wanted：IrepeatedwhatIhadsaid，whereuponhisfacebecameanimated。
"LlanfairMathafarneithaf！"saidhe。"Yes，Icantellyouaboutit，andwithgoodreason，foritliesnotfarfromtheplacewhereIwasborn。"
Theabovewasthesubstanceofwhathesaid，andnothingmore，forhespokeinEnglishsomewhatbroken。
"AndhowfarisLlanfairfromhere？"saidI。
"Abouttenmiles，"hereplied。
"That’snothing，"saidI："Iwasafraiditwasmuchfarther。"
"Doyoucalltenmilesnothing，"saidhe，"inaburningdaylikethis？IthinkyouwillbebothtiredandthirstybeforeyougettoLlanfair，supposingyougothereonfoot。ButwhatmayyourbusinessbeatLlanfair？"saidhe，lookingatmeinquisitively。
"Itisastrangeplacetogoto，unlessyougotobuyhogsorcattle。"
"Igotobuyneitherhogsnorcattle，"saidI，"thoughIamsomewhatofajudgeofboth；Igoonamoreimportanterrand，namelytoseethebirth—placeofthegreatGronwyOwen。"
"AreyouanyrelationofGronwyOwen？"saidtheoldman，lookingatmemoreinquisitivelythanbefore，throughalargepairofspectacleswhichhewore。
"Nonewhatever，"saidI。
"Thenwhydoyougotoseehisparish，itisaverypoorone。"
"Fromrespecttohisgenius，"saidI；"Ireadhisworkslongago，andwasdelightedwiththem。"
"AreyouaWelshman？"saidtheoldman。
"No，"saidI，"IamnoWelshman。"
"CanyouspeakWelsh？"saidhe，addressingmeinthatlanguage。
"Alittle，"saidI；"butnotsowellasIcanreadit。"
"Well，"saidtheoldman，"Ihavelivedhereagreatmanyyears，butneverbeforedidaSaxoncalluponme，askingquestionsaboutGronwyOwen，orhisbirth—place。Immortalitytohismemory！Iowemuchtohim，forreadinghiswritingstaughtmetobeapoet！"
"Dearme！"saidI，"areyouapoet？"
"ItrustIam，"saidhe；"thoughthehumblestofYnysFon。"
Aflashofproudfire，methought，illuminedhisfeaturesashepronouncedtheselastwords。
"Iammosthappytohavemetyou，"saidI；"buttellmehowamItogettoLlanfair？"
"Youmustgofirst，"saidhe，"toTraethCochwhichinSaxoniscalledthe’RedSand。’InthevillagecalledthePentraethwhichliesabovethatsand，Iwasborn；throughthevillageandoverthebridgeyoumustpass，andafterwalkingfourmilesduenorthyouwillfindyourselfinLlanfaireithaf，atthenorthernextremityofMon。Farewell！ThateverSaxonshouldaskmeaboutGronwyOwen，andhisbirth—place！IscarcelybelieveyoutobeaSaxon，butwhetheryoubeornot，Irepeatfarewell。"
ComingtotheMenaiBridgeIaskedthemanwhotookthepennytollattheentrance，thewaytoPentraethCoch。
"Youseethatwhitehousebythewood，"saidhe，pointingsomedistanceintoAnglesey；"youmustmaketowardsittillyoucometoaplacewheretherearefourcrossroadsandthenyoumusttaketheroadtotheright。"
PassingoverthebridgeImademywaytowardsthehousebythewoodwhichstoodonthehilltillIcamewherethefourroadsmet，whenIturnedtotherightasdirected。
ThecountrythroughwhichIpassedseemedtolerablywellcultivated，thehedge—rowswereveryhigh，seemingtospringoutoflowstonewalls。Imettwoorthreegangsofreapersproceedingtotheirworkwithscythesintheirhands。
Inabouthalf—an—hourIpassedbyafarm—housepartlysurroundedwithwalnuttrees。Stillthesamehighhedgesonbothsidesoftheroad：arethesehedgesrelicsofthesacrificialgrovesofMona？
thoughtItomyself。ThenIcametoawretchedvillagethroughwhichIhurriedattherateofsixmilesanhour。Ithensawalong，lofty，craggyhillonmyrighthandtowardstheeast。
"Whatmountainisthat？"saidItoanurchinplayinginthehotdustoftheroad。
