Civil War it endured two sieges, and it was after the second one, which lasted for five months, that the Parliament dismantled it. Except on this one dramatic occasion, Goodrich figured little in public life. It is the antiquary rather than the historian who will find it of absorbing interest, for the arches and Norman ornaments of the keep date from Stephen’s reign, and many styles of architecture are represented in the various galleries, sallyports, and towers, which have been gradually added by the successive owners of the castle. Greatest of these was Talbot, first Earl of Shrewsbury and hero of forty fights, “a valiant man, of an invincible, unconquered spirit.” He is said to have added a room to the keep, whence he must often have seen, as we may see, the Malvern Hills and the Welsh mountains in the distance, with Symond’s Yat and the Kymin nearer at hand.

Below Goodrich is Huntsham Ferry, which Henry IV. was in the act of crossing when he heard of the birth of his son, afterwards Henry V. So great was his excitement on this occasion that he impulsively presented the ferry and its profits to the ferryman, whose heirs held this possession for generations.

About three miles from Goodrich we have to climb a short hill with a gradient of 1 in 10; the steepest, I think, on this Wye Valley road. From the top of it we run down on an easy slope past the wall of Wyaston Leys and through the woods behind the Little Doward, with a beautiful view--unfortunately visible only in glimpses--of the winding river as it bends away towards Symond’s Yat. At the foot of the hill we enter Monmouth.

Now Monmouth, or some spot quite near it, is without doubt the best motoring centre on the Wye. The town itself is not so pleasant to stay in as Ross or Tintern, where there are hotels in pretty positions with nice gardens; but to the motorist this is less important than to others, since he will probably spend the day on the road. The important thing is to have a variety of interesting roads upon which to spend it. From Monmouth, one may drive up the Wye to Goodrich, Hereford, and Hay; or down the Wye to Tintern and Chepstow; or through the Forest of Dean on the further side of the river; or to Raglan, eight miles away, and on to Abergavenny; or past Abergavenny and the Holy Mountain into the wild Vale of Ewyas to far Llanthony.

“I’ll tell you, there is goot men porn at Monmouth,” says Fluellen, thinking of his king; and it is of Harry of Monmouth that we too think as we wake the echoes of his birthplace with our horn--those echoes that have so often answered to the “tucket” of John of Gaunt and of many another. Some say that it was John of Gaunt who built the castle in which his grandson was born, but whether this be the case or not there was a castle on this spot long before his day, though little seems to be known of it. The probability is that John of Gaunt improved and repaired the castle that was already there. The existing building has had an unusually chequered career even for a castle, having been in turn a palace, a pig-stye, an assize court, and a barrack. Even in James I.’s time it was said “that his Majestie hath one ancient castell, called Monmouth Castell ... which is nowe and hath been for a long time ruinous and in decaye, but by whom it hath byn decayed wee knowe not, nor to what value, in regarde it was before our rememberment.” “Harry’s Window,” but little else, survives as a shrine to the king whose name is still “a name to conjure with.” His statue stands on the town-hall, but the bells of St. Mary’s are the best memorial of Prince Hal, though their story is more characteristic of the rollicking schoolboy of Shakespeare than of the wise and soldierly monarch of history. Time was when these bells rang out over the town of Calais. They were doing so when Harry of Monmouth heard them first, and were, in point of fact, celebrating his departure from the shores of France with so much joyousness that the demonstration seemed to him to be carried too far. He vowed that they should ring no more insolent peals in Calais, and forthwith ordered them to be taken down and carried to his native town.

His town has other memories than his, and even other famous windows than “Harry’s.” There is a fine oriel window, belonging now to a school, but carefully preserved in honour of a twelfth-century archdeacon, who was none other than that Geoffrey of Monmouth whom Camden describes as “an Author well skill’d in Antiquities, but, as it seems, not of entire credit.” I fear there is little to be said in defence of Geoffrey’s credit as a historian, and there are those who say that his window is no more authentic than his writings.

Monmouth, like Hereford, is not rich in relics. Of its defences, its walls and its four gates, there is left only one gate on the Monnow Bridge, but of this the foundations are so old that there is no record of their origin. The form of the gateway itself has been slightly altered from time to time to suit increasing traffic, but its picturesqueness is uninjured. Through its arch we must pass on our way to Raglan and Abergavenny and Llanthony.

It is possible, of course, to see all these places on the same day, but it is not desirable. At Raglan one should have a leisured mind, undisturbed by thoughts of space or time or possible punctures. There are seats on its green terraces where one might sit happily all day under the shadow of the Yellow Tower of Gwent, seeing, not only the straight, stern lines of the great citadel rising from the moat, and the beautiful windows beyond, and the machicolated towers that flank the entrance, but also, as clearly as these, the pageantry and doughty deeds of long-dead but unforgotten Somersets. Some of them lost their heads in defence of the Rose of York, and some lost theirs for the Rose of Lancaster, and one, the most famous of all, lost the home of his fathers in the cause of the thankless Stuarts. Charles I. himself--for whose sake all this splendour of banqueting-halls and state-rooms and strong defences was made a ruin--has stood upon this terrace and looked up at the great keep to which he was so fatal, has feasted in the Elizabethan Hall, has ridden between the entrance-towers in state, and has come to them for safety as a fugitive. It was after the Battle of Naseby that he fled for protection to the house whose hospitalities he knew so well, and whose owner, the first Marquis of Worcester, had raised an army of two thousand men to fight for the King. Somewhere, in some dark corner within those walls that were then so stately, Lord Worcester met his ruined King by stealth, and being aged and infirm was obliged to call for help before he could kneel, as it behoved him, before the fugitive. “Sire,” said the old man weeping, “I have not a thought in my heart that tends not to the service of my God and you;” and he put three hundred pounds into the royal hand that took so much and gave so little. It closed upon this gift, as it closed a few days later upon the waistcoat that the Vicar of Goodrich, Dean Swift’s grandfather, had lined with Broad Pieces. There was one occasion, it is true, when Charles feared his entertainment might be too costly to Lord Worcester, and suggested pleasantly that supplies should be wrung from the neighbouring peasants. But Worcester was prouder than the King, “My castle would not stand long,” he said, “if it leaned upon the country.”

