FALLS OF THE MELTE-CWM PORTH.

257

away to the high ground, almost relieved that the deafening sound of the roaring cataracts had subsided, from the distance, into the solemn and ceaseless murmur that seems to pervade these regions.

Passing the farm house of Cilhepste-coed, I directed my steps again towards the Melte. There are three waterfalls on this river, the most distinguished is called Clungwyn, and is the highest upon the stream; its peculiar characteristic is in the great volume of water it throws over an abrupt projection, at the height of seventy feet. There is no approaching it from below, all access being closed by the rocky precipitous banks of the river, and it loses the richer beauties which belong to the falls of the Hepste, while it maintains a successful rivalry in the more awful and sublime features of the mountain cataract.

Advancing up the rich cwm of the Melte, I passed the farm of Hendre-bolon: pursuing my way again towards the stream, I reached another hollow, called Cwm Porth, in which is to be found that stupendous natural cavern, through the dark bottom of which the Melte runs for nearly four hundred yards, without in the slightest degree disturbing the incumbent surface of the land. The river rolls its dark tide beneath, and the harvest field waves above, as it has done for generations past.

The cavern of Cwm Porth is within two miles of Ystradfellte. The approach on the upper or northern part of the river is exceedingly picturesque; but the visiter is not aware of the stupendous natural aqueduct he has the opportunity of exploring until he reaches the river, when he feels the full force of its peculiar wildness and grandeur. On either side of the opening, numbers of forest and other trees, of great diversity of form and variety of foliage, grow spontaneously; even in the fissures of the bold rocks, high above the head of the spectator, large trees are seen expanding towards the sky. At the entrance, the cavern is about forty

feet wide and twenty high. There is sufficient light, on a fine day, for examining about fifty yards of this natural tunnel, when it gradually fades away into impenetrable gloom, and nothing but the blaze of a flambeau will enable the visiter to complete the inspection of this extraordinary place.

CHAPTER XVII.

TRECASTLE-BRECON CRICKHOWEL-LLANTONY.

AND oft the craggy cliff he lov'd to climb,
When all in mist the world below was lost,
What dreadful pleasure! there to stand sublime,
Like shipwreck'd mariner on desert coast,
And view the enormous waste of vapour, toss'd

In billows, lengthening to the horizon round,
Now scoop'd in gulfs, with mountains now emboss'd!
And hear the voice of mirth and song rebound,
Flocks, herds, and waterfalls, along the hoar profound!

Beattie.

THE inhabitant of one of the quiet rural districts of "merry England," whose eye has been accustomed to rest only upon the green slopes and flower-enamelled meadows of his native land, teeming with happy life and rich in verdant beauty, can form no adequate idea of the scene which is presented in a region of sterile rocks, interchanged only here and there by solitary cwms or hollows, where a scanty vegetation struggles for existence, and over which the foot of the enterprising traveller rarely treads.

The county of Brecknock, like that of its neighbour Glamorgan, presents, in many parts, the same wild features of