"MynyddLydiart！"saidtheurchin，tossingupahandfulofthehotdustintotheair，partofwhichindescendingfellintomyeyes。
Ishortlyafterwardspassedbyahandsomelodge。Ithensawgroves，mountainLydiartforminganoblebackground。
"Whoownsthiswood？"saidIinWelshtotwomenwhowerelimbingafelledtreebytheroad—side。
"LordVivian，"answeredone，touchinghishat。
"Thegentlemanisourcountryman，"saidhetotheotherafterIhadpassed。
Iwasnowdescendingthesideofaprettyvalley，andsoonfoundmyselfatPentraethCoch。ThepartofthePentraethwhereInowwasconsistedofafewhousesandachurch，orsomethingwhichI
judgedtobeachurch，fortherewasnosteeple；thehousesandchurchstoodaboutalittleopenspotorsquare，thechurchontheeast，andonthewestaneatlittleinnorpublic—houseoverthedoorofwhichwaswritten"TheWhiteHorse。HughPritchard。"BythistimeIhadverifiedinpartthepredictionoftheoldWelshpoetofthepost—office。ThoughIwasnotyetarrivedatLlanfair，Iwas，ifnottired，verythirsty，owingtotheburningheatoftheweather，soIdeterminedtogoinandhavesomeale。OnenteringthehouseIwasgreetedinEnglishbyMrHughPritchardhimself，atallbulkymanwithaweather—beatencountenance，dressedinabrownjerkinandcorduroytrowsers，withabroadlow—crownedbuff—
colouredhatonhishead，andwhatmighthecalledhalfshoesandhalfhigh—lowsonhisfeet。Hehadashortpipeinhismouth，whichwhenhegreetedmehetookout，butreplacedassoonasthegreetingwasover，whichconsistedof"Good—day，sir，"deliveredinafrank，heartytone。IlookedMrHughPritchardinthefaceandthoughtIhadneverseenamorehonestcountenance。OnmytellingMrPritchardthatIwantedapintofale，abuxomdamselcameforwardandledmeintoanicecoolparlourontheright—handsideofthedoor，andthenwenttofetchtheale。
MrPritchardmeanwhilewentintoakindoftap—room，frontingtheparlour，whereIheardhimtalkinginWelshaboutpigsandcattletosomeofhiscustomers。Iobservedthathespokewithsomehesitation；whichcircumstanceImentionasrathercurious，hebeingtheonlyWelshmanIhaveeverknownwho，whenspeakinghisnativelanguage，appearedtobeatalossforwords。Thedamselpresentlybroughtmetheale，whichItastedandfoundexcellent；
shewasgoingawaywhenIaskedherwhetherMrPritchardwasherfather；onherreplyingintheaffirmativeIinquiredwhethershewasborninthathouse。
"No！"saidshe；"IwasborninLiverpool；myfatherwasborninthishouse，whichbelongedtohisfathersbeforehim，butheleftitatanearlyageandmarriedmymotherinLiverpool，whowasanAngleseywoman，andsoIwasborninLiverpool。"
"AndwhatdidyoudoinLiverpool？"saidI。
"Mymotherkeptalittleshop，"saidthegirl，"whilstmyfatherfollowedvariousoccupations。"
"Andhowlonghaveyoubeenhere？"saidI。
"Sincethedeathofmygrandfather，"saidthegirl，"whichhappenedaboutayearago。Whenhediedmyfathercamehereandtookpossessionofhisbirth—right。"
"YouspeakverygoodEnglish，"saidI；"haveyouanyWelsh？"
"Ohyes，plenty，"saidthegirl；"wealwaysspeakWelshtogether，butbeingbornatLiverpool，IofcoursehaveplentyofEnglish。"
"Andwhichlanguagedoyouprefer？"saidI。
"IthinkIlikeEnglishbest，"saidthegirl，"itisthemostusefullanguage。"
"NotinAnglesey，"saidI。
"Well，"saidthegirl，"itisthemostgenteel。"
"Gentility，"saidI，"willbetheruinofWelsh，asithasbeenofmanyotherthings—whathaveItopayfortheale？"
"Threepence，"saidshe。