Even as matters were, his castle did not stand long. It held for the King till the last barrel of powder was opened; but the sad day came when the gallant old man of eighty-five passed for the last time through his own great gateway, between those warlike towers that had fought their last fight. He marched out to the sound of music and with all the honours of war, but his heart was broken, and after a short imprisonment in the custody of Black Rod, he died. “When I spoke with the man,” he said of his guardian, “I found him a very civil gentleman, but I saw no black rod.”

With this splendid old warrior the glory of Raglan departed. Fairfax so dealt with it that neither blood nor wine should ever be spilt within its walls again; and the work begun by him was finished by private enterprise. It is said that twenty-three staircases have been stolen from the ruins of Raglan.

About eight miles beyond Raglan is Abergavenny, lying peacefully--forgetful of its lurid past--in the shadow of the Holy Mountain. There is about Abergavenny now a peculiar serenity that is only equalled by the darkness of its history. Not very much is left of the Castle, of which Giraldus Cambrensis, the historian, said that “it was more dishonoured by treachery than any other in Wales”; and what there is of it is dishonoured now by swing-boats and asphalt lawn-tennis courts. If these attractions appeal to us we may enter the walls by paying twopence; but in the twelfth century the Seisyllts--the ancestors of the Cecils--found that entering Abergavenny Castle cost them more than this. One of them, in the absence of the Norman lord of the place, was having a friendly chat one day with the constable. There was a part of the wall that was in some way weaker than the rest, and Seisyllt, pointing laughingly to this spot, said in the manner of one who jests, “We shall come in there to-night.” The constable took the precaution of keeping guard till daylight, then went to sleep. A few hours later he and his wife were prisoners and the castle was captured and burnt.

It was after this, I believe, when the castle had been rebuilt, that the villain, William de Braose, invited the princes of South Wales to a banquet in these halls, picked a quarrel with them at his own table, and had them massacred before his eyes. He then solemnly thanked God for the fortunate issue of the affair, and more especially for the lands of the dead Seisyllts. For this William de Braose, traitor, murderer, and robber, never forgot to be pious. “He always placed the name of the Lord before his sentences,” says Giraldus; and his letters “were loaded, or rather honoured, with words expressive of the divine indulgence, to a degree not only tiresome to his scribe, but even to his auditors; for as a reward to each of his scribes for concluding his letters with the words ‘by divine assistance’ he gave annually a piece of gold.” In the matter of the murdered Seisyllts, however, his thanksgiving was premature, for there were Seisyllts still alive who fell upon Abergavenny Castle and demolished it.

It raised its head again and took an active part in larger wars; but it adds little nowadays to the attraction of Abergavenny, whose charms are altogether those of peacefulness and depend on the quiet Usk, and the hills that grow so purple against the evening sky. To reach Llanthony we must drive on into the heart of those hills, with the Skirrid Fawr, or Holy Mountain, on the right and the Sugar Loaf on the left; then, at Llanfihangel Crucorney, turn sharply to the left down a short but very steep hill, and so enter the Vale of Ewyas. Soon after passing Cwmyoy the road grows very narrow and hilly. At Llanthony we can take our car into the cloister-garth, for it is now the courtyard of an inn.

Long ago, when Rufus was king, a horseman drew rein here and looked about him. On every side he saw the grand, clear outline of the hills, and the shadows of the clouds sweeping across the fern and heather, and the dark masses of the woods. Below him the little Honddu glittered among the trees, and far away at the head of the valley the heights of the Black Mountains rose between him and the world. And then and there he vowed that they should rise between him and the world while he lived, and should guard his grave when he was dead. We can see the same hills at this moment rising blue and misty behind the ruined towers of his Priory of Llanthony; and only a few yards away, among the grass and nettles, we can see the spot where William de Lacy, soldier and monk, was buried under the High Altar.

William de Lacy was not the first to whom this valley appealed as being “truly fitted for contemplation, a happy and delightful spot”; for long before his day this very place to which he had wandered by chance had been made sacred by the prayers of the greatest of all Welsh saints, St. David. We may say our prayers on the self-same spot to-day, for over there, just beyond the cloister-garth, where St. David had long before made himself a hermitage, de Lacy built a tiny chapel. For many centuries the richly endowed Priory has been deserted, roofless, desecrated; its very arches are fringed with weeds, and fowls peck at its grass-grown altar steps; but over there in that plain little grey stone building prayers are still rising Sunday by Sunday from the spot where St. David knelt alone.

Here in Llandewi Nanthodeni, or the Church of St. David beside the river Honddu, William de Lacy “laid aside his belt and girded himself with a rope; instead of fine linen he covered himself with haircloth, and instead of his soldier’s robe he loaded himself with weighty iron.” His solitude did not last long. In those roystering days the sudden piety of a soldier of noble birth was not likely to pass unnoticed, and Matilda, Henry I.’s Queen, whom William of Malmesbury describes as singularly holy and by no means despicable in point of beauty, came to visit the hermit in his hill-bound cell, and playfully dropped a large purse of gold into the folds of his coarse garments. His fame grew. Soon there were many who desired to share his seclusion, and still more who, while not quite seeing their way to the forsaking of this world, were anxious to show their interest in the next. The former gave their lives and the latter their money, and so Llanthony Priory rose in all its grace and simplicity, the quiet lines of its architecture in perfect harmony with those of the great hills that encircled it. “The whole treasure of the King and his kingdom,” said Henry I.’s Prime Minister, “would not be sufficient to build such a cloister.” The Court was rather scandalised by this bold statement, till the Prime Minister explained that “he alluded to the cloister of mountains by which this church is on every side surrounded.”

Giraldus describes the place as he saw it in the twelfth century. “A situation truly calculated for religion,” he says, “and more adapted to canonical discipline than all the monasteries of the British Isles.... Here the monks, sitting in their cloisters enjoying the fresh air, when they happen to look up towards the horizon, behold the tops of the mountains as it were touching the heavens, and herds of wild deer feeding on their summits.” It is probable that when the Augustinians of Llanthony looked up towards the horizon it was not altogether for the pleasure of seeing the wild deer. They had other reasons for taking an interest in the hills, which too often were swarming with the hostile Welsh. It was not long, indeed, before the brethren’s terror of the Welsh grew stronger than their love of isolation, and the greater number of them fled to Gloucester, where in a new Priory of Llanthony their meditations were undisturbed.

