Beggars on Horseback

In Short

Blending sharp observation with self-deprecating humor, this travelogue chronicles a fortnight-long riding journey across rural North Wales undertaken by two companions and their stubborn ponies, Tommy and Tom. From the sweltering heat of departure to the bone-chilling heights of Snowdon and the drenched gloom of Llanberis, the narrative captures both the bounteous calm of the countryside and the absurdities of tourist culture. It endures through its vivid evocation of landscape, precise character sketches, and affectionate, unromanticized depiction of outdoor adventure.

The Story

The journey begins in a sun-baked town where an ironmonger recommends a pony formerly in a yeomanry band. Accompanied by their resilient mounts, Tommy and Tom, the two travelers set out on a riding tour of North Wales, immediately encountering a talkative Yorkshirewoman who champions the gaiety of Scarborough over the quietude of Wales. After crawling through the sweltering heat and dodging roadside obstacles, they escape the lowlands, traversing pastoral hills and stopping briefly for a frugal lunch. They eventually reach Cannoffice, a sylvan and indomitably Welsh village, before pushing onward into a stark, green region reminiscent of Connemara.

The route leads them to the Church of Mallwydd, where they listen respectfully to a service delivered entirely in Welsh by a dark-faced Kelt, while observing the local congregation and an eccentric bearded man who glares at them. Fleeing a gipsy spring that terrifies their mounts, they arrive in the grey town of Dolgelly after a grueling twelve-mile trek. Exhaustion and heat-fever overwhelm them upon arrival, leaving them temporarily prostrated in their hotel rooms.

Recovering their strength, they push forward toward Trowsefunneth, enduring abysmal hotel coffee, salt butter, and tough bacon before marveling at Mr. Oakley’s glen in the evening light. They reach Maentwrog, where the sounds of running water and tourist tales greet them at the Grapes Hotel. The next major milestone brings them to the Pass of Aberglaslyn and the conventional pilgrimage site of Gelert’s grave, surrounded by reticent honeymooners and a woman selling rag dolls in traditional Welsh dress.

The ascent of Snowdon follows under the guidance of Griffith Roberts, a man of astonishing speed. They climb through stream beds and heather tussocks until they reach the bleak summit plateau, where a freezing shanty shelters a press representative from Brixton. Shivering beside a microscopic stove, they endure the bitter cold before descending the following day to meet the postmaster of Rhyddu and navigate paths littered with tourist debris.

Relentless rain drives them toward Bettwys-y-Coed and the Pass of Llanberis, where dripping trees and slate-grey lakes frame their damp progress. At their hotel, they share a polite dinner with a nervous amateur photographer who abruptly flees at daybreak. Heading southeast, they reach Corwen and find sanctuary in the historic Owen Glendwr hotel, passing time by reading the absurd and boastful verse left by previous visitors in the hotel’s copious books. Finally, they part from their faithful ponies with lingering regret, returning by train to Chester and ultimately to Holyhead, where the predictable mishap of missing luggage caps their fortnight of independent wandering.

How It Unfolds

The departure and first encounters The narrative opens with a heat-struck deliberation over potential mounts in an ironmonger's shop before the travelers finally set off on their ponies. They immediately contend with steep, dusty roads, erratic animal panics, and an overwhelmingly talkative tourist from Yorkshire who extols the commercial gaiety of Scarborough over the quiet Welsh countryside.

Into the Welsh interior Moving away from immediate civilization, the journey winds through sylvan hamlets like Cannoffice and open, green landscapes echoing the barer tracts of Connemara. The travelers absorb local color, attending a traditional Welsh church service in Mallwydd and suffering the cumulative physical tolls of intense heat, poor hotel food, and grueling twelve-mile days.

The ascent of Snowdon A major structural set-piece involves climbing Snowdon under the brisk, taciturn guidance of Griffith Roberts. This arduous trek culminates at a frigid, primitive summit shanty where they huddle desperately around a microscopic stove alongside an opinionated press representative from Brixton.

