The narrative of the uncommon adventures of Don Pedro de Mentiroso, a Portuguese gentleman, with whom the author accidentally met, detailed in the XVIIIth Chapter, is extremely pathetic and well told ;-it is followed by slight biographical sketches of the sovereigns of Portugal, and a regal table, which conclude the volume.

A map and 15 other plates contribute to the embellishment of this work; which, to other recommendations, adds that of the greatest weight in similar productions, the merited praise of candour and authenticity. It contains, indeed, a large portion of curious and entertaining matter; of which we have been able to give but few and slight specimens: but we strongly recommend the whole to general perusal.-The style of Mr. Murphy would bear some correction, in respect to accuracy and elegance.

ART. II. A Walk through Wales in August 1797. By the Rev. Richard Warner, of Bath. 8vo. pp. 236. 6s. Boards. Dilly. 1798.

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FEW years since, a German Professor published an account of his pedestrian tour through England, the amusement to be derived from which work arose chiefly from his unintentionally droll remarks on common customs and circumstances. The principality of Wales, indeed, has offered inducements to travellers of as various descriptions as those that are so pleasantly given by Sterne in his preface to his "Sentimental Journey;" many of whom have favoured, and some wearied, the public: but A Walk through Wales, in pursuit of antiquities, of the picturesque, or of national character, may excite curiosity, as probably affording opportunity, or leisure, which those who attend to a more comfortable mode of travelling have neither sought nor employed. A journal of this kind solicited the public attention some time ago, and another now demands our notice.

Dall&G.2.

This "long walk" was extended to 469 miles, in eighteen successive days, and may be averaged at 25 miles in each day; none, therefore, but the inveterately indolent will deny the author credit for exertion; and some of those may say -non equi dem invidio, miror magis.

Many of the incidents here detailed are such as might naturally occur with peasants of either sex and innkeepers, under similar predicaments, in any of the distant provinces; and of those towns and castles which Mr. W. passed, the antiquities

*See Rev. vol. xxiii. p. 386.

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have been so minutely described by Pennant, Grose, and Wyndham, that little more was necessary than to abridge their contents, and to clothe them in an epistolary dress. This has been done with a pleasing degree of neatness; and the occasional sentiments arising from various little incidents do credit to the general cast of benevolence which is conspicuous in these pages.

The subsequent extract will exemplify the author's manner :

We passed through the small and neat town of Bualt, or Builth, without halting, as it contains nothing that deserves particular attention. Like the other towns of Wales, it was anciently protected by a castle; but of this it may be said—etiam periêre ruina-for the scite of the keep, or dongeon, is the only notification of its former existence. Here we first met with the celebrated river Wye, on the banks of which the town is built. This beautiful, meandring stream, the theme of poets, and the fruitful subject of tourists, bursting from the top of the mountain Plimhimmon in Montgomeryshire, pursues its capricious and sinuous course through Radnorshire, Brecknockshire, Herefordshire, Monmouthshire, and Glocestershire; and after receiving numberless tributary streams, and exhibiting the richest variety of picturesque scenery in a track of two hundred and eighty miles, empties itself into the Severn a little below the town of Chepstow. The bridge thrown over this river to the north end of Builth, defines the limits of two counties, the one half of it being in Brecknockshire, and the other in Radnorshire. Leaving this on our left, we pursued the road to Rhaiddar, which runs over the hill to the eastward of the river. We had not proceeded more than a mile, before the scenery of the Wye became too interesting to be passed with transient observation; we therefore threw ourselves on its eastern bank under the shade of a friendly aspin tree, to contemplate its beauties at leisure. At this spot the view is particularly striking. The river appears at our feet, dashing and roaring through a bed of huge, misshapen rocks, and forming, in its struggles, numberless whirlpools, eddies, and small cascades. A bank, rude, abrupt, and bare, rises before us, pleasingly contrasted by the verdant and wooded declivity opposite to it. As the eye roves up the river, it catches softer beauties; the sides become less precipitous, and more thickly clothed with trees. The woods at length descend to the brink of the stream, which, making a quick turn at the distance of a mile, is suddenly lost in a deep mass of shade. The back ground is formed by the mountains of Montgomeryshire, whose lofty summits rise into the clouds, and give a magnificent finishing to the scene. It was not without regret that we quitted this spot to pursue our walk, admonished by the consideration of our having sixteen miles further to go, and the sun being within two hours of the place of his rest." In truth, we soon discovered that we had already been too dilatory; the day beginning to close, attended with no very agreeable circumstances. It was an evening of Ossian; and the scenery around rendered his description very appropriate. "Autumn is dark on the mountains; grey mist rests on the hills. The whirlwind is heard on the heath,

