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beauty； and the dull grey sky characteristic of November began to
prevail。 The way lay up a hill to the south…east； on my left was a
glen down which the river of the Monk rolled with noise and foam。
The country soon became naked and dreary； and continued so for some
miles。 At length； coming to the top of a hill； I saw a park before
me； through which the road led after passing under a stately
gateway。 I had reached the confines of the domain of Hafod。
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； the monument； which was indeed worthy of
notice； and which； had Chantrey executed nothing else； might well
have entitled him to be considered； what the world has long
pronounced him； the prince of British sculptors。
This monument； which is of the purest marble； is placed on the
eastern side of the church； below a window of stained glass； and
represents a truly affecting scene： a lady and gentleman are
standing over a dying girl of angelic beauty； who is extended on a
couch； and from whose hand a volume； the Book of Life； is falling。
The lady is weeping。
Beneath is the following inscription …
To the Memory of
MARY
The only child of THOMAS and JANE JOHNES
Who died in 1811
After a few days' sickness
This monument is dedicated
By her parents。
An inscription worthy； by its simplicity and pathos； to stand below
such a monument。
After presenting a trifle to the woman； who； to my great surprise；
could not speak a word of English； I left the church； and descended
the side of the hill； near the top of which it stands。 The scenery
was exceedingly beautiful。 Below me was a bright green valley； at
the bottom of which the Ystwyth ran brawling； now hid amongst
groves； now showing a long stretch of water。 Beyond the river to
the east was a noble mountain； richly wooded。 The Ystwyth； after a
circuitous course； joins the Rheidol near the strand of the Irish
Channel； which the united rivers enter at a place called Aber
Ystwyth； where stands a lovely town of the same name； which sprang
up under the protection of a baronial castle； still proud and
commanding even in its ruins； built by Strongbow； the conqueror of
the great western isle。 Near the lower part of the valley the road
tended to the south； up and down through woods and bowers； the
scenery still ever increasing in beauty。 At length； after passing
through a gate and turning round a sharp corner； I suddenly beheld
Hafod on my right hand； to the west at a little distance above me；
on a rising ground； with a noble range of mountains behind it。
A truly fairy place it looked； beautiful but fantastic； in the
building of which three styles of architecture seemed to have been
employed。 At the southern end was a Gothic tower； at the northern
an Indian pagoda； the middle part had much the appearance of a
Grecian villa。 The walls were of resplendent whiteness； and the
windows； which were numerous； shone with beautiful gilding。 Such
was modern Hafod； a strange contrast； no doubt； to the hunting
lodge of old。
After gazing at this house of eccentric taste for about a quarter
of an hour； sometimes with admiration； sometimes with a strong
disposition to laugh； I followed the road； which led past the house
in nearly a southerly direction。 Presently the valley became more
narrow； and continued narrowing till there was little more room
than was required for the road and the river； which ran deep below
it on the left…hand side。 Presently I came to a gate； the boundary
in the direction in which I was going of the Hafod domain。
Here； when about to leave Hafod； I shall devote a few lines to a
remarkable man whose name should be ever associated with the place。
Edward Lhuyd was born in the vicinity of Hafod about the period of
the Restoration。 His father was a clergyman； who after giving him
an excellent education at home sent him to Oxford； at which seat of
learning he obtained an honourable degree； officiated for several
years as tutor； and was eventually made custodiary of the Ashmolean
Museum。 From his early youth he devoted himself with indefatigable
zeal to the acquisition of learning。 He was fond of natural
history and British antiquities； but his favourite pursuit； and
that in which he principally distinguished himself； was the study
of the Celtic dialects； and it is but doing justice to his memory
to say； that he was not only the best Celtic scholar of his time；
but that no one has arisen since worthy to be considered his equal
in Celtic erudition。 Partly at the expense of the university；
partly at that of various powerful individuals who patronized him；
he travelled through Ireland； the Wester