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120 THE CAMBRIAN REMEMBRANCER. SEPTEMBER, 1879. spot and came to Aberystwyth to see the house !" If Shenkin ap Shon had committed that folly, how the English would have laughed. As it is, I give them this hint gratis. John Pugh. Colwyn Bay.—To an old stager like myself, who has done the journey between Chester and Bangor, a hundred times by coach, the change in the aspect of Colwyn is something marvellous. I well remem¬ ber how glorious the Bay looked from the summit of Llanddulas hill in 183a, and how when we descended to the flat, there was nothing there to call for special attention, but Pwllycrochon and the noble wood surrounding it. Now the Bay is the resort of pleasure seekers from all part of England, and Colwyn itself is studded with handsome residences and is crowded by a growing population of both young and oli I happened to be there with the late Dr Owen Owen -Roberts, of Bangor, when the first f fast train" emerged through the tunnel into the day light; a simple minded Welshman chanced to be there at the same time, looking at the train as it rushed by, with staring eyes, and open mouth, Dr Koberts turned to him and said, " Beth ydych i'n meddwl am y peth yna, Shon Shones ?" The poor creature turned upon him and putting up his hands exclaimed, "Dear anwyl! wel dyna'r peth tebyca i Ddiaiul c£m opio i a welais i erioed." We turned away laughing, and Dr. Roberts said to me he never heard a truer or fitter answer given to a pointed question before. Many years afterwards I was spending a day at Colwyn with the late Mr Binger, who told me he remembered seeing a train load of Lancashire folk passing through the Station on their way to Llandudno; the tide was at its highest point then, and the expanse of water in the Bay was magnificent. Some hours later the same good people were at Colwyn on their way home, but the tide had then receded, and there was a long stretch of land between the railway and the sea. They were utterly astonished at the change, and rushing out of the train they expressed their wonderment in true Lancashire fashion. Mr Binger seeing that each passenger carried a can in his hand, rightly concluded they had filled them with sea water at Llandudno, and being bent upon having Ms joke out of them, he said, " Why, what can you be thinking of, when you yourselves have emptied that Bay, by filling your cans with water at Llandudno. You surely cannot expect the bay to remain full of water after that." A thousand voices exclaimed on the instant, " Dos't hear that?" And in their desire to see the land covered again, the simple creatures, emptied their cans forthwith, only to find they had been fool'd. There was a very ugly rush towards the spot where Mr Binger had stood; but be had wisely made him¬ self scarce, or it might have been recorded in the newspapers that he had been lynch'd on the spot by the " Gafies" who had been so well sold. But .Welshmen of this day heed not the passing trams, and cheap trippers from Lancashire are as well up fii the mysteries of the tides, as if they had been born and bred upon the sea shore. The march of intellect has been both rapid and expansive, but not more so than the growth of this rising and beautiful sea side resort. Who can predict its state fifty years hence ? It needs no great stretch of imagination to see it joined to Llandudno, and a long marine drive constructed from the Great Orme's Head to, and even beyond the Colwyn Tunnel; the resort of tens of thousands of people now unborn. That would not be a greater change than 1 myself have wit¬ nessed in the district, and when it comes to pass, there will be none of us left to tell how d'fferent a spot it is, from the peaceful and sweet Colwyn of 1835. One generation passeth away, and with it the reality of the present ; another comes, and that has to give place to yet another, but the beauties of the mountains, and the marvels of the deep will re¬ main for ever to witness to all men, how unchange¬ able are His Works who ruleth and guides them all. A Cambrian. SEPTEMBER 20th, 1879. NOTES. Some Cambrian Remembrances.—Ah me! how the " old things'' do crop up, when an old man pays a hasty visit to the home of his childhood after years of enforced absence from it. It is a long and dreary walk enough from Connah's Q iay Station, on the Chester and Holyhead Railway, to Basingwerk Abbey, near Holywell, but I can remember the time when it was pleasant ard agreeable, for at every step you met a friend who had a cheery word for you, and occasionally a learned one, who well up in the ancient lore of the country. How freshly comes back to my recollection a wintry evening, in the year 1832, when I sat upon a fallen tree close to Kelsterton, listening to Ned Jones relating to me the history of— Bwgan Kelstrin, a wicked waif that troubled the neighbourhood once a year,with his wails and vain regrets for having murdered his sweetheart in the dingle near the celebrated brewery, at that time the property of Mr Thomas Bate, a fine old gentleman who had migrated from Lancashire to that new home, and had founded a family there, of whom his namesake and grandsow Thomas Bate is now thehead. The story ran in this wise :—A young Englishman had been paying his addresses to a sweet Welsh lass, and held true to his troth for many a long day, but in an evil hour he fell in love with another girl, and td make his paths pleasant to him with the new love, he wickedly determined to kill the old one. It was a long struggle between the devil and conscience, but a strong potation of the usual mixtures used in such emergencies at last brought the animal courage up to the sticking point, and one dark night in October the villain lured his love to the river side and drowned her. Quick remorse followed the dreadful deed, and