Dark

of

Dark rolls the river through the narrow plain." In proportion as the light of day faded from us, the roads became more rocky, unequal, and abominable. A considerable quantity of rain had fallen a few hours before, which filling up the numberless inequalities with which these stony ways abound, we continually plunged into pools of mud, and stumbled over rocky fragments, alternately hazarding the pains of suffocation, and the fracture of our limbs. This very agreeable amusement continued till half past nine o'clock, when we were blessed with the sight of a rush-light glimmering through the window of the Angel inn, which we entered about two hours ago. Our first appearance was made in the kitchen, where a scene was exhibited that would have afforded an admirable subject for the pencil of Hogarth. A large table covered with rounds of beef, loins of pork, fragments geese, &c. &c. appeared at one end, round which was seated a motely groupe of noisy Welsh rustics, who voraciously devoured the good things before them. Opposite to these were two Scotch pedlars, eating their frugal repast in silence, an oaten cake, and rocklike cheese, and diluting it with "acid tiff;" their eyes rivetted in wistful gaze, on the substantial fare which smoked on the adjoining table. The middle of the kitchen was occupied by a number of sportsmen just returned from growse-shooting on the mountains, cleaning their guns, and preparing them for the morrow's amusement. In the back ground flamed an enormous fire, where a counterpart of dame Leonarda was preparing another set of joints, for a second party of sportsmen who were just arrived. Tired pointers and snoring spaniels were scattered over the floor, and completed the picture. Notwithstanding the disadvantageous figure we made, (for to confess the truth we were marvellously foul) and the numerous guests who called on the mistress of the house in all directions, we met with an attention and civility from Mrs. Evans (the hostess) that will always claim our grateful remembrance. We were shewn into a snug little room, and speedily regaled with a sumptuous supper.' The following anecdote occurs at p. 112:

Our guide having conducted us through the intricacies of the wood, placed us in an open country, and given us directions for our progress, took his leave and returned to Llaneltyd. The day, in the mean time, was again become dark, wet, and uncomfortable, and heightened the desolation and gloom of a barren, mountainous country, in which not a single interesting object occurred, either natural or artificial, to relieve or enliven the dolorous monotony of the scene. After having consumed an hour in this way, we saw before us a soli. tary building, which appeared to be a long, low cottage. On our approach towards it, we were suddenly surprised by the notes of har

mony;

"A solemn-breathing sound

Rose like a steam of rich distil'd perfumes,
And stole upon the air; that even Silence
Was took 'ere she was 'ware, and wish'd she might
Deny her nature, and be never more,

Still to be so displac'd."

We

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We listened attentively, and were delighted with the melody, which
was as striking as unexpected. It seemed to be a religious hymn,
sung by a great number of voices, for the most part sweet and har-
monious. Solemn and simple, it was not, like our church-musie,
interrupted by pauses at the conclusion of each line and stanza, but
continued, and without a break, varied only by fine swells and
dying falls, and the regular observation of the piano and the forte.
We drew near to the building, and perceiving we occasioned no dis-
turbance, joined ourselves to the congregation. The scene was a
striking and a pleasing one. A number of people, who must have
come from far, neat in their dress, devout in their manner, were col-
Jected together in a hovel upon a barren mountain, to sing the psalm
of thanksgiving, to breathe the prayer of simplicity, and to worship
their Maker in spirit and in truth;' the pastor, an elderly man of
respectable appearance, unaffected in his manner, fervent in his peti-
tions, solemn, impressive, and energetic in his exhortations. Such
was the scene which this cottage exhibited. And neither C-
nor myself were insensible to its influence. Their divine harmony
penetrated our souls; and though unacquainted with the language in
which their thanksgivings were conveyed, we lifted up our thoughts
to heaven with a devotion of mind which we trust the Being who
knows all hearts, and who marks each secret aspiration of them for
his favour, will accept, in lieu of our customary mode of social wor
ship on this day, which we were prevented from joining in by the
circumstances of our situation. When the service was concluded,
we made some enquiries relative to the place, the preacher, and the
sect to which he belonged. Our curiosity was satisfied by the fe-
male inhabitant of a little cottage attached to one end of the chapel,
who spoke extremely good English, and exhibited a perfect pattern
of neatness and simplicity. From her we understood the hamlet was
called Penstreet, appropriated to a congregation of Presbyterians,
who assembled here every Sunday, and were instructed by the Rev.
Mr. Wm. Jones, a man of great respectability and exemplary cha-

