askedhimifheeverread。Hesaidhereadagreatdeal，especiallytheworksofHuwMorris，andthatreadingthemhadgivenhimaloveforthesightsofnature。Headdedthathisgreatestdelightwastocometotheplacewherehethenwasofanevening，andlookatthewatersandhills。Iaskedhimwhattradehewas。
"ThetradeofJoseph，"saidhe，smiling。"Saer。""Farewell，brother，"saidI；"Iamnotacarpenter，butlikeyouIreadtheworksofHuwMorrisandamoftheChurchofEngland。"Ithenshookhimbythehandanddeparted。
Ipassedavillagewithastupendousmountainjustbehindittothenorth，whichIwastoldwascalledMoelVrithortheparty—colouredmoel。Iwasnowdrawingneartothewesternendofthevalley。
Sceneryofthewildestandmostpicturesquedescriptionwasrifeandplentifultoadegree：hillswerehere，hillswerethere；sometallandsharp，othershugeandhumpy；hillswereoneveryside；
onlyaslightopeningtothewestseemedtopresentitself。"Whatavalley！"Iexclaimed。ButonpassingthroughtheopeningIfoundmyselfinanother，wilderandstranger，ifpossible。Fulltothewestwasalonghillrisingupliketheroofofabarn，anenormousroundhillonitsnorth—eastside，andonitssouth—eastthetailoftherangewhichIhadlonghadonmyleft—thereweretreesandgrovesandrunningwaters，butallindeepshadow，fornightwasnowcloseathand。
"Whatisthenameofthisplace？"Ishoutedtoamanonhorseback，whocamedashingthroughabrookwithawomaninaWelshdressbehindhim。
"AberCowarch，Saxon！"saidthemaninadeepgutturalvoice，andlashinghishorsedisappearedrapidlyinthenight。
"AberCywarch！"Icried，springinghalfayardintotheair。"Why，that’stheplacewhereEllisWynncomposedhisimmortal’SleepingBard，’thebookwhichItranslatedintheblesseddaysofmyyouth。
Oh，nowonderthatthe’SleepingBard’isawildandwondrouswork，seeingthatitwascomposedamidstthewildandwonderfulsceneswhichIherebehold。"
Iproceededonwardsupanascent；aftersometimeIcametoabridgeacrossastream，whichamantoldmewascalledAvonGerres。
ItrunsintotheDyfi，comingdownwitharushingsoundfromawildvaletothenorth—eastbetweenthehugebarn—likehillandMoelVrith。Thebarn—likehillIwasinformedwascalledPenDyn。I
soonreachedDinasMawddwy，whichstandsonthelowerpartofahighhillconnectedwiththePenDyn。Dinas，troughatonetimeaplaceofconsiderableimportance，ifwemayjudgefromitsname，whichsignifiesafortifiedcity，isatpresentlittlemorethanacollectionoffilthyhuts。Butthoughadirtysqualidplace，I
founditanythingbutsilentanddeserted。Fierce—looking，red—
hairedmen，whoseemedasiftheymightbedescendantsofthered—
hairedbandittiofold，werestaggeringabout，andsoundsofdrunkenrevelryechoedfromthehuts。IsubsequentlylearnedthatDinaswasthehead—quartersofminers，theneighbourhoodaboundingwithminesbothofleadandstone。Iwasgladtoleaveitbehindme。MallwydistothesouthofDinas—thewaytoitisbyaromanticgorgedownwhichflowstheRoyalDyfi。AsIproceededalongthisgorgethemoonrisingaboveMoelVrithilluminedmypath。Inabouthalf—an—hourIfoundmyselfbeforetheinnatMallwyd。
CHAPTERLXXV
InnatMallwyd—ADialogue—TheCumro。
IENTEREDtheinn，andseeingacomely—lookingdamselatthebar，I
toldherthatIwasinneedofsupperandabed。Sheconductedmeintoaneatsandedparlour，whereagoodfirewasblazing，andaskedmewhatIwouldhaveforsupper。"Whateveryoucanmostreadilyprovide，"saidI；"Iamnotparticular。"Themaidretired，andtakingoffmyhat，anddisencumberingmyselfofmysatchel，I
satdownbeforethefireandfellintoadoze，inwhichIdreamedofsomeofthewildscenesthroughwhichIhadlatelypassed。