The beautiful valley, with its great, bare hilltops and mysterious woods, its loneliness and calm, its memories of saintly men, attracted a poet of the last century so strongly that he, like William de Lacy, determined to stay here. Like de Lacy’s monks, however, Walter Savage Landor could not get on with his neighbours, and after buying the ruins of the Priory and building himself half a house he quarrelled so thoroughly with all the countryside that he thought he would have more peace elsewhere. He lived in the rooms that now form an inn, in the Prior’s Lodge, and here Southey stayed with him.

This run from Monmouth to Llanthony is about twenty-five miles in length. If we are not wedded to the high-road we may return to Monmouth by another route--composed almost entirely of byways and in some cases very hilly ones--and so visit Grosmont and Skenfrith Castles. The red towers of Grosmont stand, as the name implies, on a hill that is not climbed without an effort, and the ruin overlooks a village that was once a town, and indeed is technically a town still. It still possesses a charter, I believe, and a Mayor’s staff; but in the matter of size and prosperity it has been no more than a village since the day when Henry V., then Prince of Wales, wrote to his “most redoubted and most sovereign lord and father” in his “most humble manner” to this effect: “On Wednesday the eleventh day of this present month of March (1405) your rebels of the parts of Glamorgan, Morgannoc, Usk, Netherwent, and Overwent, were assembled to the number of eight thousand men, according to their own account; and they went on the said Wednesday in the morning, and burnt part of your town of Grosmont ... and I immediately sent off my very dear cousin, the Lord Talbot, and the small body of my own household ... who were but a very small force in all.... And there, by the aid of the Blessed Trinity, your people gained the field and vanquished all the said rebels, and slew of them by fair account on the field on their return from the chase, some say eight hundred, and some say a thousand, being questioned on pain of death. Nevertheless, whether it were one or the other, on such an account I would not contend.”

That was a sad day for poor Alice Scudamore, who lived hard by at Kentchurch Court beyond the river Monnow; for Alice Scudamore, or Skydmore, was the daughter of Owen Glyndwr, and the dead men whom Prince Henry left upon the field of Grosmont were Owen’s followers. This defeat was Owen’s first serious disaster, and was for him the beginning of the end. It is said that years later, after the end had come, he lived for a time with his daughter in the castellated tower that still stands below the hill of Grosmont; and, indeed, Kentchurch sometimes claims to be his burial-place. But the claims of Monnington, where another of his daughters lived, are generally thought to be more authentic.

By making a very short detour from the direct road we may see the ruins of Skenfrith Castle on our way back to Monmouth. Even in the seventeenth century this castle was described as having been “decayed time out of the memory of man,” and its remains are now naturally scanty and not especially picturesque. Far more interesting than the castle is the church, with its pretty timbered tower and fine sixteenth-century tombs. At the vicarage is carefully preserved the rarest treasure of this church: a cope that dates from the days before the Reformation.

On the other side of Monmouth, beyond the Wye, is the Forest of Dean, where one may drive for miles through country nearly as grand and quite as thickly wooded as the Black Forest. In most cases the trees are not nearly so fine as those of our own New Forest, for the greater part of this Forest of Dean was cut down to build our victorious fleets of the eighteenth century; but the width of view and the succession of tree-clad hills rising one beyond another, are compensations for the lack of magnificent individual trees. Of these, however, there are a few, such as the Newland Oak and the High Beeches. But on the whole the beauty of Dean Forest lies in its distant views, its great expanses of foliage stretching away from one’s feet to the blue horizon, as at the Speech House and above Parkend, and at many another place; though unfortunately many of these views are partly, if not entirely, spoilt by the black scars and smoking chimneys of the collieries. The Speech House is now a hotel, but it was originally built in Charles II.’s day as a kind of Court House in which to settle disputes connected with the Forest. St. Briavel’s Castle, a few miles further south than this, and nearer the Wye, is a far older relic, for it is said that it once sheltered King John. Be that as it may, the little that is left of this castle is peculiarly attractive. To reach it, or the Speech House, or indeed to drive in the Forest of Dean at all, one must be prepared to encounter long hills with gradients in some places not less than 1 in 7, and roads that have suffered a good deal from the heavy traffic connected with the mines.

There is one expedition from Monmouth that we cannot possibly undertake in a car, yet should by no means omit. The famous Symond’s Yat, with its perfect river scenery, cannot be approached by road, but it is easy to reach it by train, and very delightful to return to Monmouth by water, past the great limestone crags known as the Seven Sisters. At the hotel, where the train deposits one, the attraction is simply the view of the river and its wooded banks, but for the energetic this view may be much enlarged by half an hour’s climb to the summit of the Yat itself, where those who enjoy scenery in proportion to the number of counties visible, may have the satisfaction of seeing seven. It was near Symond’s Yat, at a defile significantly called The Slaughter to this day, that the Danes, under Eric of the Bloody Axe, were defeated by King Alfred’s son Edward the Elder, named also the Unconquered, whom Matthew of Westminster declares to have been “even more glorious than his father for power and dignity.”

The last fifteen miles of the Wye Valley, from Monmouth to Chepstow, where the Wye falls into the estuary of the Severn, are probably as beautiful as any fifteen miles of English road. It is late in May or early in October that we should drive along this road to see it at its best, for the whole landscape is filled with trees. The quiet river, with the road close beside it, winds between two wooded heights from Redbrook to the Severn. A gentle rise takes us out of Redbrook, which has spoilt its beauty by manufacturing tin-plate; then we run down to Bigsweir Bridge, and cross it, with a lovely view downstream; pass Llandogo, where the Wye becomes tidal; pass Brockweir with its ferry; and driving through Tintern Parva come within sight of the unsurpassed beauty of Tintern Abbey.

Go to Tintern again and again, for it never palls. See it when the trees are first breaking into leaf, and all the leaves are of different colours; and see it again against the heavy foliage of the summer woods; and again when the hills behind it are red and gold in autumn. For the Cistercians, though they denied art, were surely admirable artists; and being forbidden by their stern rule to adorn their churches with coloured glass or superfluous carving, they raised for themselves buildings of perfect form in the loveliest places in all England, where in spring and autumn the cold grey stone of their exquisite windows was the frame of fairer colours than were ever stained on glass.