Ipaidthemoneyandthegirlwentout。Ifinishedmyale，andgettingupmadeforthedoor；atthedoorIwasmetbyMrHughPritchard，whocameoutofthetap—roomtothankmeformycustom，andtobidmefarewell。IaskedhimwhetherIshouldhaveanydifficultyinfindingthewaytoLlanfair。
"Nonewhatever，"saidhe，"youhaveonlytopassoverthebridgeoftheTraeth，andtogoduenorthforaboutfourmiles，andyouwillfindyourselfinLlanfair。"
"Whatkindofplaceisit？"saidI。
"Apoorstragglingvillage，"saidMrPritchard。
"ShallIbeabletoobtainalodgingthereforthenight？"saidI。
"Scarcelyonesuchasyouwouldlike，"saidHugh。
"AndwherehadIbestpassthenight？"Idemanded。
"Wecanaccommodateyoucomfortablyhere，"saidMrPritchard，"providedyouhavenoobjectiontocomeback。"
ItoldhimthatIshouldbeonlytoohappy，andforthwithdeparted，gladatheartthatIhadsecuredacomfortablelodgingforthenight。
CHAPTERXXXII
LeavePentraeth—TranquilScene—TheKnoll—TheMillerandhisWife—PoetryofGronwy—KindOffer—ChurchofLlanfair—NoEnglish—ConfusionofIdeas—TheGronwy—NotableLittleGirl—
TheSycamoreLeaf—HomefromCalifornia。
THEvillageofPentraethGochoccupiestwosidesofaromanticdell—thatpartofitwhichstandsonthesouthernside，andwhichcomprisesthechurchandthelittleinn，isbyfartheprettiest，thatwhichoccupiesthenorthernisapoorassemblageofhuts，abrookrollsatthebottomofthedell，overwhichthereisalittlebridge：comingtothebridgeIstopped，andlookedoverthesideintothewaterrunningbrisklybelow。Anagedmanwholookedlikeabeggar，butwhodidnotbegofme，stoodby。
"Towhatplacedoesthiswaterrun？"saidIinEnglish。
"IknownoSaxon，"saidheintremblingaccents。
IrepeatedmyquestioninWelsh。
"Tothesea，"hesaid，"whichisnotfaroff，indeeditissonear，thatwhentherearehightides，thesaltwatercomesuptothisbridge。"
"Youseemfeeble？"saidI。
"Iamso，"saidhe，"forIamold。"
"Howoldareyou？"saidI。
"Sixteenaftersixty，"saidtheoldmanwithasigh；"andIhavenearlylostmysightandmyhearing。"
"Areyoupoor？"saidI。
"Very，"saidtheoldman。
Igavehimatriflewhichheacceptedwiththanks。
"Whyisthissandcalledtheredsand？"saidI。
"Icannottellyou，"saidtheoldman，"IwishIcould，foryouhavebeenkindtome。"
BiddinghimfarewellIpassedthroughthenorthernpartofthevillagetothetopofthehill。Iwalkedalittlewayforwardandthenstopped，asIhaddoneatthebridgeinthedale，andlookedtotheeast，overalowstonewall。
BeforemelaytheseaorratherthenorthernentranceoftheMenaiStraits。TomyrightwasmountainLidiartprojectingsomewayintothesea；tomyleft，thatistothenorth，wasahighhill，withafewwhitehousesnearitsbase，formingasmallvillage，whichawomanwhopassedbyknittingtoldmewascalledLlanPederGochortheChurchofRedSaintPeter。MountainLidiartandtheNorthernHillformedtheheadlandsofabeautifulbayintowhichthewatersoftheTraethdell，fromwhichIhadcome，weredischarged。A
sandbank，probablycoveredwiththeseaathightide，seemedtostretchfrommountainLidiartaconsiderablewaytowardsthenorthernhill。Mountain，bayandsandbankwerebathedinsunshine；
thewaterwasperfectlycalm；nothingwasmovinguponit，norupontheshore，andIthoughtIhadneverbeheldamorebeautifulandtranquilscene。
Iwenton。Thecountrywhichhadhithertobeenverybeautiful，aboundingwithyellowcorn—fields，becamesterileandrocky；therewerestonewalls，butnohedges。Ipassedbyamooronmyleft，thenamooryhillockonmyright；thewaywasbrokenandstony；alltracesofthegoodroadsofWaleshaddisappeared；thehabitationswhichIsawbythewayweremiserablehovelsintoandoutofwhichlargesowswerestalking，attendedbytheirfarrows。
