CHAPTER XIV. ABER, PENMAEN MAWR, CONWAY, LLANRWst, &c. 'WHERE'ER we gaze, around, above, below, Beneath, the distant torrent's rushing sound Tells where the volumed cataract doth roll, Between those hanging rocks, that shock yet please the soul.' AFTER visiting with a garrulous cicerone the few curiosities of Beaumaris, which I shall not now pause to describe, I proceeded towards the ferry. The place of embarkation, which lies near the town, is a point of land anciently denominated Penrhyn Safnes, but afterwards 'Osmund's Air,' from a malefactor there executed, and who, on his way to the fatal spot, jocosely observed he was only going to take the air. Among the passengers in the ferry boat, was a drover, proceeding on business to Aber. This man was, in his way, a great traveller; he had been at Liverpool, Birmingham, and Manchester; and first and last had had great dealings with the Saxons over the border; yet his Sasnag was not over abundant. In fact, he spoke a jargon in comparison with which the Doric of the Highlands might be regarded as clear and intelligible. Though a pig-drover, he was a great patriot; that is, he thought everything Welsh superior to whatever of similar kind could be found in any other country. In his opinion there was no good ale on the wrong side of the Dee; the very pigs, he averred, were in England more scraggy and long-legged than in Cymry; and, looking with an arch grin at Penmaen Mawr, which towered magnificently |