It was of this abbey that the incomparable Gilpin wrote quite gravely: “A number of gable-ends hurt the eye with their regularity and disgust it by the vulgarity of their shape.” A mallet, judiciously used, he suggested, might make improvements. Unfortunately time and long neglect have done only too much towards the ruin of Tintern, without any help from the judicious mallet of Gilpin. For many years the place was utterly uncared for; the stones were used by any one who wished to build a cottage, and an old beggar-woman made her dwelling in the library of the monks. This was long ago: every care is given to Tintern now. The floor of the nave is covered with well-kept turf, the fallen fragments of masonry are gathered together, the weak places of the building are strengthened wherever it is possible. But the alarming curves of the arches bear witness to past neglect, and the timid tourist is appalled by the ominous warning on the notice-board: “Persons who visit this Abbey do so at their own risk.” This is discouraging.

From Tintern the road rises for about three miles towards the splendid scenery of the Wyndcliff. The river winds below, and beyond it among the trees a discerning eye may detect the straight ridge of Offa’s Dyke. The view from the road as it passes beneath the famous cliff is wonderfully beautiful--a view of tortuous river and height beyond height of woodland, and gleaming in the distance the waters of the Severn estuary: and those who climb the Wyndcliff come down again well contented, having seen nine counties.

As we pass the little village at St. Arvan’s the river is completely hidden by the walls and trees of Piercefield Park. A gentle descent of about two miles brings us to the steep hill that winds downwards into Chepstow above the castle, passing under one of the old town-gates.

“The towne of Chepstow hath bene very strongly waulled,” says Leland. “The waulles began at the ende of the great bridge over Wy, and so cam to the castel, the which yet standeth fayr and strong.” To all appearances, as seen from the further side of Wye, it is strong still, and fair it certainly is, standing high upon the red cliffs that add so much to the beauty of this last bend of the river. It covers three acres of ground, but as it is built in a succession of courts, sloping upwards one above the other, the whole of its great length may be seen at once and the effect is very fine. This castle, since it was built by William FitzOsborne, Earl of Hereford, soon after the Conquest, has seen a good deal of life, and even more of death. Its second owner forfeited it, being of too independent a temperament to please the King. William, having safely imprisoned this rebellious Roger, sent him as an Easter gift his own royal robes--an attention that was meant well, but was not very tactful. Earl Roger “forthwith caused a great fire to be made, and the mantle, the inner surcoat of silk, and the upper garment, lined with precious furs, to be suddenly burnt.” This was his last act of rebellion. “By the brightness of God,” exclaimed the flouted King, “he shall never come out of prison as long as I live!”

Later on the castle passed to the great house of Clare.

“From Chepstow’s towers, ere dawn of morn,
Was heard afar the bugle-horn;
And forth in banded pomp and pride
Stout Clare and fiery Neville ride.”[13]

The greatest of the Clares, Richard Strongbow, sometimes called the Conqueror of Ireland, was born at Chepstow; “a man tall in stature,” we are told, “and of great generosity, and courteous manner.... In time of peace he was more disposed to be led by others than to command,” but “the post he occupied in battle was a sure rallying-point for his troops.”

The castle passed from hand to hand through the stirring centuries that followed Strongbow’s day. In the Civil War it had many adventures. It held for the King at first, was taken by the army of the Parliament, and was recaptured by a handful of Royalists under Sir Nicholas Kemys, by guile rather than by force. “On the whole,” says Carlyle, “Cromwell will have to go.... Let him march swiftly!” He marched swiftly and took the town of Chepstow, but besieged the castle in vain. Carlyle tells the tale in few words: “Castle will not surrender,--he leaves Colonel Ewer to do the Castle; who, after four weeks, does it.” It was not easily, however, that Colonel Ewer “did it.” The garrison, reduced to nineteen, held out till they were starving, and even then determined, not on surrender, but on flight. Their boat lay ready beneath the walls, waiting for the darkness. But when night came no boat was there, for a soldier of the Parliament, a man of keen eyes, had detected both the boat and her object, and, with a knife between his teeth, had swum across the Wye and cut the rope that moored her to the river-bank. The next day the nineteen Royalists surrendered. Thus Colonel Ewer “did the castle.”

During the Commonwealth Jeremy Taylor, the author of “Holy Living and Holy Dying”--according to Coleridge the most eloquent of divines--was imprisoned in Chepstow Castle as a follower of Archbishop Laud: and here, too, when Cromwell’s day was over, Sir Henry Marten, the regicide, suffered a mild form of imprisonment for twenty years. He was allowed not only to receive his friends but to visit them, and he was not deprived of the companionship of his wife. From what I read, however, I cannot assure myself that he appreciated the last of these privileges. He was buried in Chepstow Church, under an epitaph that he composed himself--a rhyming epitaph of a high moral tone. Yet neither poetry nor morality was Marten’s strong point. At a later date a loyalist vicar removed from the chancel to the nave the bones of the man who had signed Charles I.’s death-warrant.

Chepstow Church once formed part of a Benedictine Priory connected with the Norman Abbey of Cormeilles, and was originally the nave of a larger building. It dates from early in the twelfth century; and even if one has not time to enter the church it is well worth while to drive past the beautiful Early Norman entrance. There are some interesting tombs within, notably that of the second Earl of Worcester, who was present at the Field of the Cloth of Gold.

Two miles south of Chepstow is Mathern, where Tewdric of Glamorganshire, saint and king, was buried. He was killed in a battle fought at Tintern, and in the year 600 a chapel was built here as a shrine for him.

“Wye also,” says Leland, “a very great and famose river, passeth through Ventland, and at S. Tereudake’s Chapel entereth ynto Severn.”

