"You call a sparrow in your Welsh a bird of the roof, do you not?" said I.

"We do," said he of the hat. "You speak Welsh very well, considering you were not born in Wales. It is really surprising that the men of Llydaw should speak the iaith so pure as they do."

"The Welsh, when they went over there," said I, "took effectual means that their descendants should speak good Welsh, if all tales be true."

"What means?" said he of the hat.

"Why," said I, "after conquering the country they put all the men to death, and married the women, but before a child was born they cut out all the women's tongues, so that the only language the children heard when they were born was pure c.u.mraeg. What do you think of that?"

"Why, that it was a cute trick," said he of the hat.

"A more clever trick I never heard," said he of the cap.

"Have you any memorials in the neighbourhood of the old Welsh?" said I.

"What do you mean?" said the man of the hat.

"Any altars of the Druids?" said I; "any stone tables?"

"None," said the man of the hat.

"What may those stones be?" said I, pointing to the stones which had struck my attention.

"Mere common rocks," said the man.

"May I go and examine them?" said I.

"O yes," said he of the hat, "and we will go with you."

We went to the stones, which were indeed common rocks, and which, when I reached them, presented quite a different appearance from that which they presented to my eye when I viewed them from afar.

"Are there many altars of the Druids in Llydaw?" said the man of the hat.

"Plenty," said I; "but those altars are older than the time of the Welsh colonists, and were erected by the old Gauls."

"Well," said the man of the cap, "I am glad to have seen a man of Llydaw."

"Whom do you call a man of Llydaw?" said I.

"Whom but yourself?" said he of the hat.

"I am not a man of Llydaw," said I in English, "but of Norfolk, where the people eat the best dumplings in the world, and speak the purest English.

Now a thousand thanks for your civility. I would have some more chat with you, but night is coming on, and I am bound to Holyhead."

Then leaving the men staring after me, I bent my steps towards Holyhead.

I pa.s.sed by a place called Llan something, standing lonely on its hill.

The country around looked sad and desolate. It is true night had come on when I saw it.

On I hurried. The voices of children sounded sweetly at a distance across the wild champaign on my left.

It grew darker and darker. On I hurried along the road; at last I came to lone, lordly groves. On my right was an open gate and a lodge. I went up to the lodge. The door was open, and in a little room I beheld a nice-looking old lady sitting by a table, on which stood a lighted candle, with her eyes fixed on a large book.

"Excuse me," said I; "but who owns this property?"

The old lady looked up from her book, which appeared to be a Bible, without the slightest surprise, though I certainly came upon her unawares, and answered:

"Mr. John Wynn."

I shortly pa.s.sed through a large village, or rather town, the name of which I did not learn. I then went on for a mile or two, and saw a red light at some distance. The road led nearly up to it, and then diverged towards the north. Leaving the road, I made towards the light by a lane, and soon came to a railroad station.

"You won't have long to wait, sir," said a man-"the train to Holyhead will be here presently."

"How far is it to Holyhead?" said I.

"Two miles, sir, and the fare is only sixpence."

"I despise railroads," said I, "and those who travel by them," and without waiting for an answer returned to the road. Presently I heard the train-it stopped for a minute at the station, and then continuing its course, pa.s.sed me on my left hand, voiding fierce sparks, and making a terrible noise-the road was a melancholy one; my footsteps sounded hollow upon it. I seemed to be its only traveller-a wall extended for a long, long way on my left. At length I came to a turnpike. I felt desolate, and wished to speak to somebody. I tapped at the window, at which there was a light; a woman opened it. "How far to Holyhead?" said I in English.

"Dim Saesneg," said the woman.

I repeated my question in Welsh.

"Two miles," said she.

"Still two miles to Holyhead by the road," thought I. "Nos da," said I to the woman, and sped along. At length I saw water on my right, seemingly a kind of bay, and presently a melancholy ship. I doubled my pace, which was before tolerably quick, and soon saw a n.o.ble-looking edifice on my left, brilliantly lighted up. "What a capital inn that would make," said I, looking at it wistfully, as I pa.s.sed it. Presently I found myself in the midst of a poor, dull, ill-lighted town.

"Where is the inn?" said I to a man.

"The inn, sir? you have pa.s.sed it. The inn is yonder," he continued, pointing towards the n.o.ble-looking edifice.

"What, is that the inn?" said I.

"Yes, sir, the railroad hotel-and a first-rate hotel it is."

"And are there no other inns?"

"Yes; but they are all poor places. No gent puts up at them-all the gents by the railroad put up at the railroad hotel."

What was I to do? after turning up my nose at the railroad, was I to put up at its hotel? Surely to do so would be hardly acting with consistency. "Ought I not rather to go to some public-house, frequented by captains of fishing-smacks, and be put in a bed a foot too short for me," said I, as I reflected on my last night's couch at Mr. Pritchard's.

"No, that won't do-I shall go to the hotel; I have money in my pocket, and a person with money in his pocket has surely a right to be inconsistent if he pleases."

So I turned back and entered the railway hotel with lofty port and with sounding step, for I had twelve sovereigns in my pocket, besides a half one, and some loose silver, and feared not to encounter the gaze of any waiter or landlord in the land. "Send boots!" I roared to the waiter, as I flung myself down in an arm-chair in a magnificent coffee-room. "What the deuce are you staring at? send boots, can't you, and ask what I can have for dinner."

"Yes, sir," said the waiter, and with a low bow departed.

"These boots are rather dusty," said the boots, a grey-haired, venerable-looking man, after he had taken off my thick, solid, square-toed boots. "I suppose you came walking from the railroad?"