very many bodies of saints are said to be buried there." Six centuries before Giraldus wrote about this island which he never visited, Cadfan, with his cousin Maelrys and a party of refugees from turbulent Armorica, found their way into Lleyn, where Einion, its powerful prince, provided them with asylum. Cadfan was created first Abbot of Bardsey, and here the tutelar saint of Celtic warriors had the winds and tides to fight for him; no invader would lightly cross the race.
Ynys Enlli is still little visited. At times a tourist steamer calls, but does not always land its pilgrims, and crossing by boat from the little cliff-sheltered village of Aberdaran, the most westerly settlement of any size in North Wales, is at the best of times uncertain; the visitor may have to extend his holiday. Yet Bardsey is no weather-beaten, inhospitable rock, but a well cultivated island, inhabited by farmers and fishermen, at home behind the plough or in the stems of their open boats.
We rowed south, hugging the shore of Aberdaron Bay, rounded Pen-y-cil, passed under the frowning cliffs, storm-washed Careg-du on our left, until we reached the great headland of Braich-y-pwll. Centuries ago the fame of the sacred island spread far and wide; pilgrims in thousands, so it is said, toiled westward through Wales or sailed from Ireland to visit or end their days on Bardsey. Some waited chance to cross at Aberdaron, where an ancient church still stands, but others sailed from Eglwysfair, beneath the shelter of Mynydd-mawr. Throughout their route they found wells of clear, health~giving water, blessed and tended by holy men. There was Holywell, where good St. Beuno raised to life his murdered niece, St. Winefred; there was Tremeirchion, Clynnog, and many another. Last of all on the mainland was the one below the turf-covered stones, all that remains of St. Mary's Church, where the water bubbles into a natural