INDEX

Abbeydore, 236

Abbey Foregate, Shrewsbury, 24

Aber, 101

Aberaeron, 222

Aberavon, 180

Aberconwy, 82, 88

Aberdaron, 112, 115-117

Aberdovy, 152-155, 157

Abergavenny, 247, 249, 252-254

Abergele, 84, 85

Aberglaslyn, Pass of, 94, 95, 110

Abergwili, 190

Aberteifi, 219

Aberystwith, 141, 142-145, 148, 149, 222, 225

Agincourt, 152

Alaw, River, 121

Albright Hussey, 46, 47

Alla Wen, 97

Anglesey, 100-102

Anglo-Saxon Chronicle, 239

Arthur, King, 115, 167, 168, 240

Arthur, Prince, 6, 9, 14

Atcham, 25

Bala, 152, 159-161

Bala, Lake of, 159, 162

Baldwin, Archbishop, 102, 118, 119, 172

Bangor, 98

Bardsey, 112, 115

Baring-Gould, Rev. S., 147

Barlow, Bishop, 199, 213, 214

Barmouth, 123, 125, 128, 222

Barmouth Estuary, 125, 126, 152, 155, 156, 158

Baron Hill, 101

Bassetts, 174

Battlefield, 34

Baxter, Richard, 27, 43, 44

Bayston Hill, 12

Beaupré, 62, 165, 173-175

Beaumaris, 99, 100-102

Bedd Gelert, 95, 110

Belesme, Robert de, 43

Benbow, Admiral, 45

Bendigeid Vran, 120, 121

Berkeley Castle, 170

Berwyn, 77

Bethesda, 98

Bettws-y-Coed, 81, 82, 85, 91, 92, 94, 95, 108

Borth, 113, 149

Boscobel, 29, 31-33, 44

Bigsweir Bridge, 265

Birmingham Waterworks, 229

Bishop’s Castle, 52, 55, 56

Black Mountains, 232, 255

Bolingbroke, 85

Borrow, George, 69, 79, 107, 109, 141, 187, 222

Boteler of Dunraven, 177, 178

Brampton Brian, 58, 59

Branwen, 120, 121

Braose, Matilda de, 186, 187

Braose, William de, 185, 186, 253, 254

Brecon, 151, 183, 185-187

Brecon Beacons, 184, 185, 187

Breidden Hills, 62, 134

Bridgend, 177, 178, 180

Bridge Sollars, 234, 236

Bridgnorth, 42-45

Bridstow, 240

Briton Ferry, 180, 181

Brockweir, 265

Bromfield, 10

Broseley, 45

Browning, Robert, 71

Brychan, 185

Brydges, Charles, 24

Buildwas, 26-28, 44

Builth, 222, 230, 231

Butler, Lady Eleanor, 71

Bwlch Oerdrws, 132, 133

Cadell, Prince of South Wales, 146

Cader Idris, 125, 126, 132, 157, 158

Caerleon, 115, 166-169, 216

Caerphilly, 166, 169, 170

Caersws, 138

Caldey Island, 198

Camden, 89, 98, 233, 235, 249

Cann Office, 133

Capel Curig, 96, 108

Caradoc, 12, 25

Caradoc of Llancarvan, 87, 194

Cardiff, 166, 170, 171, 173

Cardiff Waterworks, 184

Cardigan, 219-221

Carew Castle, 205-208

Carew, Celtic Cross, 205

Carlyle, Thomas, 203, 270

Carmarthen, 187, 190-195, 222

Carnarvon, 85, 99, 103-105

Carningley, 218

Castell Crogen, 68

Caus Castle, 54

Cawdor, Lord, 218

Cefn-y-Bedd, 231

Ceiriog, River, 64, 67, 68

Ceiriog, Valley of the, 67

Ceirw, River, 79

Cernioge, 79, 80

Cerrig Cennen, 189, 190

Cerrig-y-Druidion, 78, 79

Charles I., 15, 17, 20, 43, 91, 122, 242, 250, 251, 271

Charles II., 29, 31-33, 69

Chastillon, Battle of, 48

Chepstow, 225, 247, 265, 268-272

Chester, Hugh, Earl of, 98

Chirbury, 52-54

Chirbury, Lord Herbert of, 52-54

Chirk, 64, 67-69

Churchstoke, 55

Cilgerran, 187, 220, 221

Clare, Gilbert de, 169

Clifford Castle, 234

Clifford, Jane de, 234

Clun, 56-58

Clungunford, 60

Clwyd, River, 84

Clynnogfawr, 112, 117, 118

Cochwillan Woods, 98

Coity, 179-180

Coleridge, 22, 271

Colwyn Bay, 85

Comus, 8

Concenn, 76

Conway, 82, 85, 86, 88-90

Conway, River, 80, 83

Corbet, Captain, 54

Corbet, Sir Vincent, 51

Cormeilles, Abbey of, 272

Corris, 152, 155, 157

Corwen, 68, 77, 78, 161

Cothercott Hill, 55

Cothi, River, 222

Cound, 38

Cowbridge, 173

Cox, David, 82

Craven Arms, 60

Cressage, 38, 39

Criccieth, 112-114

Crogen, Battle of, 68

Cromwell, Oliver, 43, 85, 120, 144, 157, 203, 243, 270, 271

Cross Foxes, 158

Cross Houses, 38

Cwm Bychan, 123, 130

Cwm Hir Abbey, 139

Cwmyoy, 255

Cymmer Abbey, 126

Dafydd ap Gwilym, 147

Dale, 202

Darby, Abraham, 28

Darwin, Charles, 18, 22, 61

Davy Gam, 151, 152

Dean, Forest of, 143, 247, 262, 263

Dee, River, 49, 69, 70, 74, 76, 77, 85, 161, 162

Deganwy, 86-88, 106

Derwydd Station, 190

Despensers, 170

Devereux, Penelope, 200

Devil’s Bridge, 141

Dinan, de, 9

Dinas Bran, 70, 71

Dinas Mawddy, 132, 133

Dinmore Hill, 236

Dolbadarn, 92, 105

Doldowlod Woods, 230

Dolgelley, 126, 128, 129, 130, 131, 132, 152, 155, 158, 159

Dolwyddelan, 82, 92, 93, 94

Dore, River, 235

Dryslwyn Castle, 190