IdozedanddozedtillIwasrousedbythemaidtouchingmeontheshoulderandtellingmethatsupperwasready。Igotupandperceivedthatduringmydozeshehadlaidtheclothandputsupperuponthetable。Itconsistedofbaconandeggs。DuringsupperI
hadsomeconversationwiththemaid。
MYSELF。—Areyouanativeofthisplace？
MAID。—Iamnot，sir；IcomefromDinas。
MYSELF。—Areyourparentsalive？
MAID。—Mymotherisalive，sir，butmyfatherisdead。
MYSELF。—Wheredoesyourmotherlive？
MAID。—AtDinas，sir。
MYSELF。—Howdoesshesupportherself？
MAID。—Bylettinglodgingstominers，sir。
MYSELF。—Aretheminersquietlodgers？
MAID。—Notalways，sir；sometimestheygetupatnightandfightwitheachother。
MYSELF。—Whatdoesyourmotherdoonthoseoccasions？
MAID。—Shedrawsthequiltoverherhead，andsaysherprayers，sir。
MYSELF。—Whydoesn’tshegetupandpartthem？
MAID。—Lestsheshouldgetapunchorathwackforhertrouble，sir。
MYSELF。—Ofwhatreligionaretheminers？
MAID。—TheyareMethodists，iftheyareanything；buttheydon’ttroubletheirheadsmuchaboutreligion。
MYSELF。—Ofwhatreligionareyou？
MAID。—IamoftheChurch，sir。
MYSELF。—DidyoualwaysbelongtotheChurch？
MAID。—Notalways。WhenIwasatDinasIusedtohearthepreacher，butsinceIhavebeenhereIhavelistenedtotheclergyman。
MYSELF。—Istheclergymanhereagoodman？
MAID。—Averygoodmanindeed，sir。Helivescloseby。ShallI
goandtellhimyouwanttospeaktohim？
MYSELF。—Ohdearme，no！Hecanemployhistimemuchmoreusefullythaninwaitinguponme。
AftersupperIsatquietforaboutanhour。Thenringingthebell，Iinquiredofthemaidwhethertherewasanewspaperinthehouse。
Shetoldmetherewasnot，butthatshethoughtshecouldprocuremeone。Inalittletimeshebroughtmeanewspaper，whichshesaidshehadborrowedattheparsonage。ItwastheCUMRO，anexcellentWelshjournalwrittenintheinterestoftheChurch。InperusingitscolumnsIpassedacoupleofhoursveryagreeably，andthenwenttobed。
CHAPTERLXXVI
MallwydanditsChurch—SonsofShoemakers—VillageInn—
Dottings。
THEnextdaywasthethirty—firstofOctober，andwasratherfinefortheseason。AsIdidnotintendtojourneyfartherthisdaythanMachynlleth，aprincipaltowninMontgomeryshire，distantonlytwelvemiles，IdidnotstartfromMallwydtilljustbeforenoon。
Mallwydisasmallbutprettyvillage。Thechurchisalongedificestandingonaslightelevationontheleftoftheroad。
ItspulpitisillustriousfromhavingformanyyearsbeenoccupiedbyoneoftheverycelebratedmenofWales，namelyDoctorJohnDavies，authorofthegreatWelshandLatindictionary，animperishablework。Animmenseyewtreegrowsinthechurchyard，andpartlyovershadowstheroadwithitsbranches。Theparsonagestandsaboutahundredyardstothesouthofthechurch，nearagroveoffirs。ThevillageisoverhungonthenorthbythemountainsoftheArranrange，fromwhichitisseparatedbythemurmuringDyfi。Tothesouthformanymilesthecountryisnotmountainous，butpresentsapleasantvarietyofhillanddale。
AfterleavingthevillagealittlewaybehindmeIturnedroundtotakealastviewofthewonderfulregionfromwhichIhademergedonthepreviousevening。Formingthetwosidesofthepassdownwhichcomes"theroyalriver"stoodtheDinasmountainandCefnCoch，thefirstontheleft，andtheotherontheright。Behind，formingthebackgroundofthepass，appearing，thoughnowsomemilesdistant，almostinmyproximity，stoodPenDyn。Thishillhasvariousnames，buttheonewhichIhavenotedhere，andwhichsignifiestheheadofaman，perhapsdescribesitbest。FromwhereIlookedatitonthatlastdayofOctoberitcertainlylookedlikeanenormoushead，andputmeinmindoftheheadofMambrino，mentionedinthemasterworkwhichcommemoratestheachievementsoftheMancheganknight。Thismightymountainisthebirthplaceofmorethanoneriver。IftheGerresissuesfromitseasternside，fromitswesternspringstheMaw，thatsingularlypicturesquestream，whichenterstheoceanattheplacewhichtheSaxonscorruptlycallBarmouthandtheCumrywithgreatproprietyAberMaw，orthedisemboguementoftheMaw。
