Welsh Journals

Reviews. IN THE HEART OF POWYSLAND. By ROBERT OWEN, F.R.H.S. Owen's Press, Welshpool, Price 5/- To an exile in the arid desert of the metropolis this little book is rare refreshment. Mr. Owen has chosen for his subject mid- Powys, the area within which "all roads lead down to Pool, or radiate therefrom into the glyns and cwms and across the moorlands of this land of enchantment." He leads us first by Mathrafel, the old princely seat, and Meifod, the mother-Church then round through Deytheur and Guilsfield to the Abbey, scene of our Club's activity over the Bridge at Buttington to the Long Mountain and so back across Severn into our little capital. Then leaving Welshpool again we pass with him westwards into the Caereinion country, up to Cann Office, and indeed beyond for strictly as Mr. Owen keeps within his self-imposed limits, having brought us thus far he cannot resist a bus- ride to Dinas Mawddwy. The book thus covers the entire central section of Montgomeryshire; from the Great European Plain, which starts at the foot of Moel y Garth," to the bleak moorland" where three goodly commotes meet." Where else in so small an area can we find such variety, such wealth of unspoilt beauty ? And the book is worthy of the land it describes. The writing must have been as much joy for Mr. Owen as the reading is for us. Into its all-too-narrow compass he has distilled a lifetime of loving sympathy and patient study. The happy little phrases-" jewels five words long with which he characterises our scenery flow so easily from his pen and so vividly recall to us the reality that we are apt to overlook the perfect understanding of his subject which has produced them. The legendary and historical lore, which interrupts the topo- graphical description, contains in brief all that is rarest and typical in our history from the Gwyber of Moel Bentwyrch, most frumjeous of all the Bandersnatches that haunt our valleys, down to the immortal tale of the thirsty Yeomanry vainly waiting on Heniarth Bridge while their foes drank the beer. It is with wise instinct, too, that Mr. Owen has drawn the limits of his area. We say this with regret, for so many places are omitted where we should be grateful for his company Llanfyllin and its