"In truth, sir, he has; and a very good wife she is."

"Has he children?"

"Plenty, sir; and very fine children they are."

"Is he Welsh?"

"He is, sir! c.u.mro pur iawn."

"Farewell," said I; "I shall never forget you; you are the first tenant I ever heard speak well of his landlord, or any one connected with him."

"Then you have not spoken to the other tenants of Mr. Blicklin, sir.

Every tenant of Mr. Blicklin would say the same of him as I have said, and of his wife and his children too. Good day, sir!"

I wended on my way; the sun was very powerful; saw cattle in a pool on my right, maddened with heat and flies, splashing and fighting. Presently I found myself with extensive meadows on my right, and a wall of rocks on my left, on a lofty bank below which I saw goats feeding; beautiful creatures they were, white and black, with long, silky hair, and long, upright horns. They were of large size, and very different in appearance from the common race. These were the first goats which I had seen in Wales; for Wales is not at present the land of goats, whatever it may have been.

I pa.s.sed under a crag, exceedingly lofty, and of very frightful appearance. It hung menacingly over the road. With this crag the wall of rocks terminated; beyond it lay an extensive strath, meadow, or marsh, bounded on the east by a lofty hill. The road lay across the marsh. I went forward, crossed a bridge over a beautiful streamlet, and soon arrived at the foot of the hill. The road now took a turn to the right, that is, to the south, and seemed to lead round the hill. Just at the turn of the road stood a small, neat cottage. There was a board over the door with an inscription. I drew nigh and looked at it, expecting that it would tell me that good ale was sold within, and read "Tea made here, the draught which cheers but not inebriates." I was before what is generally termed a temperance house.

"The bill of fare does not tempt you, sir," said a woman, who made her appearance at the door, just as I was about to turn away with an exceedingly wry face.

"It does not," said I, "and you ought to be ashamed of yourself to have nothing better to offer a traveller than a cup of tea. I am faint; and I want good ale to give me heart, not wishy-washy tea to take away the little strength I have."

"What would you have me do, sir? Glad should I be to have a cup of ale to offer you, but the magistrates, when I applied to them for a license, refused me one; so I am compelled to make a cup of tea in order to get a crust of bread. And if you choose to step in, I will make you a cup of tea, not wishy-washy, I a.s.sure you, but as good as ever was brewed."

"I had tea for my breakfast at Bethgelert," said I, "and want no more till to-morrow morning. What's the name of that strange-looking crag across the valley?"

"We call it Craig yr hyll ddrem, sir; which means- I don't know what it means in English."

"Does it mean the Crag of the frightful look?"

"It does, sir," said the woman; "ah, I see you understand Welsh.

Sometimes it is called Allt Traeth."

"The high place of the sandy channel," said I. "Did the sea ever come up here?"

"I can't say, sir; perhaps it did; who knows?"

"I shouldn't wonder," said I, "if there was once an arm of the sea between that crag and this hill. Thank you! Farewell!"

"Then you won't walk in, sir?"

"Not to drink tea," said I; "tea is a good thing at a proper time, but were I to drink it now it would make me ill."

"Pray, sir, walk in," said the woman, "and perhaps I can accommodate you."

"Then you have ale?" said I.

"No, sir; not a drop; but perhaps I can set something before you which you will like as well."

"That I question," said I; "however, I will walk in."

The woman conducted me into a nice little parlour, and, leaving me, presently returned with a bottle and tumbler on a tray.

"Here, sir," said she, "is something which, though not ale, I hope you will be able to drink."

"What is it?" said I.

"It is-, sir; and better never was drunk."

I tasted it; it was terribly strong. Those who wish for either whiskey or brandy far above proof should always go to a temperance house.

I told the woman to bring me some water, and she brought me a jug of water cold from the spring. With a little of the contents of the bottle, and a deal of the contents of the jug, I made myself a beverage tolerable enough; a poor subst.i.tute, however, to a genuine Englishman for his proper drink, the liquor which, according to the Edda, is called by men ale, and by the G.o.ds, beer.

I asked the woman whether she could read; she told me that she could, both Welsh and English; she likewise informed me that she had several books in both languages. I begged her to show me some, whereupon she brought me some half-dozen, and placing them on the table, left me to myself. Amongst the books was a volume of poems in Welsh, written by Robert Williams of Betws Fawr, styled in poetic language, Gwilym Du O Eifion. The poems were chiefly on religious subjects. The following lines, which I copied from "Pethau a wnaed mewn Gardd," or things written in a garden, appeared to me singularly beautiful:-

"Mewn gardd y cafodd dyn ei dwyllo; Mewn gardd y rhoed oddewid iddo; Mewn gardd bradychwyd Iesu hawddgar; Mewn gardd amdowyd ef mewn daear."

"In a garden the first of our race was deceived; In a garden the promise of grace he received; In a garden was Jesus betray'd to His doom; In a garden His body was laid in the tomb."

Having finished my gla.s.s of "summut" and my translation, I called to the woman and asked her what I had to pay.

"Nothing," said she; "if you had had a cup of tea I should have charged sixpence."

"You make no charge," said I, "for what I have had."

"Nothing, sir; nothing."

"But suppose," said I, "I were to give you something by way of present, would you-" and here I stopped.

The woman smiled.

"Would you fling it in my face?" said I.

"O dear, no, sir," said the woman, smiling more than before.

I gave her something-it was not a sixpence-at which she not only smiled, but curtseyed; then bidding her farewell I went out of the door.

I was about to take the broad road, which led round the hill, when she inquired of me where I was going, and on my telling her to Festiniog, she advised me to go by a by-road behind the house, which led over the hill.

"If you do, sir," said she, "you will see some of the finest prospects in Wales, get into the high road again, and save a mile and a half of way."

I told the temperance woman I would follow her advice, whereupon she led me behind the house, pointed to a rugged path, which with a considerable ascent seemed to lead towards the north, and after, giving certain directions, not very intelligible, returned to her temperance temple.

CHAPTER XLVII