Dubritius, 115, 240

Dulas, River, 157

Dunraven, 177

Dwryd, River, 118, 119

Dyfi (Dovey), River, 131, 149, 152-155, 157

Dynevor, 187, 188, 189, 190

Eaton Constantine, 26, 27, 44

Edeyrnion, Vale of, 77

Edmund, Prince, 6

Edward the Black Prince, 113

Edward the Elder, 264

Edward I., 21, 42, 82, 84, 86, 92, 102, 114, 120, 144, 194, 212, 236,
237

Edward II., 42, 104, 170, 182

Edward IV., 5, 6, 120, 122, 209

Edward V., 6, 7

Egerton, Lady Alice, 8

Eglwyseg Rocks, 70

Elan Valley, 227-230

Eleanor, Queen, 104, 212

Elfreton, Henry de, 88, 120, 169

Eliseg’s Pillar, 76

Elizabeth, Queen, 89, 91, 244

Ellesmere, 45, 50

Erbistock, 45, 49, 50

Eric of the Bloody Axe, 264

Erwood, 232

Essex, Earl of, 14, 200

Ethelbert, King, 238, 239

Ethelfleda, 15, 53, 185

Ewenny, 173, 178, 179, 195

Ewer, Colonel, 270, 271

Ewyas, Vale of, 247, 255-259

Exmoor, 173, 177

Fairbourne, 155

Fairfax, General, 203, 252

Fair Rosamund, 234

Feathers Hotel, Ludlow, 4, 5

Fishguard, 217, 218

Fitz-Osborne, Roger, 268, 269

Fitz-Osborne, William, 268

Fitz-Warines, 64

Flemings, 140, 208, 209, 219, 226

Flint, 85

Fuller, Thomas, 48

Ganllwyd, Vale of, 129, 130

Geirionydd, Lake, 91, 149

Geoffrey of Monmouth, 249

George IV., 243

Gildas, 175

Gilpin, 242, 266

Giraldus Cambrensis, 100, 102, 118, 119, 198, 209, 215, 253, 254, 258

Glamorganshire, 173

Glan Dovey, 150

Glasbury, 232

Glaslyn, River, 109, 110, 118

Gloucester, 259

Glydyrs, 97

Glyn Ceiriog, 68

Glyndwr, Owen, 57, 61, 74, 77, 88, 98, 104, 106, 116, 120, 122, 127,
128, 131, 140, 143, 144, 148, 150-152, 191, 192, 208, 226, 233, 234,
261

Glyndyffws, Pass of, 78

Glyndyfrdwy, 77, 78

Glyn-Neath, 183

Gobowen, 64

Godiva, 41

Godstow, 234

Golden Valley, 235

Goodrich, 244, 245, 246

Goodrich, Vicar of, 251

Goodwick, 217

Gower, 192

Gower, Bishop, 199, 212, 213

Grey, Lord, of Ruthin, 106

Griffith ap Cynan, 155

Griffith Gryg, 147

Griffith ap Llewelyn, 113

Griffith ap Nicholas, 187

Griffith, Prince of Gwynedd, 87

Griffith, Prince of South Wales, 219

Grosmont, 260, 261

Guinevere, 166

Gwaelod, Plain of, 123

Gwenllian, daughter of the Lord Rhys, 194, 195

Gwenllian, mother of the Lord Rhys, 195, 214, 219

Gwyddno Longshanks, 124

Gwydir, 91

Gwynedd, 91, 92, 100, 112, 118, 154, 220

Gwynne, Nell, 69

Hanmer, 49

Harlech, 85, 88, 116, 119-122, 128, 129

Harley, Lady, 58, 59

Harold, King, 98, 237

Haughmond Abbey, 36-38

Haughmond Hill, 34

Haverfordwest, 205, 208-210

Hawkestone, 35

Hay, 62, 232-234, 235, 246

Hazlitt, William, 22

Heber, Bishop, 36

Henllan Woods, 221

Henry I., 42, 209

Henry II., 37, 42, 50, 68, 189, 212

Henry III., 37, 233

Henry IV., 20, 34, 42, 85, 101, 120, 122, 131, 148, 192, 245, 260

Henry V., 34, 78, 143, 144, 152, 245, 247, 248, 260, 261

Henry VII., 13, 14, 61, 157, 193, 202, 206

Henry VIII., 37, 172, 182, 213-14

Herbert, George, 53

Herbert, Lord, of Chirbury, 52-54

Hereford, 143, 225, 226, 235, 236-239, 243, 246

Hereford, Archdeacon of, 192

Herefordshire, 232, 235

Hirwain, 183

Hodnet, 35, 36

Holyhead Road, 60, 77, 95, 161

Holy Mountain, 247, 252, 255

Honddu, River, 255, 257

Hookagate, 55

Hope Valley, 56

Hotspur, Harry, 34, 89

Howel y Fwyall, 113

Howel Sele, 127, 128

Huntsham Ferry, 245

Inigo Jones, 82, 83

Iolo Goch, 74

Iorwerth, 93

Ireland, 121, 215

Ironbridge, 28, 44, 45

Isabella, Queen, 237

Ivetsey Bank, 33

James I., 247

James II., 17

Jeffreys, Judge, 27, 47

Jeremy Taylor, 271

Joan, Queen, 50, 90, 101

John, King, 42, 50, 86, 87, 90, 98, 106, 186, 237, 263

John of Gaunt, 212, 237, 247

Johnson, Dr., 22, 27, 98

Katherine of Arragon, 6

Kenfig, 180

Kemys, Sir Nicholas, 270

Kentchurch, 261

Kidwelly, 174, 194, 195

Kilgerran, 187, 220, 221

Kingsley, Charles, 109

Knighton, 56, 58, 137

Kymin, The, 245

Kyrle, John, 240-242

Lacy, Roger de, 9

Lacy, William de, 256-259

Lampeter, 221, 222

Lamphey Palace, 199, 200, 213

Landor, Walter Savage, 259

Laud, Archbishop, 271

Ledbury, 235

Leicester, Earl of, 14, 91

Leighton-under-the-Wrekin, 27

Leintwardine, 56, 58, 59

Leland, 50, 56, 70, 105, 117, 130, 133, 146, 169, 177, 181, 192, 198,
202, 211, 232, 237, 268, 272