"AmIfarfromLlanfair？"saidItoachild。
"YouareinLlanfair，gentleman，"saidthechild。
AdesolateplacewasLlanfair。Theseaintheneighbourhoodtothesouth，limekilnswiththeirstiflingsmokenotfarfromme。Isatdownonalittlegreenknollontheright—handsideoftheroad；asmallhousewasnearme，andadesolate—lookingmillataboutafurlong’sdistance，tothesouth。Hogscameaboutmegruntingandsniffing。Ifeltquitemelancholy。
"Isthistheneighbourhoodofthebirth—placeofGronwyOwen？"saidItomyself。"Nowonderthathewasunfortunatethroughlife，springingfromsucharegionofwretchedness。"
Wretchedastheregionseemed，however，Isoonfoundtherewerekindlyheartsclosebyme。
AsIsatontheknollIheardsomeoneslightlycoughverynearme，andlookingtotheleftsawamandressedlikeamillerlookingatmefromthegardenofthelittlehouse，whichIhavealreadymentioned。
IgotupandgavehimtheseleofthedayinEnglish。Hewasamanaboutthirty，rathertallthanotherwise，withaveryprepossessingcountenance。HeshookhisheadatmyEnglish。
"What，"saidI，addressinghiminthelanguageofthecountry，"haveyounoEnglish？PerhapsyouhaveWelsh？"
"Plenty，"saidhe，laughing"thereisnolackofWelshamongstanyofushere。AreyouaWelshman？"
"No，"saidI，"anEnglishmanfromthefareastofLloegr。"
"Andwhatbringsyouhere？"saidtheman。
"Astrangeerrand，"Ireplied，"tolookatthebirth—placeofamanwhohaslongbeendead。"
"Doyoucometoseekforaninheritance？"saidtheman。
"No，"saidI。"Besidesthemanwhosebirth—placeIcametosee，diedpoor，leavingnothingbehindhimbutimmortality。"
"Whowashe？"saidthemiller。
"DidyoueverhearasoundofGronwyOwen？"saidI。
"Frequently，"saidthemiller；"Ihavefrequentlyheardasoundofhim。Hewasbornclosebyinahouseyonder，"pointingtothesouth。
"Ohyes，gentleman，"saidanice—lookingwoman，whoholdingalittlechildbythehandwascometothehouse—door，andwaseagerlylistening，"wehavefrequentlyheardspeakofGronwyOwen；
thereismuchtalkofhimintheseparts。"
"Iamgladtohearit，"saidI，"forIhavefearedthathisnamewouldnotbeknownhere。"
"Pray，gentleman，walkin！"saidthemiller；"wearegoingtohaveourafternoon’smeal，andshallberejoicedifyouwilljoinus。"
"Yes，do，gentleman，"saidthemiller’swife，forsuchthegoodwomanwas；"andmanyawelcomeshallyouhave。"
Ihesitated，andwasabouttoexcusemyself。
"Don’trefuse，gentleman！"saidboth，"surelyyouarenottooproudtositdownwithus？"
"IamafraidIshallonlycauseyoutrouble，"saidI。
"Dimblinder，notrouble，"exclaimedbothatonce；"praydowalkin！"
Ienteredthehouse，andthekitchen，parlour，orwhateveritwas，anicelittleroomwithaslatefloor。Theymademesitdownatatablebythewindow，whichwasalreadylaidforameal。Therewasacleanclothuponit，atea—pot，cupsandsaucers，alargeplateofbread—and—butter，andaplate，onwhichwereafewverythinslicesofbrown，waterycheese。
Mygoodfriendstooktheirseats，thewifepouredoutteaforthestrangerandherhusband，helpedusbothtobread—and—butterandthewaterycheese，thentookcareofherself。Before，however，I
couldtastethetea，thewife，seemingtorecollectherself，startedup，andhurryingtoacupboard，producedabasinfullofsnow—whitelumpsugar，andtakingthespoonoutofmyhand，placedtwoofthelargestlumpsinmycup，thoughshehelpedneitherherhusbandnorherself；thesugar—basinbeingprobablyonlykeptforgrandoccasions。
