* * * * *
For dinner we had salmon and leg of mutton; the salmon from the Dee, the
leg from the neighbouring Berwyn. The salmon was good enough, but I had
eaten better; and here it will not be amiss to say, that the best salmon
in the world is caught in the Suir, a river that flows past the beautiful
town of Clonmel in Ireland. As for the leg of mutton it was truly
wonderful; nothing so good had I ever tasted in the shape of a leg of
mutton. The leg of mutton of Wales beats the leg of mutton of any other
country, and I had never tasted a Welsh leg of mutton before. Certainly
I shall never forget that first Welsh leg of mutton which I tasted, rich
but delicate, replete with juices derived from the aromatic herbs of the
noble Berwyn, cooked to a turn, and weighing just four pounds.
* * * * *
Came to Tregeiriog, a small village, which takes its name from the brook;
Tregeiriog signifying the hamlet or village on the Ceiriog. Seeing a
bridge which crossed the rivulet at a slight distance from the road, a
little beyond the village, I turned aside to look at it. The proper
course of the Ceiriog is from south to north; where it is crossed by the
bridge, however, it runs from west to east, returning to its usual
course, a little way below the bridge. The bridge was small and
presented nothing remarkable in itself: I obtained, however, as I looked
over its parapet towards the west a view of a scene, not of wild
grandeur, but of something which I like better, which richly compensated
me for the slight trouble I had taken in stepping aside to visit the
little bridge.
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