Leofric of Mercia, 41

Leominster, 235

Letton, 234, 236

Lewis, Rev. Edward, 53, 54

Little Doward, 245

Little Stretton, 12

Liverpool Reservoir, 161

Llanaellraiarn, 112, 117

Llanbadarn Fawr, 148

Llanbedr, 119, 122, 123, 124, 125

Llanberis, Pass of, 94, 95, 105, 107, 109

Llanberis, Town, 105

Llandaff, 171-173

Llandeilo, 188, 190

Llandinam, 139

Llandogo, 265

Llandovery, 187, 222

Llandrindod Wells, 231

Llandysilio, 102

Llandyssil, 221

Llanelltyd, 126

Llanfaes, 101

Llanfair Caereinion, 133

Llanfair P. G., 100

Llanfihangel Crucorney, 255

Llanfrother, 240

Llanfyllin, 161

Llangadfan, 133

Llangadoch, 188

Llangollen, 60, 67, 70-73

Llangollen, Ladies of, 71-73

Llangurig, 139, 140, 226, 227

Llanidloes, 139

Llanrhaiadr, 159, 162

Llanrhychwyn, 90

Llanrwst, 82, 83

Llanthony, 247, 249, 255-259

Llanthony, Second Priory of, 259

Llantwit Major, 166, 173, 175, 176, 216

Llanwrtyd Wells, 222, 231

Llechryd, 221

Lledr Valley, 80, 92, 94

Llewelyn, the Great, 37, 50, 57, 82, 86, 87, 90, 91, 92, 101, 110, 113,
127, 233

Llewelyn III., 102, 106, 231

Lleyn Peninsula, 111-118

Llugwy, 82, 95

Llyfnant Valley, 150

Llyn Dinas, 110

Llyn Gwynant, 109

Llyn Mymbyr, 108

Llyn Padarn, 105

Llyn Peris, 105

Llyn Tegid (Bala), 162

Llyswen, 232

Lockhart, 72, 73, 108

Londres, Maurice de, 179, 194, 219

Longden, 55

Lucy Waters, 211

Ludford, 4

Ludlow, 4-10

Lydstep, 198

Mabinogion, 120, 167

Machynlleth, 148, 150-152, 155, 157

Maddox, Mr., 111

Madeley, 28, 29

Madoc, Prince of Powys, 70, 73, 74

Maelgwyn, 86, 106, 107, 154, 155

Maentwrog, 93, 94, 128, 129, 130

Mallwyd, 133

Malvern Hills, 245

Manorbier Castle, 197-199

Marches, Court of the, 5, 96

Margam, 180

Market Drayton, 36

Marrington Dingle, 55

Marrington Hall, 54

Marshbrook, 12, 55

Marteg, River, 227

Marten, Sir Henry, 271

Marton, 52

Mary, Queen, 6, 15, 244

Mathern, 272

Matholwch, King of Ireland, 120, 121

Matilda, Queen, 37, 257

Matthew of Westminster, 239, 264

Mawddach, River, 125, 126, 129, 152, 157, 158

Maxen Wledig, 168

Mellte, River, 183

Menai Bridge, 99

Menai Straits, 99, 102, 103

Menevia, 216

Meredyth ap Conan, 119

Merlin, 192, 216

Milburga, Princess, 39-41

Milford Haven, 200, 205, 208

Milton, 8, 138, 162

Minsterley, 56

Mochras, Point of, 124

Moel Offrwm, 127, 129

Mona, 100-102, 121

Monmouth, 243, 246-249

Monmouth, Duke of, 211

Monnington, 234, 261

Monnow, River, 261

Montfort Bridge, 61

Montfort, Simon de, 236, 237

Montgomery, 53, 54

Montgomery, Arnulph de, 201

Montgomery, Roger de, 13, 20, 23, 40, 41

Morfa Nevin, 114

Morfa Rhuddlan, 84

Mortimer, Edmund, 116, 122

Much Birch, 240

Much Wenlock, 39-42

Mumbles, The, 180

Murchard, Prince of Leinster, 215

Myddleton, Sir Thomas, 69

Myfanwy, Princess, 71, 74

Mynach, River, 141, 142

Mytton, General, 89

Nannau, 127, 128

Nant Ffrancon, 94, 95, 97

Nantgarw, 170

Nant Gwynant, 94, 95, 109

Naseby, Battle of, 250

Neath, 173, 181, 182

Neath, River, 181, 182

Neath, Vale of, 182, 183

Nelson, Lord, 193

Nennius, 191

Nest, Princess, 202

Neuf-Marché, Bernard de, 185-187

Nevern, 218

Nevin, 112, 114, 115

Newbridge, 230

Newcastle Emlyn, 221

Newgale, 211

Newport, Mon., 166, 168, 169

Newport, Pembroke, 218

Newport, Salop, 36

Newtown, 138, 225

Nôn, 216

Northumberland, Earl of, 85, 116

Oakengates, 33

Offa, 69, 238, 239

Offa’s Dyke, 69, 267

Ogwen, Lake, 96, 97

Ogwen, River, 98

Onibury, 10

Onny, River, 10

Oswestry, 62

Oteley, 51

Overton, 45, 49

Owen Gwynedd, 68, 99, 195, 219

Owen’s Mount, 78

Pant-y-Groes, 73

Parkend, 263

Payer, Colonel, 203

Pembroke, 200-203

Pembrokeshire, Coast of, 204

Penmaenmawr, 100

Pennal, 153

Pennant, 97, 117, 160

Penrhyn Castle, 98

Penrhyndeudraeth, 94

Penrhyn Quarries, 98

Pentre Voelas, 80, 92

Pen-y-Groes, 118

Pen-y-Gwryd, 108, 109

Percy, Bishop, 44

Perrot, Sir John, 206

Peverels of the Peak, 63, 64

Piercefield Park, 267

Pistyll-y-Rhaiadr, 162

Plynlimmon, 139, 140, 222, 225

Ponsonby, Miss, 71

Pont Neath Fechan, 183

Pontrhydfendigaidmynachlogfawr, 100

Pont-y-Croes, 118

Pont-y-Cysylltau, 70

Pont-y-Pair, 82

Pope, 240, 241

Porth Clais, 216

Portmadoc, 111, 112, 118

Pumpsaint, 222

Pwllheli, 112, 113, 114, 117

Queen’s Head Inn, 62

Quendritha, Queen, 239

Raglan, 247, 249-252

Ranulph of Normandy, 237

Ratlinghope, 55

Redbrook, 265

Rhayader, 191, 227-230

Rheiddol, River, 142

Rhianedd, Marsh of, 107

Rhuddlan, 82, 83-85

Rhyl, 84, 114

Rhys, 57, 146, 194, 195, 214, 219, 220, 228

Rhys ap Thomas, 193, 205, 206, 207

Rhysgog Hill, 77

Richard II., 85, 86, 209

Richard’s Castle, 235

Ridgeway, The, 197, 199

Rivals, The, 112, 117

Robert of Normandy, 171

Robert of Rhuddlan, 86, 106

Roche Castle, 210

Roderic the Great, 188

Roman Gravels, 56

Roman Steps, 123, 130

Ross, 240-243, 246

