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I must speak with due respect of the memory of the late worthy vicar, Dr. Worthington; to whose hospitable house I was indebted for a seasonable reception, the wet evening which fortunately preceded my visit to Pistill Rhaiadr (sic). This celebrated cataract terminates the precipitous end of a very narrow valley, and, as it were, divides a bold front of the Berwyn mountains. After sliding for some time along a small declivity, it darts down at once two-thirds of the precipice, and, falling on a ledge, has, in the process of time, worn itself a passage through the rock, and makes a second cataract beneath a noble arch which it has formed; on the slippery summit of which, a daring shepherd will sometimes terrify you with standing. The second fall reaches the bottom, and assumes the name of the Rhaiadr, or the cascade.
The defect of this noble fall, is the want of wood. When I visited it, the approach was very bad; but that is not only effectually remedied by the late benevolent vicar, but, as I am informed, he has besides erected a cottage, as a retreat to the traveller from the fury of the storm.
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