JustasIwasabouttopursuemyjourneytwoboyscameup，boundinthesamedirectionasmyself。Onewasalargeboydressedinawaggoner’sfrock，theotherwasalittlefellowinabrowncoatandyellowishtrowsers。AswewalkedalongtogetherIenteredintoconversationwiththem。TheycamefromDinasMawddwy。Thelargeboytoldmethathewasthesonofamanwhocartedmwynorleadore，andthelittlefellowthathewasthesonofashoemaker。Thelatterwasbyfarthecleverest，andnowonder，forthesonofshoemakersarealwaysclever，whichassertionshouldanybodydoubtIbeghimtoattendtheexaminationsatCambridge，atwhichhewillfindthatinthreecasesoutoffourtheseniorwranglersarethesonsofshoemakers。FromthislittlechapIgotagreatdealofinformationaboutPenDyn，everypartofwhichheappearedtohavetraversed。Hetoldmeamongstotherthingsthattherewasacastleuponit。Likeatruesonofashoemaker，however，hewasanarchrogue。Comingtoasmallhousewithagardenattachedtoitinwhichtherewereapple—trees，hestopped，whilstIwentonwiththeotherboy，andafteraminuteortwocameuprunningwithacoupleofapplesinhishand。
"Wheredidyougetthoseapples？"saidI；"Ihopeyoudidnotstealthem。"
Hemadenoreply，butbitone，thenmakingawryfaceheflungitaway，andsoheservedtheother。Presentlyafterwards，comingtoasidelane，thefutureseniorwrangler，foraseniorwranglerheisdestinedtobe，alwaysprovidedhefindshiswaytoCambridge，darteddownitlikeanarrow，anddisappeared。
Icontinuedmywaywiththeotherlad，occasionallyaskinghimquestionsabouttheminesofMawddwy。Theinformation，however，whichIobtainedfromhimwasnexttonothing，forheappearedtobeasheavyasthestuffwhichhisfathercarted。AtlengthwereachedavillageformingakindofsemicircleonagreenwhichlookedsomethinglikeasmallEnglishcommon。Totheeastwerebeautifulgreenhills；tothewestthevalleywiththeriverrunningthroughit，beyondwhichroseothergreenhillsyetmorebeautifulthantheeasternones。Iaskedtheladthenameoftheplace，butIcouldnotcatchwhathesaid，forhisanswerwasmerelyanindistinctmumble，andbeforeIcouldquestionhimagainheleftme，withoutawordofsalutation，andtrudgedawayacrossthegreen。
DescendingahillIcametoabridge，underwhichranabeautifulriver，whichcamefoamingdownfromagulleybetweentwooftheeasternhills。FromamanwhomImetIlearnedthatthebridgewascalledPontCoombLinau，andthatthenameofthevillageIhadpassedwasLinau。TherivercarriesanimportanttributetotheDyfi，atleastitdidwhenIsawit，thoughperhapsinsummeritislittlemorethanadrywater—course。
Half—an—hour’swalkingbroughtmefromthisplacetoasmalltownorlargevillage，withachurchattheentranceandtheusualyewtreeinthechurchyard。SeeingakindofinnIenteredit，andwasshownbyalad—waiterintoalargekitchen，inwhichwereseveralpeople。IhadtoldhiminWelshthatIwantedsomeale，andasheopenedthedoorhecriedwithaloudvoice，"Cumro！"asmuchastosay，Mindwhatyousaybeforethischap，forheunderstandsCumraeg—thatwordwasenough。Thepeople，whoweretalkingfastandeagerlyasImademyappearance，instantlybecamesilentandstaredatmewithmostsuspiciouslooks。Isatdown，andwhenmyalewasbroughtItookaheartydraught，andobservingthatthecompanywerestillwatchingmesuspiciouslyandmaintainingthesamesuspicioussilence，Ideterminedtocomportmyselfinamannerwhichshouldtoacertainextentaffordthemgroundforsuspicion。