Rain and retreat Weather conditions deteriorate sharply as persistent rain drives them through Bettwys-y-Coed and the imposing, slate-grey Pass of Llanberis. Wrapped in waterproofs and makeshift gear, they navigate drenched landscapes and quirky hotel dining rooms before slowly making their way toward Corwen.

The final farewell The book concludes with a humorous inspection of the whimsical, boastful, and satirical verse left in local visitors' books by previous tourists. After a poignant, reluctant parting from their faithful ponies, the travelers face the jarring return to modern rail transit and a final logistical mishap with their luggage at Holyhead.

The People

The primary figures are the two traveling companions, one of whom serves as the narrator while the other, Miss O’Flannigan, focuses entirely on artistic values and painting. Miss O’Flannigan seeks scenic subjects and authentic landscapes, but faces constant obstacles ranging from uncooperative hairpins and sweltering heat to terrifying roadside objects that panic their mounts. She remains resilient, maintaining an artist’s detachment even when physically exhausted or soaked to the skin.

Their animal companions, the ponies Tommy and Tom, want little more than peace and an absence of traction-engines or terrifying gipsy springs, yet they must contend with steep Welsh gradients, heavy hold-alls, and sudden bouts of nervous panic. They end the journey as they began: stubbornly independent and deeply suspicious of human affection.

Along the way, they encounter memorable local figures, such as Griffith Roberts, the Snowdon guide. Roberts wants to complete his professional duties efficiently, hindered only by the breathless pace he sets and the linguistic barriers between him and his clients; he remains entirely unmoved by their physical struggles. There is also the talkative Yorkshirewoman who wants to broadcast the superior charms of Scarborough, and a succession of hotel proprietors, chambermaids, and eccentric locals like the bearded churchgoer who views the travelers with fierce suspicion. These figures highlight the clash between visiting tourists and unyielding local traditions, leaving the main travelers wiser about the quiet trials of rural touring.

In Its Own Voice

Reflecting on the paradoxical nature of local hospitality and weary travel, the authors describe their culinary reality with sharp precision:

We can no longer refrain from mentioning that there are two things in Wales, yea, three, which the traveller would do well to avoid, and yet can hardly hope to escape from--butter, bacon, coffee.

Describing the stark and majestic isolation encountered away from the beaten track, they capture the landscape's distinct character:

Not a tree broke the tender barrenness of the outlines: big and mild, with the magnanimous curves of the brows of an elephant, the hills stood clothed in the sweet short grass.

Observing the peculiar monuments erected to satisfy the romantic expectations of visitors, they note the artificiality surrounding local legends:

The sentiment of the back-garden has been added at a touch by the railing, and the result suffices to the tourist.

What It's Really About

Beneath its lighthearted surface as a holiday account, the book explores the gentle absurdity of tourist convention and the friction between modern travelers and ancient, unyielding landscapes. It examines how standardized leisure rituals—such as visiting designated graves, climbing prescribed peaks, and signing communal hotel registers—impose an artificial framework onto wild terrain. Furthermore, it reflects on the quiet endurance required to step outside urban routines, testing physical limits against indifferent weather, stubborn animals, and regional isolation. Ultimately, it questions what visitors truly seek when they flee intellectual centers for the rural margins, contrasting the romantic ideal of a holiday with the gritty, humorous reality of mud, bad coffee, and muscle fatigue.

Why Read It Today

Readers who appreciate witty travel writing, sharp social observation, and vivid nature descriptions will find much to love here. Reading it feels like accompanying two perceptive, unpretentious companions whose humor never hardens into cynicism. What stays with you long after finishing is the sensory texture of the journey: the glare of the dust, the chill of the mountain shanty, the steady trudge of the stubborn ponies, and the quiet dignity of a landscape that cares little for passing tourists.

Modern readers should be prepared for certain period characteristics, including nineteenth-century assumptions about local populations, archaic dialect representations, and occasional linguistic barriers that reflect the era's viewpoint. However, these elements are balanced by an absence of modern marketing hype; the authors are remarkably honest about their own physical miseries, vanity failures, and moments of utter exhaustion. It stands as a timeless, unvarnished portrait of outdoor exploration that rewards anyone willing to slow down and experience the rugged humor of the open road.