"Was there ever a chapel here?" said I.
"I don't know, sir; there is none now."
"I daresay there was in the old time," said I to myself, as I went
on, "in which some holy hermit prayed and told his beads, and
occasionally received benighted strangers. What a poetical word
that Gwynfa, place of bliss, is. Owen Pugh uses it in his
translation of 'Paradise Lost' to express Paradise, for he has
rendered the words Paradise Lost by Col Gwynfa - the loss of the
place of bliss. I wonder whether the old scholar picked up the
word here. Not unlikely. Strange fellow that Owen Pugh. Wish I
had seen him. No hope of seeing him now, except in the heavenly
Gwynfa. Wonder whether there is such a place. Tom Payne thinks
there's not. Strange fellow that Tom Payne. Norfolk man. Wish I
had never read him."
Presently I came to a little cottage with a toll-bar. Seeing a
woman standing at the door, I inquired of her the name of the gate.
"Cowslip Gate, sir."
"Has it any Welsh name?"
"None that I know of, sir."
This place was at a considerable altitude, and commanded an
extensive view to the south, west, and north. Heights upon heights
rose behind it to the east. From here the road ran to the south
for a little way nearly level, then turned abruptly to the east,
and was more steep than ever.
