We entered this valley by a pass called Nant y Glo or the ravine of the coal, and passing a lake on our left, on which I observed a solitary corracle, with a fisherman in it, were presently at the village.

Here we got down at a small inn, and having engaged a young lad to serve as guide, I set out with Henrietta to ascend the hill, my wife remaining behind, not deeming herself sufficiently strong to encounter the fatigue of the expedition.
Pointing with my finger to the head of Snowdon towering a long way from us in the direction of the east, I said to Henrietta:-- "Dacw Eryri, yonder is Snowdon.

Let us try to get to the top.

The Welsh have a proverb: 'It is easy to say yonder is Snowdon; but not so easy to ascend it.' Therefore I would advise you to brace up your nerves and sinews for the attempt." We then commenced the ascent, arm-in-arm, followed by the lad, I singing at the stretch of my voice a celebrated Welsh stanza, in which the proverb about Snowdon is given, embellished with a fine moral, and which may thus be rendered:-- "Easy to say, 'Behold Eryri,' But difficult to reach its head; Easy for him whose hopes are cheery To bid the wretch be comforted." We were far from being the only visitors to the hill this day; groups of people, or single individuals, might be seen going up or descending the path as far as the eye could reach.

The path was remarkably good, and for some way the ascent was anything but steep.