Read Ebook: The Visitor's Hand-Book for Holyhead Comprising a History of the Town the Antiquities and Sublime Scenery of the Mountain by Jackson Thomas

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POST OFFICE.

DELIVERY OF LETTERS.

Letters from London, and all parts of England, arrive every morning at half-past Six. Delivery commences at eight. Letters from Ireland arrive every evening about Six p.m., and are delivered the same evening.

DESPATCH OF LETTERS.

Letters to London, and all parts of England, are despatched at Seven, every evening: Box closes at Six. Letters to Ireland are despatched at One, a.m., and Six, a.m.

AGENTS.

BANKS.

ANCIENT CUSTOMS.--EGG TAKING, FROM THE CLIFFS OF HOLYHEAD.

The eggs of many of the birds named in another page were formerly sought after as delicious food, and considered as a great treat to the epicurean. The price procured for them was a sufficient inducement for the poor to follow the adventurous trade of egg-taking; but in this, as in the pearl fishery on the coasts of Persia, the gains bear no tolerable proportion to the danger incurred. Until the dangerous practice was prohibited, men were employed in collecting them in the following manner. The adventurers having furnished themselves with every necessary implement for the business, while the sun afforded assistance by his beams, entered on the terrific undertaking. Two--for this was a trade in which co-partnership was absolutely necessary--took a station; and he whose turn it happened to be, or whose superior agility rendered it eligible, prepared for the rupestrian expedition. A strong stake was driven into the ground, at some distance from the edge of the cliff, to which a rope, of sufficient length to reach the lowest haunts of the birds, was affixed. Fastening the other end round his middle, taking the coil on his arm, and laying hold with both his hands, he threw himself over the brow of the cliff, placing his feet against its sides, and carefully shifting his hands, he gradually descended till he came to the abode of the birds; then putting his hand into the hole, while suspending himself with the other, he took possession of its contents, carefully placing the eggs in a basket slung at his back for the purpose. Having despoiled all the nests within his extent of rope, he ascended by the same means to the edge of the cliff, where his partner, whose duty hitherto was to guard the stake, crawling on hands and knees, afforded him assistance in doubling the cliff, which otherwise he would be unable to do. Dangerous occupation! A slip of the foot, or the hand, would in an instant be fatal to both. Instances have occurred where the weight of the one overcoming the strength of the other, both have been precipitated down the craggy steep, and their mangled carcases buried in the ocean.

To a stranger and bystander, this occupation appeared more dangerous than it really was; in persons habituated to bodily difficulty, the nervous system became gradually braced, and the solids attained that state of rigidity which banished irritability; while the mind, accustomed to scenes of danger, lost that timidity which frequently led to the dreadful disaster. To the person whose heart palpitates at the near approach to such heights, it must appear a presumptuous venture, and daily instances of its fatality might be expected; but facts demonstrate the contrary, and serve to prove how much we are the creatures of habit, and to what an extent difficulty and danger may be made subordinate to art and perseverance. A sight of this perilous employment would remind the beholder of that fine description--

-- How fearful And dizzy 'tis to cast one's eyes so low! The crows and choughs, that wing the midnight air, Shew scarce so gross as beetles. Half-way down Hangs one who gathers samphire;--dreadful trade.

SHALL I GET MARRIED THIS MONTH?

DANCING MATCH.

During the week-days of the wakes at Holyhead, as many musicians were collected together as could be found in and around the town; and one of them played till he was tired, when he was relieved by a fresh one; so that there was music without cessation. To this music twenty young women danced till they were tired; and who ever held out the longest gained the prize of a complete suit of apparel; if it was not decided in one day, the whole twenty commenced again on the following day, and so on to the end of the wakes. This prize, like the "Suliau y Creiriau," was left sometimes undecided, as the girls would dance till they fainted, rather than acknowledge a defeat. There was an old woman living in this parish in 1826, and who was then nearly a hundred years of age, who, in her youth, assisted in the performance of both the above customs. These barbarous usages were suppressed by a pious Curate of Holyhead, of the name of Ellis, about the year 1748.

HOLYHEAD PIER--OLD HARBOUR.