Ithereforeslowlyanddeliberatelydrewmynote—bookoutofmywaistcoatpocket，unclaspedit，tookmypencilfromtheloopsatthesideofthebook，andforthwithbegantodotdownobservationsupontheroomandcompany，nowlookingtotheleft，nowtotheright，nowaloft，nowalow，nowskewingatanobject，nowleeringatanindividual，myeyeshalfclosedandmymouthdrawnconsiderablyaside。Herefollowsomeofmydottings：—
"Averycomfortablekitchenwithachimney—corneronthesouthside—immensegrateandbrilliantfire—largekettlehangingoveritbyachainattachedtoatransverseironbar—asettleontheleft—handsideofthefire—sevenfinelargemennearthefire—
twouponthesettle，twouponchairs，oneinthechimney—cornersmokingapipe，andtwostandingup—tablenearthesettlewithglasses，amongstwhichisthatofmyself，whositnearlyinthemiddleoftheroomalittlewayontheright—handsideofthefire。
"Thefloorisofslate；afinebrindledgreyhoundliesbeforeitonthehearth，andashepherd’sdogwandersabout，occasionallygoingtothedoorandscratchingasifanxioustogetout。Thecompanyaredressedmostlyinthesamefashion，browncoats，broad—brimmedhats，andyellowishcorduroybreecheswithgaiters。Onewholookslikealabouringmanhasawhitesmockandawhitehat，patchedtrowsers，andhighlowscoveredwithgravel—onehasabluecoat。
"Thereisaclockontheright—handsideofthekitchen；awarming—
panhangsclosebyitontheprojectingsideofthechimney—corner。
OnthesamesideisalargerackcontainingmanyplatesanddishesofStaffordshireware。Letmenotforgetapairoffire—ironswhichhangontheright—handsideofthechimney—corner！"
Imadeagreatmanymoredottings，whichIshallnotinserthere。
DuringthewholetimeIwasdottingthemostmarvelloussilenceprevailedintheroom，brokenonlybytheoccasionalscratchingofthedogagainsttheinsideofthedoor，thetickingoftheclock，andtheruttlingofthesmoker’spipeinthechimney—corner。AfterIhaddottedtomyheart’scontentIclosedmybook，putthepencilintotheloops，thenthebookintomypocket，drankwhatremainedofmyale，gotup，and，afteranotherlookattheapartmentanditsfurniture，andaleeratthecompany，departedfromthehousewithoutceremony，havingpaidforthealewhenIreceivedit。
AfterwalkingsomefiftyyardsdownthestreetIturnedhalfroundandbeheld，asIknewIshould，thewholecompanyatthedoorstaringafterme。Ileeredsidewaysatthemforabouthalfaminute，buttheystoodmyleerstoutly。SuddenlyIwasinspiredbyathought。TurningroundIconfrontedthem，andpullingmynote—
bookoutofmypocket，andseizingmypencil，Ifelltodottingvigorously。Thatwastoomuchforthem。Asifstruckbyapanic，myquondamfriendsturnedroundandboltedintothehouse；therustic—lookingmanwiththesmock—frockandgravelledhighlowsnearlyfallingdowninhiseagernesstogetin。
ThenameoftheplacewherethisadventureoccurredwasCemmaes。
CHAPTERLXXVII
TheDeafMan—FuneralProcession—TheLoneFamily—TheWelshandtheirSecrets—TheValeoftheDyfi—TheBrightMoon。
ALITTLEwayfromCemmaesIsawarespectable—lookingoldmanlikealittlefarmer，towhomIsaid：
"HowfartoMachynlleth？"
Lookingatmeinapiteousmannerinthefacehepointedtothesideofhishead，andsaid—"Dimclywed。"
ItwasnolongernoEnglish，butnohearing。
PresentlyImetoneyetmoredeaf。Alargeprocessionofmencamealongtheroad。Somedistancebehindthemwasabandofwomenandbetweenthetwobandswasakindofbierdrawnbyahorsewithplumesateachofthefourcorners。Itookoffmyhatandstoodcloseagainstthehedgeontheright—handsidetillthedeadhadpassedmesomewaytoitsfinalhome。
Crossedariver，whichlikethatontheothersideofCemmaesstreameddownfromagulleybetweentwohillsintothevalleyoftheDyfi。Beyondthebridgeontheright—handsideoftheroadwasaprettycottage，justastherewasintheotherlocality。Afinetallwomanstoodatthedoor，withalittlechildbesideher。I
