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contrive to get upon it from the frightfully steep northern bank；
and snatch a fearful joy； as； whilst lying on their bellies； they
poke their heads over its sides worn by age； without parapet to
prevent them from falling into the horrid gulf below。 But from the
steps in the hollow the view of the Devil's Bridge； and likewise of
the cleft； is very slight and unsatisfactory。 To view it properly；
and the wonders connected with it； you must pass over the bridge
above it； and descend a precipitous dingle on the eastern side till
you come to a small platform in a crag。 Below you now is a
frightful cavity； at the bottom of which the waters of the Monks'
River； which comes tumbling from a glen to the east； whirl； boil；
and hiss in a horrid pot or cauldron； called in the language of the
country Twll yn y graig； or the hole in the rock； in a manner truly
tremendous。 On your right is a slit； probably caused by volcanic
force； through which the waters after whirling in the cauldron
eventually escape。 The slit is wonderfully narrow； considering its
altitude which is very great … considerably upwards of a hundred
feet。 Nearly above you； crossing the slit； which is partially
wrapt in darkness； is the far…famed bridge； the Bridge of the Evil
Man； a work which； though crumbling and darkly grey； does much
honour to the hand which built it； whether it was the hand of Satan
or of a monkish architect； for the arch is chaste and beautiful；
far superior in every respect； except in safety and utility； to the
one above it； which from this place you have not the mortification
of seeing。 Gaze on these objects； namely； the horrid seething pot
or cauldron； the gloomy volcanic slit； and the spectral； shadowy
Devil's Bridge for about three minutes； allowing a minute to each；
then scramble up the bank and repair to your inn； and have no more
sight…seeing that day； for you have seen enough。 And if pleasant
recollections do not haunt you through life of the noble falls and
the beautiful wooded dingles to the west of the bridge of the Evil
One； and awful and mysterious ones of the monks' boiling cauldron；
the long； savage； shadowy cleft； and the grey； crumbling； spectral
bridge； I say boldly that you must be a very unpoetical person
indeed。
CHAPTER LXXXV
Dinner at the Hospice … Evening Gossip … A Day of Rain … A Scanty
Flock … The Bridge of the Minister … Legs in Danger。
I DINED in a parlour of the inn commanding an excellent view of the
hollow and the Rheidol fall。 Shortly after I had dined； a fierce
storm of rain and wind came on。 It lasted for an hour； and then
everything again became calm。 Just before evening was closing in I
took a stroll to a village which stands a little way to the west of
the inn。 It consists only of a few ruinous edifices； and is
chiefly inhabited by miners and their families。 I saw no men； but
plenty of women and children。 Seeing a knot of women and girls
chatting I went up and addressed them。 Some of the girls were very
good…looking； none of the party had any English； all of them were
very civil。 I first talked to them about religion； and found that；
without a single exception； they were Calvinistic…Methodists。 I
next talked to them about the Plant de Bat。 They laughed heartily
at the first mention of their name； but seemed to know very little
about their history。 After some twenty minutes' discourse I bade
them good…night and returned to my inn。
The night was very cold； the people of the house； however； made up
for me a roaring fire of turf； and I felt very comfortable。 About
ten o'clock I went to bed； intending next morning to go and see
Plynlimmon； which I had left behind me on entering Cardiganshire。
When the morning came； however； I saw at once that I had entered
upon a day by no means adapted for excursions of any considerable
length； for it rained terribly； but this gave me very little
concern； my time was my own； and I said to myself： 〃If I can't go
to…day I can perhaps go to…morrow。〃 After breakfast I passed some
hours in a manner by no means disagreeable； sometimes meditating
before my turf fire； with my eyes fixed upon it； and sometimes
sitting by the window； with my eyes fixed upon the cascade of the
Rheidol； which was every moment becoming more magnificent。 At
length about twelve o'clock； fearing that if I stayed within I
should lose my appetite for dinner； which has always been one of
the greatest of my enjoyments； I determined to go and see the
Minister's Bridge which my friend the old mining captain had spoken
to me about。 I knew that I should get a wetting by doing so； for
the weather still continued very bad； but I don't care much for a
wetting provided I have a good roof； a good fire； and good fare to
betake myself to afterwards。
So I set out。 As I passed over the bridge of the Mynach River I
looked down over the eastern balustrade。 The Bridge of the Evil
One； which is just below it； was quite invisible。 I could see；
however； the pot or crochan distinctly enough； and a horrible sight
it presented。 The waters were whirling round in a manner to
describe which any word but frenzied would be utterly powerless。
Half…an…hour's walking brought me to the little village through
which I had passed the day before。 Going up to a house I knocked
at the door； and a middle…aged man opening it； I asked him the way
to the Bridge of the Minister。 He pointed to the little chapel to
the west； and said that the way lay past it； adding that he would
go with me himself； as he wanted to go to the hills on the other
side to see his sheep。
We got presently into discourse。 He at first talked broken
English； but soon began to speak his native language。 I asked him
if the chapel belonged to the Methodists。
〃It is not a chapel；〃 said he； 〃it is a church。〃
〃Do many come to it？〃 said I。
〃Not many； sir； for the Methodists are very powerful here。 Not
more than forty or fifty come。〃
〃Do you belong to the Church？〃 said I。
〃I do； sir … thank God！〃
〃You may well be thankful；〃 said I； 〃for it is a great privilege to
belong to the Church of England。〃
〃It is so； sir；〃 said the man； 'though few； alas！ think so。〃
I found him a highly…intelligent person。 On my talking to him
about the name of the place； he said that some called it Spytty
Cynfyn； and others Spytty Cynwyl； and that both Cynwyl and Cynfyn
were the names of people； to one or other of which the place was
dedicated； and that； like the place farther on called Spytty
Ystwyth； it was in the old time a hospital or inn for the
convenience of the pilgrims going to the great monastery of Ystrad
Flur or Strata Florida。
Passing through a field or two we came to the side of a very deep
ravine； down which there was a zigzag path leading to the bridge。
The path was very steep； and； owing to the rain； exceedingly
slippery。 For some way it led through a grove of dwarf oaks； by
grasping the branches of which I was enabled to support myself
tolerably well； nearly at the bottom； however； where the path was
most precipitous； the tre