The anchorage ground outside the Harbour having been so much raked by use that the anchors would not hold, several vessels were in consequence lost. In 1831, a very strong chain of 300 feet in length was laid down across the entrance; so that when a vessel now drags her anchor before the gale, she drives forward until she grapples the chain. This plan has been the means of saving a number of vessels, and none have been on shore since it was adopted. On the Pier there is a large capstan of great power, for the use of the Government Packets and other vessels. Many large ships, by the aid of a plentiful supply of warps, have been brought into the Harbour during heavy gales, evidently snatched from destruction by the prompt assistance thus rendered. A LIFE BOAT reposes on a frame furnished with wheels, in order that it may be moved at an instant's notice; a gratifying proof that the cause of humanity is not suffered to slumber.

GRAND TRIUMPHAL ARCH.

As the visits of Monarchs are "few and far between," such an event was not to be lightly passed over. A public meeting was held on the 9th of August, and a general subscription was resolved to be entered into, for the purpose of erecting a Triumphal Arch, commemorative of the landing of His Majesty. On Wednesday, the 7th of August, 1822, the foundation stone was laid, with every circumstance that was calculated to produce an impressive effect. On the 6th of August, 1824, this elegant monument of loyalty was opened. It is a chaste and beautiful structure, in the Doric style, formed of Mona marble. It consists of four handsome pillars, twenty feet high, which are placed two on either side of a carriage-way, fourteen feet wide. Outside of the pillars, and of the same height, are two rectangular pillars, twelve feet by three feet six inches, leaving a footpath on each side of the carriage-way of five feet. The whole is surmounted with a bold and projecting cornice, and covered over by three diminishing tiers of masonry, forming a platform. Over the carriage-way, on either side, are empannelled inscriptions, in Welsh and Latin, commemorative of the event.

HOLYHEAD LIGHT-HOUSE.

The Light-house at the end of the Pier is one of the finest pieces of masonry in the kingdom--it is a master-piece of the kind, and is proof against the most violent storms and hurricanes by which it can be assailed. It is built of Moelfre stone, a kind of marble, inside as well as outside, on an inverted arch, and without any other timber than what was necessary for the door cases and window frames. It consists of three stories, or landing places, the ceilings of which are groined, and the gloves are of smooth stone. The floors are of rough polished stones. Its base is six feet above high water mark, and is protected from the sea by a strong glacis. The tower, which is circular, is thirty-three feet in height to the gallery, and the lantern, which is ten feet higher, is lighted with twenty brilliant lights of gas, having reflectors plated with silver, and displaying a strong white light in every direction, which being at an elevation of fifty feet above the level of the sea, affords a safe guide to vessels approaching the Harbour. There is a lamp, with reflector, placed opposite an aperture, twenty feet below the lantern, shewing a red light. This is not seen by vessels until they have cleared all rocks outside, when it at once appears, and the vessel alters her course, and runs for the Pier-head with confidence. In thick weather the packets are guided by signal guns and bells, which are so well arranged that sometimes the Pier Light-house has been the first object seen after crossing the channel from Ireland.

MONUMENT TO CAPTAIN SKINNER.

There's a Divinity that shapes our ends, Rough-hew them as we will.

This gallant officer, formerly commander of a post-office packet on the Holyhead station, lost his life, in 1833, by being washed overboard in an almost unaccountable manner, while standing on his own vessel speaking to one of his sailors, who was carried away by the same wave with his captain, and both ultimately disappeared. It is said the weather was not very boisterous, and that the accident was one of the most extraordinary ever known in the annals of naval experience.

The obelisk monument, erected by public subscription, to the memory of the estimable and noble-spirited officer, is now to be seen on the rocks south of the harbour. He was generally respected, and his loss greatly regretted by his numerous friends. Surely no one can visit this generous, humane, and affecting tribute of regard, without reflecting on the solemn and sudden visitations of an inscrutable Providence, as exemplified in the untimely end of the brave and benevolent Capt. Skinner.

THE CAPTAIN'S GRAVE.

No sculptured slab of marble rare The Captain's grave discloses; No flattering strain of praise records Where his pale corse reposes; No weeping kindred o'er his bier With praises laud the brave; No floweret gemmed with memory's tear Proclaims the Captain's grave.

Wrapped in a shroud of pale sea flowers, Deep in a rocky grot, The clay-cold form lies silently, Where man disturbeth not. No solemn train of funeral pomp, He died as died the brave; The fond hope of a hardy crew Rests calm below the wave.

SKERRIES LIGHT-HOUSE.

SOUTH STACK--BY LAND.

On SOUTH STACK rock what glories feast our eyes, Entrance our senses and our souls surprise! To paint each scene no colours can be found, Romantic beauties crowd the enchanted ground.

