principally a headquarters for fishing parties and local "trippers." And
yet at this dilapidated old inn there were a number of guests who made
great pretensions at style. Women "dressed for dinner" in low-necked
gowns with long trains; and the men attired themselves in dress-suits of
various degrees of antiquity.

While we were marooned here we visited Vale Crucis Abbey, about a mile
distant. The custodian was absent, or in any event could not be aroused
by vigorously ringing the cowbell suspended above the gate, and we had
to content ourselves with a very unsatisfactory view of the ruin over
the stone wall that enclosed it. The environments of Llangollen are
charming in a high degree. The flower-bordered lanes lead past cottages
and farm houses surrounded by low stone walls and half hidden by
brilliantly colored creepers. Bits of woodland are interspersed with
bright green sheep pastures and high, almost mountainous, bluffs
overhang the valley. On the very summit of one of these is perched a
ruined castle, whose inaccessible position discouraged nearer
acquaintance.

The country around Llangollen was beautiful, but the memory of the hotel
leaves a blight over all. We were happy indeed when our motor started
off again with the steady, powerful hum that so delights the soul of the
driver, and it seemed fairly to tremble with impatience to make up for
its enforced inaction. Though it was eight o'clock in the evening, it
was anything to get away from Llangollen, and we left with a view of
stopping for the night at Bettws-y-Coed, about thirty miles away.

With our motor car racing like mad over the fine highway--there was no
danger of police traps at that hour--we did not stop to inquire about
the dog that went under the wheels in the first village we passed.