Royal Oak, 31

Royal Oak Hotel, Bettws, 82

Royal Oak Inn, Fishguard, 218

Rupert, Prince, 15, 50

Ruskin, 73

Sabrina, 138

St. Alkmund’s, Shrewsbury, 15, 16

St. Alkmund’s, Whitchurch, 47, 48

St. Arvan’s, 267

St. Beuno, 117, 118

St. Briavel’s, 263

St. Brynach, Cross of, 218

St. Chad’s (New), Shrewsbury, 22

St. Chad’s (Old), Shrewsbury, 16, 17, 21

St. Collen’s, Llangollen, 73

St. David, 115, 117, 148, 175, 216, 240, 256

St. David’s, 115, 210, 211, 217

St. Deiniol, 99

St. Donat’s, 173, 176, 177

St. Germanus, 191

St. Illtyd, 175, 176

St. Mary’s, Shrewsbury, 16, 17, 18

St. Padarn, 148

St. Patrick, 215, 216

St. Peter’s, Carmarthen, 193

St. Samson, 176

St. Teilo, 171

St. Tewdric, 272

Scott, Sir Walter, 57, 72, 108

Scudamore, Alice, 261

Seisyllts (Cecils), 253, 254

Seithenyn, 124

Severn, 13, 25, 26, 28, 45, 61, 133, 137, 139, 226, 265, 267, 272

Siabod, Moel, 81, 93, 96

Sidney, Ambrozia, 8, 9

Sidney, Philip, 8, 18, 19, 200

Sidney, Sir Henry, 8, 19, 20

Shelley, 111, 230

Shelley, Harriet, 111, 230

Shelton Oak, 61

Shifnal, 29

Shrewsbury, 12-24, 45, 60

Shrewsbury Abbey, 13, 22-24

Shrewsbury, Battle of, 21, 43 61, 191

Shrewsbury Castle, 20, 21

Shropshire, 1-64, 134, 162

Skenfrith, 260, 262

Skirrid Fawr, 255

Snowdon, 81, 96, 100, 107, 108, 109, 122

Snowdonia, 80, 94, 100, 108, 111

Solva, 211

Southerndown, 177

Southey, 259

Speech House, 263

Spenser, 243

Stack Rocks, 204

Steele, Richard, 193

Stephen, King, 20, 37

Stokesay Castle, 10, 11

Strata Florida, 141, 145-148

Strongbow, Richard, 144, 269

Sugar Loaf Mountain, 255

Swallow Falls, 95

Swift, Dean, 47

Sycharth, 77, 78

Symond’s Yat, 226, 245, 246, 264

Talbot, 1st Earl of Shrewsbury, 48, 245, 260

Taliesin, 91, 107, 149, 175

Tal-y-Bont, 149

Tan-y-Bwlch, 94, 129

Tal-y-Llyn, 155, 158

Teify, River, 145, 219, 220, 221

Telford, 21, 28, 43, 60, 79, 97, 99

Teme, River, 4, 5, 137

Tenby, 178, 195-197

Tintern, 225, 226, 246, 247, 265-267, 272

Tintern Parva, 265

Tomen-y-Bala, 160

Tong, 29, 30

Tostig, 237

Towy, River, 187, 188

Towyn, 155, 156

Traeth Maelgwyn, 154

Traeth Mawr, 111, 118, 119

Trawscoed, 145, 148

Trawsfynydd, 129

Trecastle, 187

Trefriew, 90, 91

Tremadoc, 111, 118

Tre-Taliesin, 149

Tryfaen, 97

Tudor, Edmund, 214

Tudor, Jasper, 172

Tudor, Owen, 237

Tyn-y-Groes, 129

Tyn-y-Nant, 79

Upper Corris, 158

Upper Wye, 226

Uriconium, 25, 26

Usk, River, 166, 187, 254

Valle Crucis, 71, 73-76

Vaughan, Dean, Tomb of, 173

Vaughans of Dunraven, 178

Vernon, Dorothy, 30

Vernon, Sir Henry, 30

Vickers, Dick, 79

Vortigern, 190, 191

Vyrnwy, Lake, 161

Wales, Mid, 137-162

Wales, North, 67-134

Wales, South, 165-222

Walpole, Horace, 52

Walton, Isaac, 54

Warwick, Dowager Lady, 69

Watling Street, 33

Watt, James, 230

Wellington, 33

Welshpool, 133, 134

Wem, 45, 47

Wenlock Priory, 38-42

Westbury, 52

Whitchurch, 45, 47

Whitney, 234

Whittington, 62-64

Widemarsh, Hereford, 236

William I., 212, 268, 269

William II., 212, 215

William of Malmesbury, 15, 39, 257

Wilton, 243, 244

Windsor, Gerald de, 201, 205

Wnion, River, 126

Worcester, 2nd Earl of, 272

Worcester, 1st Marquis of, 251, 252

Worthen, 52

Wrekin, 12

Wroxeter, 25

Wyaston Leys, 245

Wye, 69, 139, 140, 222, 226, 265, 268, 272

Wye, Valley of the, 225-272

Wyndcliff, 267

Wynnes of Gwydir, 82, 89, 91, 95, 96

York, Archbishop of, 89

York, Richard Duke of, 22

Yr Eifl, 112, 117

Ysgubor-y-coed, 150

Ystradfflur, 145-148

Ystwith, River, 145

Y Wyddfa, 107

UNWIN BROTHERS, LIMITED, PRINTERS, WOKING AND LONDON.

FOOTNOTES:

[1] Latin inscription on the wall that used to surround the tree.--DUKE’S VERSION.

[2] Since these words were written there have been extensive excavations at Haughmond, by which important disclosures have been made.

[3] Transactions of the Archæological Society of Shropshire.

[4] Transactions of the Archæological Society of Shropshire.

[5] _Gentleman’s Magazine_, August, 1906.

[6] “The History of Fulk Fitz-Warine,” translated by Alice Kemp-Welch.

[7] I have seen somewhere that the original name of these falls was not Rhaiadr y Wennol, or Swallow Falls, but Rhaiadr Eweynol, or Foaming Falls. This seems probable: but Borrow accepted the former version, and he was a stern critic in such matters.

[8] Quotations from the “Mabinogion” are from Lady Charlotte Guest’s translation.

[9] _Sic._

[10] “The Book of South Wales,” by the Rev. S. Baring-Gould.

[11] “The March and Borderland of Wales,” by A. G. Bradley.

[12] Rev. S. Baring-Gould, “The Book of South Wales.”

[13] “The Norman Horse-shoe” (Sir Walter Scott.)

* * * * * *

Transcriber's note:

Every effort has been made to replicate this text as faithfully as possible, including some inconsistencies in hyphenation. Some minor corrections of spelling have been made.