THE LIGHT-HOUSE

Is erected on an island, or rather the summit of an isolated rock, from which it takes its name, situated at the south west point of Holyhead mountain, and about four miles from the town. This splendid structure was commenced in the month of August, 1808; and the light was first exhibited on the night of the 9th of February, 1809, and is of essential service in facilitating the access to the Holyhead Harbour. It was built at the sole expense of the Corporation of Trinity House, London. The light is a revolving one, displaying a full-faced light every two minutes, which, in clear weather, is distinctly visible at a distance of ten leagues. The frame that is attached to the pivot on which the Argand lamps is fixed is triangular, having seven brilliant lamps and powerful reflectors on each side or face. The different lamps which illuminate by night have behind them large brass reflectors, lined with silver, and kept in a state of unsullied brilliance. The angles of the triangle, being all acute, the light cannot be seen when any of them points towards an object which is more than a league distant. This affords to mariners the means of distinguishing it from the Skerries Light, distant from the South Stack about nine miles. A moveable red light is also placed for the use of the government packets.

The elevation of the summit of the rock on which the Lighthouse is erected, is 140 feet above the level of the sea at high water mark; the height of the tower, from the base to the gallery, is 60 feet, and the lantern is 12 feet from the gallery, making the total elevation of the light 212 feet above high water mark, and is visible over the whole of Carnarvon Bay. The whole of this establishment was under the able superintendence of Captain H. Evans, who first pointed out the necessity of erecting a light on this spot, and whose name is imperishably connected with Holyhead and its vicinity.

From the summit of the cliff, from which the island and Lighthouse appear but diminutive objects, a zig-zag flight of steps, 365 in number, are cut in the side of the mountain, secured by a parapet, so as to afford an easy descent to the nearest part of the rock on a level with the island. The descent to the suspension bridge, which spans the sound below, affords a variety of interesting views. Each winding in the face of the rock gives a change of scenery terrific and sublime. In the summer months the sea-fowl are very numerous, thousands will be seen hovering round the huge rocks and caverns of which the coast is composed, and contribute much to impress the minds of visitors with a due sense of the grandeur and sublimity of the scene. After a few turnings, and expressions of surprise, in reference to the romantic scenery, the numerous birds wheeling in every direction, and their plaintive cry--the bridge will be attained. Once upon a time, before the suspended bridge was there, ferry-boats made an occasional passage to the Light-house, but the rough seas caused by the strong tides, about the Head, rendered the communication by boat very precarious. In order to obviate the danger, a passage was contrived by means of two ropes thrown across the gulf, along which the individual was drawn in a box or cradle, five feet in length, by the assistance of pullies affixed at each end, his body hanging down, and the bellowing ocean raging below to swallow him, if the tackling did not hold him secure. This plan was superseded by a bridge of ropes, which was used some years after, and although considered perfectly safe and convenient, was by no means agreeable to the affrighted Tourist, but it seldom happened that it became an obstacle in the way of those who wished to visit the Light-house. The present Suspension Bridge which connects the South Stack rock with the Head, was formed in 1827. It is over a chasm 110 feet in width, and built on the same principle as the Menai Bridge, two chain cables passing across, firmly fixed in the rocks on either side, and carried over two massive stone pillars erected for the purpose. The chain supports the platform of timber five feet wide, and 70 feet above high-water mark. The crossing of the bridge to some will be a little trying to the nerves. The thunders of the rolling flood below are enough to make the heart tremble, particularly when the wind blows briskly. The fairer portion of visitors, in virtue of the balloon-like construction of their attire, will more particularly court the notice of rude Boreas, and ere they can successfully battle with this bold and ungallant deity, they must exercise their ingenuity, and reef sails as well as circumstances will admit; they then, as boldly as any lord of the creation, face the warring element, and arrive safely upon the opposite crag.

Having reached the Light-house, and ascended its steep and rocky stairs, the steps of which number 80, you may gaze, from the summit, on the wilderness of waters around; observe the myriads of gulls and guillemots, standing on the edge of the rocks, or flying about in all directions; see the Telegraph, and gaze upon the ever-varying ocean, enlivened by numerous vessels passing up or down the channel. On returning, a little exertion will be required to scale the towering acclivity, but the labour is not felt between the bracing effects of the atmosphere, and the excitement. An occasional moment's pause, for breathing purposes, will afford the visitor a fine opportunity for inhaling the balmy and invigorating air; and I would advise the visitor to draw long breaths for the pleasure of it.

