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the labyrinth of rooms, many of which are singularly interesting besides those named, let us thank our kind guide, Mr. Burnham, for showing us over this curious relic of olden days; pass by the stables, now desolate and deserted, cross the solemn avenue which leads up to the house, and visit the singular and solitary old church. It is a small but curious old place, with a double-vaulted ceiling, on one part of which is painted a representation of 'Day,' and on the other of Night,' with clouds and constellations in abundance. Several banners mouldering away remain to tell the tale of Compton loyalty and the troublous days of the Civil War; some mouldy hatchments mark the death and the achievements' of the family; and several much-broken monumental effigies tell the story of the attack in 1646, when, as Dugdale says, the monuments of Sir W. Compton and his lady, and of their grandson, Lord Henry, 'which were very beautiful and stately, were then utterly razed and knockt in pieces;' and that as he was not so happy as to take notice of them while they stood, he was obliged to content himself with copying the Compton window in Balliol College, Oxford, as a memorial of the founder of this House.' The little footpath, long deserted, which leads from the church porch to the hall gate, will ere long be trodden, doubtless, by the family again, as the present Marquis has rescued the place from its slow decay and destruction, and preserved the building, while he has to some extent destroyed the solemn, mournful interest of this long-deserted hall and park."

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HOW WE CLOMB THE GREAT ORME'S HEAD.

MANY times, in sailing from Liverpool to Menai and back, had we gazed with delight on the two hills which bear respectively the names of the Great and Little Orme's Head. As the vessel passed by, we looked, with the hope of one day climbing their green sides, of gazing on the sea from those two beautiful projecting headlands, and of watching the tide's ebb and flow, and listening to the Ocean's thunder-hymn, from the beautiful bay of Llandudno. We had passed these objects of our desire when the sea was calm as a lake, not a ripple upon its waters, while the gorgeous summer sun was making glad the glorious mirror that reflected his beams. We had passed them when the fierce winds lashed the waves into billows, which madly rolled against their precipitous and rocky sides, covering them with foam, and falling back only to make a more boisterous and terrible attack on these strongholds of the earth, again to fall impotently into the mass of foaming and raging waters. We had stood on deck, covered with the spray which the winds bore on their wings over the vessel's side, and watched the waves roll into that pleasant little bay, as if they would have

found joy in swallowing the village that calmly reposed on the hills and steep places around it. We had passed them in the quiet even-time, when the rich glory of the setting sun gave earth and ocean its own unequalled hues of loveliness and grace. In the still night-time, when alternate clouds and moon gave a variety of adornments to the whole, had we gazed upon those hills, and longed, with the intensity of ramblers, to climb their heights, and look upon the waves over which we were then sailing from their attractive summits. In all times, and in all moods, had we beheld them; and in our heart of hearts registered a vow, that some day or other we would have a ramble over the Great Orme's Head.

Late in a beautiful autumn the opportunity so long desired came, and, with a joyous heart, we seized it, to fulfil our long made promise. We had been making a coast journey through North Wales, and arrived late at night in the famous old town of Conway. Conway was well known to us; we had visited its pleasant places, rambled over every spot of its ruined castle, been over and through its wonderful bridges, gathered weeds and shells round its bay; but now we had another object in view, and, late as it was, we resolved not to spend the night in Conway. We made several vain attempts to get a conveyance to Llandudno. All the hotels were desirous of keeping us, and threw obstacles in our way. Messengers were dispatched from one hotel to another, but all refused a carriage. At this, the driver was gone to

bed, or not to be found; at another, the horses had been engaged all day, and were too much fatigued to

stand any more work till fabulous sum was asked.

morning; at a third, a There were six of us,

including ladies; so that the hosts thought the detaining us worth an attempt. At last, tired out with our vain efforts to obtain the means for riding, we quietly informed our would-be entertainers that, as they could not let us have horses, we should walk, and set off to carry out the intention. We had not reached the Suspension Bridge, however, before a man came running in breathless eagerness to tell us he would take us. The preliminaries were now quickly arranged, and in a few minutes we were seated behind two very fine horses, and were rumbling over the bridge on our way to Llandudno.

The distance is only about four miles; but the glory of that ride none of us will ever forget. The moon was high in the heavens, round as young Norval's shield, and the tide was high in the bay; the carriage-road crossed the bay, and, immediately after we had left the bridge, the horses were above their knees in the water. On they gallopped at a furious rate, churning the waves into foam, and dashing it over the carriage, to the dread of some of its inmates. The driver, who was not in the best of humours at his late ride, whipped away at the horses, and we were in no vein to bid him spare; so on they gallopped with splendid spirit, breaking up the moonlight-reflecting waves into myriads of beautiful tints and pictures of curious beauty. After leaving

the bay, the road is up and down in steep declivities, and frequently makes most abrupt turnings; along them all the horses were hurried at their utmost speed, regardless of the entreaties of the timid fair ones, whose nerves were somewhat deranged by such a rough journey; but the driver knew so little English, or thought that a good fright was but a meet reward for those who had thus unceremoniously disturbed his repose, that he still whipped on, and the horses still dashed along with undiminished speed. And thus, after a very short time, we rattled up the stony streets of Llandudno, and heard the pleasant singing of the waters of the bay sound our welcome as we leaped out of the carriage, and dismissed the driver with a recognition which turned his sorry looks into a cheery smile, and his rough voice into a hearty, good-humoured, "Thank you.”

Llandudno is situated on the south-east side of the Great Orme's Head, and is one of the pleasantest watering-places in the country. Besides its rambles, which are many and beautiful, and the many retired bathingplaces which it affords, besides the hills which we are now about to climb, the walk from Llandudno to Conway along the waters of the bay, is one of the most delightful that can be imagined. Several times, ere we left the place, did we walk to and from Conway along the ordinary road, and once round the bay; and dearer or pleasanter rambles we have not often had. Let no one ever visit Llandudno without

going to Conway by the sea coast.

Next morning we made our ascent. The rock,

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