"I believe you are an Englishman, sir," said the man in grey,
speaking English, "I will therefore take the liberty of answering
your question in the English tongue. The name of this place is
Dyffryn Gaint."
"Thank you," said I; "you are quite right with regard to my being
an Englishman, perhaps you are one yourself?"
"Sir," said the man in grey, "I have not the honour to be so. I am
a native of the small island in which we are."
"Small," said I, "but famous, particularly for producing
illustrious men."
"That's very true indeed, sir," said the man in grey, drawing
himself up; "it is particularly famous for producing illustrious
men."
"There was Owen Tudor?" said I.
"Very true," said the man in grey, "his tomb is in the church a
little way from hence."
"Then," said I, "there was Gronwy Owen, one of the greatest bards
that ever lived. Out of reverence to his genius I went yesterday
to see the place of his birth."
"Sir," said the man in grey, "I should be sorry to leave you
without enjoying your conversation at some length.
