Returning to the road I proceeded on my journey. I passed over
Pont y Rhanedd or the bridge of the Rhanedd, a small river flowing
through a dale, then by Clas Hywel, a lofty mountain which appeared
to have three heads. After walking for some miles I came to where
the road divided into two. By a sign-post I saw that both led to
Llandovery, one by Porth y Rhyd and the other by Llanwrda. The
distance by the first was six miles and a half, by the latter eight
and a half. Feeling quite the reverse of tired I chose the longest
road, namely the one by Llanwrda, along which I sped at a great
rate.
In a little time I found myself in the heart of a romantic winding
dell, overhung with trees of various kinds, which a tall man whom I
met told me was called Cwm Dwr Llanwrda, or the Watery Coom of
Llanwrda; and well might it be called the Watery Coom, for there
were several bridges in it, two within a few hundred yards of each
other. The same man told me that the war was going on very badly,
that our soldiers were suffering much, and that the snow was two
feet deep at Sebastopol.
Passing through Llanwrda, a pretty village with a singular-looking
church, close to which stood an enormous yew, I entered a valley
which I learned was the valley of the Towey.