Previous to the erection of this Light-house, scores of vessels had, from time to time, been on shore at the back of the Head, in many of which instances all on board had perished; but since its erection it has been the means of saving from destruction several valuable lives, and many hundred thousand pounds' worth of property.

SOUTH STACK--BY WATER.

Rocks, Which raise their crested heads into the clouds, Piled in sublimity, create a scene More grand, more soothing to the pensive soul Than Rome with all its splendour.

Almost at all hours of the day the service of steady and experienced watermen may be engaged at the Harbour. The little pinnace, with its white sail, will soon be ready to convey you on your cruise. I scarcely need remark, that in order to enjoy the trip, the atmosphere must be clear and the weather calm. The Tourists having taken their seats in their snug boat, will no sooner have given the well-known signal, "all right," than the stout seamen will take to their oars, with long and strong pulls, and in a few minutes they will find themselves smoothly gliding on the crystal flood, across the beautiful and spacious Bay; and should the boatmen be in merry mood, they may enliven the scene by singing

MY NATIVE BAY.

My Native Bay is calm and bright, As ere it was of yore, When, in the days of hope and love, I stood upon its shore; The sky is glowing, soft, and blue, As once in youth it smiled, When summer seas and summer skies Were always bright and mild.

The sky--how oft hath darkness dwelt Since then upon its breast; The sea--how oft have tempests broke Its gentle dream of rest! So oft hath darker wo come o'er Calm self-enjoying thought; And passion's storms a wilder scene Within my bosom wrought.

Now, after years of absence, passed In wretchedness and pain, I come and find those seas and skies All calm and bright again. The darkness and the storm from both Have trackless passed away; And gentle as in youth, once more Thou seem'st my Native Bay.

Oh that, like thee, when toil is over And all my griefs are past, This ravaged bosom might subside To peace and joy at last! And while it lay all calm like thee, In pure unruffled sleep, Oh! might a Heaven as bright as this Be mirrored in its deep.

On the left is the New Harbour, to the right the Skerries Light-house, before you St. George's Channel. As you draw near the rocks you gain a full and varied view of the scene. In wildness and grandeur of aspect no place, assuredly, can surpass this portion of the Anglesey coast. Here nature exhibits her rude outline in the most sublime and magnificent scenery.

Let us go round, And let the sail be slack, the course be slow, That at our leisure, as we coast along, We may contemplate, and from every scene Receive its influence.

Indeed, there are few objects more interesting than the appearance of the South Stack, when approaching it by water--the Light-house towering, 212 feet above the level of the sea--the sound of life and industry--mingled with the lashing of the sea, and the cry of innumerable birds, are altogether of so unwonted a character, that if you were transported to the antipodes you would not feel more unfeigned surprise.

The Tourist by this time will be convinced that the description given in these pages is not over-coloured, not chimerical; for I am fully persuaded, that no one can visit this magnificent scenery without wishing for a vocabulary varied and rich as the Alpine aspect before him; but language supplies no expressions that could paint the effect of the whole assemblage upon his mind. A painter might here use his pencil with effect, and a poet indulge himself in his sublimities. But what are high and impending rocks--what are the giant heavings of an angry ocean--and what the proudest summit of the Andes, when placed in the scale of such interminable vastness as the creating, balancing, and peopling of innumerable globes? In contemplating systems so infinite, who can forbear exclaiming--What a mole-hill is our earth, and how insignificant are we who creep so proudly on her surface.

SOUTH STACK SEA-BIRDS.

More fleet, on nimble-wing, the gull Sweeps booming by, intent to cull Voracious, from the billow's breast, Marked far away, his destined feast; Behold him now deep plunging dip His sunny pinions sable tip In the green wave; now lightly skim With whirling flight the water's brim, Wave in the blue sky his silver sail Aloft, and frolic in the gale, Or sink again his breast to lave, And float upon the foaming wave; Oft o'er his form your eyes may roam, Not know him from the feathery foam, Nor 'mid the rolling waves, your ear On yelling blast, his clamour hear.

Though but a small number amongst the many who direct their steps to South Stack may have turned their attention to ornithology, yet none visit this romantic spot without expressing their unqualified admiration in reference to the thousands of sea-birds which perform their rapid circumlocutions in every direction, filling the air with their shrill screaming voices. Presuming, therefore, that a few remarks on the natural history of these aquatic tribes may not be deemed uninteresting, we give the following information concerning some of them.

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