racter.

Nothing, perhaps, can afford a stronger or more agreeable instance of that religious spirit which prevails amongst the lower orders of Welsh, than the circumstance I have just related to you;-a congregation collecting together at a chapel situated in a wild, mountainous country, and considerably distant from the nearest habitation, and that too in defiance of the rain and the wind, which had fallen and blown through all the morning with little intermission. To this religious spirit, indeed, may be attributed that humanity, courtesy, and decency, which the Welsh possess in so superior a degree to the English canaille; for it is a truth which candour and observation will readily allow, that the only foundation for good morals and decent conduct, at least amongst the lower orders, is a principle of religion, a knowledge of the duties it teaches, and a sense of their obligation to perform them, as rational and accountable beings.

We shall now extract Mr. W.'s remarks on CaernarvonCastle, in the justness of which we coincide, as being applicable to many antient edifices in this kingdom:

• The

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The castle of Caernarvon is unquestionably a fine specimen of ancient military architecture, but it does not produce those lively emotions in the mind, which edifices of this nature are apt to excite, from the circumstance of its being kept in nice repair, and inhabited. The idea of its high antiquity and ancient splendour is interrupted and destroyed by the patchwork of modern reparation, and the littlenesses of a cottager's domestic œconomy seen within its walls. Exclusive of this, it wants the fine circumstance of a mantle of ivy to relieve, and soften down the displeasing red tinge which it receives from the stone used in erecting it. Its towers are certainly very beautiful, being polygonal, and surmounted with light and elegant turrets. The great entrance is equally striking, a lofty gateway under a stupendous tower, in the front of which appears a gigantic statue of the Conqueror, grasping in his right hand a dagger. The town is neat and cheerful, and not destitute of good houses. One very large and ancient edifice attracted our attention; it is called the Plás Mawr, or great house, and appears to have been the residence of the Lord of the Manor. Two dates, in conspicuous plates, notify that it was built during the years 1590 and 1591; and, indeed, it affords a good specimen of the aukward style of architecture of that time, which was neither Gothic nor classical, but an heterogeneous mixture of both.'

We find only the questionable authority of the Roll of Battle Abbey (now determined to have been a fabrication of the Monks, long subsequently to the Conquest,) for the following assertion: Saint Scudamore, so called from the scutum amoris divini, which he took for his arms, attended William the Conqueror in his expedition into England.' P. 215. Philip de Scudamore, in the reign of King Stephen, is the first authen-· ticated ancestor of that very respectable family, which originally bore for their armorial ensigns "a cross pattee ficched at the foot." For several successive centuries, these have been substituted by "three stirrops," but at no time by an "inescocheon." The "Ser Scudamore," immortalized by Spenser in the Fairy Queen, alluded to Sir James Scudamore, who assumed, during the reign of Elizabeth, (the last auspicious æra of chivalry,) the motto which our author mentions. His por-. trait equipped for a tourney is extremely conspicuous in the Saloon at Holm Lacey in Herefordshire, although unnoticed by Mr. Warner.-As the Historian of Hampshire, he will excuse our scrupulosity on such a point.

On quitting North Wales, the author makes the following observations on the general character and manners of the people:

We have at length left North-Wales, a country which has afforded us the highest gratification. This pleasure, however, arises as much from moral considerations as from natural objects, from the contemplation of the manners and virtues of the people, as of the

magnificent