Myeyesfilledwithtears；forinthewholecourseofmylifeIhadneverexperiencedsomuchgenuinehospitality。HonourtothemillerofMonaandhiswife；andhonourtothekindhospitableCeltsingeneral！Howdifferentisthereceptionofthisdespisedraceofthewanderingstrangerfromthatof—。However，IamaSaxonmyself，andtheSaxonshavenodoubttheirvirtues；apitythattheyshouldbealluncouthandungraciousones！
Iaskedmykindhosthisname。
"JohnJones，"hereplied，"MelinyddofLlanfair。"
"Isthemillwhichyouworkyourownproperty？"Iinquired。
"No，"heanswered，"Irentitofapersonwholivescloseby。"
"Andhowhappensit，"saidI，"thatyouspeaknoEnglish？"
"Howshouldithappen，"saidhe，"thatIshouldspeakany？Ihaveneverbeenfarfromhere；mywifewhohaslivedatserviceatLiverpoolcanspeaksome。"
"Canyoureadpoetry？"saidI。
"Icanreadthepsalmsandhymnsthattheysingatourchapel，"hereplied。
"ThenyouarenotoftheChurch？"saidI。
"Iamnot，"saidthemiller；"IamaMethodist。"
"CanyoureadthepoetryofGronwyOwen？"saidI。
"Icannot，"saidthemiller，"thatiswithanycomfort；hispoetryisintheancientWelshmeasures，whichmakepoetrysodifficultthatfewcanunderstandit。"
"Icanunderstandpoetryinthosemeasures，"saidI。
"Andhowmuchtimedidyouspend，"saidthemiller，"beforeyoucouldunderstandthepoetryofthemeasures？"
"Threeyears，"saidI。
Themillerlaughed。
"Icouldnothaveaffordedallthattime，"saidhe，"tostudythesongsofGronwy。However，itiswellthatsomepeopleshouldhavetimetostudythem。HewasagreatpoetasIhavebeentold，andisthegloryofourland—buthewasunfortunate；IhavereadhislifeinWelshandpartofhisletters；andindoingsohaveshedtears。"
"Hashishouseanyparticularname？"saidI。
"ItiscalledsometimesTyGronwy，"saidthemiller；"butmorefrequentlyTafarnGoch。"
"TheRedTavern？"saidI。"HowisitthatsomanyofyourplacesarecalledGoch？thereisPentraethGoch；thereisSaintPedairGoch，andhereatLlanfairisTafarnGoch。"
Themillerlaughed。
"ItwilltakeawisermanthanI，"saidhe，"toanswerthatquestion。"
TherepastoverIroseup，gavemyhostthanks，andsaid，"Iwillnowleaveyou，andhuntupthingsconnectedwithGronwy。"
"Andwherewillyoufindallettyfornight，gentleman？"saidthemiller’swife。"Thisisapoorplace，butifyouwillmakeuseofourhomeyouarewelcome。"
"Ineednottroubleyou，"saidI，"IreturnthisnighttoPentraethGochwhereIshallsleep。"
"Well，"saidthemiller，"whilstyouareatLlanfairIwillaccompanyyouabout。Whereshallwegotofirst？"
"Whereisthechurch？"saidI。"IshouldliketoseethechurchwhereGronwyworshippedGodasaboy。"
"Thechurchisatsomedistance，"saidtheman；"itispastmymill，andasIwanttogotothemillforamoment，itwillbeperhapswelltogoandseethechurch，beforewegotothehouseofGronwy。"
Ishookthemiller’swifebythehand，pattedalittleyellow—
hairedgirlofabouttwoyearsoldonthehead，whoduringthewholetimeofthemealhadsatontheslatefloorlookingupintomyface，andleftthehousewithhonestJones。
Wedirectedourcoursetothemill，whichlaysomewaydownadeclivity，towardsthesea。Nearthemillwasacomfortable—
lookinghouse，whichmyfriendtoldmebelongedtotheproprietorofthemill。Arustic—lookingmanstoodinthemill—yard，whohesaidwastheproprietor。Thehonestmillerwentintothemill，andtherustic—lookingproprietorgreetedmeinWelsh，andaskedmeifIwascometobuyhogs。
