What better symbols of poverty and meanness?
I went onward a long way, the weather was broiling hot, and I felt
thirsty. On the top of a long ascent stood a house by the
roadside. I went to the door and knocked - no answer - "Oes neb yn
y ty?" said I.
"Oes!" said an infantine voice.
I opened the door and saw a little girl. "Have you any water?"
said I.
"No," said the child, "but I have this," and she brought me some
butter-milk in a basin. I just tasted it, gave the child a penny
and blessed her.
"Oes genoch tad?"
"No," said she; "but I have a mam." Tad in mam; blessed sounds; in
all languages expressing the same blessed things.
After walking for some hours I saw a tall blue hill in the far
distance before me. "What is the name of that hill?" said I to a
woman whom I met.
"Pen Caer Gybi," she replied.
Soon after I came to a village near to a rocky gully. On inquiring
the name of the village, I was told it was Llan yr Afon, or the
church of the river. I passed on; the country was neither grand
nor pretty - it exhibited a kind of wildness, however, which did
not fail to interest me - there were stones, rocks and furze in
abundance. Turning round the corner of a hill, I observed through
the mists of evening, which began to gather about me, what seemed
to be rather a genteel house on the roadside; on my left, and a
little way behind it a strange kind of monticle, on which I thought
I observed tall upright stones. Quickening my pace, I soon came
parallel with the house, which as I drew nigh, ceased to look like
a genteel house, and exhibited an appearance of great desolation.
It was a white, or rather grey structure of some antiquity. It was
evidently used as a farm-house, for there was a yard adjoining to
it, in which were stacks and agricultural implements. Observing
two men in the yard, I went in. They were respectable, farm-
looking men, between forty and fifty; one had on a coat and hat,
the other a cap and jacket. "Good evening," I said in Welsh.
"Good evening," they replied in the same language, looking
inquiringly at me.
"What is the name of this place?" said I.
"It is called Ty gwyn," said the man of the hat.
"On account of its colour, I suppose?" said I.
"Just so," said the man of the hat.
"It looks old," said I.
"And it is old," he replied. "In the time of the Papists it was
one of their chapels."
"Does it belong to you?" I demanded.
