The Welsh
are afraid lest an Englishman should understand their language,
and, by hearing their conversation, become acquainted with their
private affairs, or by listening to it, pick up their language
which they have no mind that he should know - and their very
children sympathise with them. All conquered people are suspicious
of their conquerors, The English have forgot that they ever
conquered the Welsh, but some ages will elapse before the Welsh
forget that the English have conquered them.
CHAPTER L
The Breakfast - The Tomen Bala - El Punto de la Vana.
I SLEPT soundly that night, as well I might, my bed being good and
my body weary. I arose about nine, dressed and went down to the
parlour which was vacant. I rang the bell, and on Tom Jenkins
making his appearance I ordered breakfast, and then asked for the
Welsh American, and learned that he had breakfasted very early and
had set out in a gig on a journey to some distance. In about
twenty minutes after I had ordered it my breakfast made its
appearance. A noble breakfast it was; such indeed as I might have
read of, but had never before seen. There was tea and coffee, a
goodly white loaf and butter; there were a couple of eggs and two
mutton chops. There was broiled and pickled salmon - there was
fried trout - there were also potted trout and potted shrimps.
Mercy upon me! I had never previously seen such a breakfast set
before me, nor indeed have I subsequently. Yes, I have
subsequently, and at that very house when I visited it some months
after.
After breakfast I called for the bill. I forget the exact amount
of the bill, but remember that it was very moderate. I paid it and
gave the noble Thomas a shilling, which he received with a bow and
truly French smile, that is a grimace. When I departed the
landlord and landlady, highly respectable-looking elderly people,
were standing at the door, one on each side, and dismissed me with
suitable honour, he with a low bow, she with a profound curtsey.
Having seen little of the town on the preceding evening, I
determined before setting out for Llangollen to become better
acquainted with it, and accordingly took another stroll about it.
Bala is a town containing three or four thousand inhabitants,
situated near the northern end of an oblong valley, at least two-
thirds of which are occupied by Llyn Tegid. It has two long
streets, extending from north to south, a few narrow cross ones, an
ancient church, partly overgrown with ivy, with a very pointed
steeple, and a town-hall of some antiquity, in which Welsh
interludes used to be performed. After gratifying my curiosity
with respect to the town, I visited the mound - the wondrous Tomen
Bala.
The Tomen Bala stands at the northern end of the town. It is
apparently formed of clay, is steep and of difficult ascent. In
height it is about thirty feet, and in diameter at the top about
fifty. On the top grows a gwern or alder-tree, about a foot thick,
its bark terribly scotched with letters and uncouth characters,
carved by the idlers of the town who are fond of resorting to the
top of the mound in fine weather, and lying down on the grass which
covers it. The Tomen is about the same size as Glendower's Mount
on the Dee, which it much resembles in shape. Both belong to that
brotherhood of artificial mounds of unknown antiquity, found
scattered, here and there, throughout Europe and the greater part
of Asia, the most remarkable specimen of which is, perhaps, that
which stands on the right side of the way from Adrianople to
Stamboul, and which is called by the Turks Mourad Tepehsi, or the
tomb of Mourad. Which mounds seem to have been originally intended
as places of sepulture, but in many instances were afterwards used
as strongholds, bonhills or beacon-heights, or as places on which
adoration was paid to the host of heaven.
From the Tomen there is a noble view of the Bala valley, the Lake
of Beauty up to its southern extremity, and the neighbouring and
distant mountains. Of Bala, its lake and Tomen, I shall have
something to say on a future occasion.
Leaving Bala I passed through the village of Llanfair and found
myself by the Dee, whose course I followed for some way. Coming to
the northern extremity of the Bala valley, I entered a pass tending
due north. Here the road slightly diverged from the river. I sped
along, delighted with the beauty of the scenery. On my left was a
high bank covered with trees, on my right a grove, through openings
in which I occasionally caught glimpses of the river, over whose
farther side towered noble hills. An hour's walking brought me
into a comparatively open country, fruitful and charming. At about
one o'clock I reached a large village, the name of which, like
those of most Welsh villages, began with Llan. There I refreshed
myself for an hour or two in an old-fashioned inn, and then resumed
my journey.
I passed through Corwen; again visited Glendower's monticle upon
the Dee, and reached Llangollen shortly after sunset, where I found
my beloved two well and glad to see me.
That night, after tea, Henrietta played on the guitar the old
muleteer tune of "El Punto de la Vana," or the main point at the
Havanna, whilst I sang the words -
"Never trust the sample when you go your cloth to buy:
The woman's most deceitful that's dressed most daintily.
The lasses of Havanna ride to mass in coaches yellow,
But ere they go they ask if the priest's a handsome fellow.
The lasses of Havanna as mulberries are dark,
And try to make them fairer by taking Jesuit's bark."
CHAPTER LI
The Ladies of Llangollen - Sir Alured - Eisteddfodau - Pleasure and
Care.