"No，"saidI；"Iamcometoseethebirth—placeofGronwyOwen；"hestaredatmeforamoment，thenseemedtomuse，andatlastwalkedawaysaying，"Ah！agreatman。"
Themillerpresentlyjoinedme，andweproceededfartherdownthehill。Ourwaylaybetweenstonewalls，andsometimesoverthem。
Thelandwasmooryandrocky，withnothinggrandaboutit，andthemillerdescribeditwellwhenhesaiditwastirgwael—meanland。
Inaboutaquarterofanhourwecametothechurchyardintowhichwegot，thegatebeinglocked，byclamberingoverthewall。
Thechurchstandslowdownthedescent，notfardistantfromthesea。Alittlebrook，calledinthelanguageofthecountryafrwd，washesitsyard—wallonthesouth。Itisasmalledificewithnospire，buttothesouth—westthereisalittlestoneerectionrisingfromtheroof，inwhichhangsabell—thereisasmallporchlookingtothesouth。WithrespecttoitsinteriorIcansaynothing，thedoorbeinglocked。Itisprobablyliketheoutside，simpleenough。Itseemedtobeabouttwohundredandfiftyyearsold，andtobekeptintolerablerepair。Simpleastheedificewas，Ilookedwithgreatemotionuponit；andcouldIdoelse，whenIreflectedthatthegreatestBritishpoetofthelastcenturyhadworshippedGodwithinit，withhispoorfatherandmother，whenaboy？
Iaskedthemillerwhetherhecouldpointouttomeanytombsorgrave—stonesofGronwy’sfamily，buthetoldmethathewasnotawareofany。OnlookingaboutIfoundthenameofOwenintheinscriptionontheslateslabofarespectable—lookingmoderntomb，onthenorth—eastsideofthechurch。Theinscriptionwasasfollows：
ErcofamJANEOWEN
GwraigEdwardOwen，MonachlogLlanfairMathafameithaf，AfufarwChwefror281842
Yn51Oed。
I。E。"TothememoryofJANEOWENWifeofEdwardOwen，ofthemonasteryofStMaryoffartherMathafarn，whodiedFebruary28，1842，agedfifty—one。"
WhethertheEdwardOwenmentionedherewasanyrelationtothegreatGronwy，Ihadnoopportunityoflearning。Iaskedthemillerwhatwasmeantbythemonastery，andhetoldthatitwasthenameofabuildingtothenorth—eastnearthesea，whichhadoncebeenamonasterybuthadbeenconvertedintoafarm—house，thoughitstillretaineditsoriginalname。"Mayallmonasteriesbeconvertedintofarm—houses，"saidI，"andmaytheystillretaintheiroriginalnamesinmockeryofpopery！"
HavingseenallIcouldwellseeofthechurchanditsprecinctsI
departedwithmykindguide。Afterwehadretracedourstepssomeway，wecametosomestepping—stonesonthesideofawall，andthemillerpointingtothemsaid：
"ThenearestwaytothehouseofGronwywillbeoverthellamfa。"
Iwasnowbecomeashamedofkeepingtheworthyfellowfromhisbusiness，andbeggedhimtoreturntohismill。Herefusedtoleaveme，atfirst，butonmypressinghimtodoso，andonmytellinghimthatIcouldfindthewaytothehouseofGronwyverywellbymyself，heconsented。Weshookhands，themillerwishedmeluck，andbetookhimselftohismill，whilstIcrossedthellamfa。
Isoon，however，repentedhavingleftthepathbywhichIhadcome。
IwaspresentlyinamazeoflittlefieldswithstonewallsoverwhichIhadtoclamber。AtlastIgotintoalanewithastonewalloneachside。Amancametowardsmeandwasabouttopassme—hislookwasaverted，andhewasevidentlyoneofthosewhohave"noEnglish。"AWelshmanofhisdescriptionalwaysavertinghislookwhenheseesastrangerwhohethinkshas"noWelsh，"lestthestrangershouldaskhimaquestionandhebeobligedtoconfessthathehas"noEnglish。"
"IsthisthewaytoLlanfair？"saidItotheman。Themanmadeakindofrushinordertogetpastme。