stoppedandinquiredinEnglishwhosebodyitwasthathadjustbeenborneby。
"Thatofayoungman，sir，thesonofafarmer，wholivesamileorsouptheroad。"
MYSELF。—Heseemstohaveplentyoffriends。
WOMAN。—Ohyes，sir，theWelshhaveplentyoffriendsbothinlifeanddeath。
MYSELF。—A’n’tyouWelsh，then？
WOMAN。—Ohno，sir，IamEnglish，likeyourself，asIsuppose。
MYSELF。—Yes，IamEnglish。WhatpartofEnglanddoyoucomefrom？
WOMAN。—Shropshire，sir。
MYSELF。—Isthatlittlechildyours？
WOMAN。—Yes，sir，itismyhusband’schildandmine。
MYSELF。—IsupposeyourhusbandisWelsh。
WOMAN。—Ohno，sir，weareallEnglish。
MYSELF。—Andwhatisyourhusband？
WOMAN。—Alittlefarmer，sir，hefarmsaboutfortyacresunderMrs—。
MYSELF。—Well，areyoucomfortablehere？
WOMAN。—Ohdearme，no，sir，weareanythingbutcomfortable。
Herewearethreepoorlonecreaturesinastrangeland，withoutasoultospeaktobutoneanother。EverydayofourliveswewishwehadneverleftShropshire。
MYSELF。—Whydon’tyoumakefriendsamongstyourneighbours？
WOMAN。—Oh，sir，theEnglishcannotmakefriendsamongsttheWelsh。TheWelshwon’tneighbourwiththem，orhaveanythingtodowiththem，exceptnowandtheninthewayofbusiness。
MYSELF。—IhaveoccasionallyfoundtheWelshverycivil。
WOMAN。—Ohyes，sir，theycanbecivilenoughtopassers—by，especiallythosewhotheythinkwantnothingfromthem—butifyoucameandsettledamongstthemyouwouldfindthem，I’mafraid，quitethecontrary。
MYSELF。—WouldtheybeunciviltomeifIcouldspeakWelsh？
WOMAN。—Mostparticularly，sir；theWelshdon’tlikeanystrangers，butleastofallthosewhospeaktheirlanguage。
MYSELF。—Haveyoupickedupanythingoftheirlanguage？
WOMAN。—Notaword，sir，normyhusbandneither。Theytakegoodcarethatweshouldn’tpickupawordoftheirlanguage。Istoodtheotherdayandlistenedwhilsttwowomenweretalkingjustwhereyoustandnow，inthehopeofcatchingaword，andassoonastheysawmetheypassedtotheothersideofthebridge，andbeganbuzzingthere。Mypoorhusbandtookitintohisheadthathemightpossiblylearnawordortwoatthepublic—house，sohewentthere，calledforajugofaleandapipe，andtriedtomakehimselfathomejustashemightinEngland，butitwouldn’tdo。Thecompanyinstantlyleftofftalkingtooneanotherandstaredathim，andbeforehecouldfinishhispotandpipetookthemselvesofftoaman，andthencamethelandlord，andaskedhimwhathemeantbyfrighteningawayhiscustomers。Somypoorhusbandcamehomeaspaleasasheet，andsittingdowninachairsaid，"Lord，havemercyuponme！"
MYSELF。—WhyaretheWelshafraidthatstrangersshouldpickuptheirlanguage？
WOMAN。—Lest，perhaps，theyshouldlearntheirsecrets，sir！
MYSELF。—Whatsecretshavethey？
WOMAN。—TheLordaboveonlyknows，sir！
MYSELF。—DoyouthinktheyarehatchingtreasonagainstQueenVictoria？
WOMAN。—Ohdearno，sir。
MYSELF。—Istheremuchmurdergoingonamongstthem？
WOMAN。—Nothingofthekind，sir。
MYSELF。—Cattle—stealing？
WOMAN。—Ohno，sir！
MYSELF。—Pig—stealing？
WOMAN。—No，sir！
MYSELF。—Duckorhenstealing？
WOMAN。—Haven’tlostaduckorhensinceIhavebeenhere，sir。
MYSELF。—Thenwhatsecretscantheypossiblyhave？
WOMAN。—Idon’tknow，sir！perhapsnoneatall，oratmostonlyapackofsmallnonsensethatnobodywouldgivethreefarthingstoknow。However，itisquitecertaintheyareasjealousofstrangershearingtheirdiscourseasiftheywereplottinggunpowdertreasonorsomethingworse。
MYSELF。—Haveyoubeenlonghere？
WOMAN。—OnlysincelastMay，sir！andwehopetogetawaybynext，andreturntoourowncountry，whereweshallhavesomeonetospeakto。
MYSELF。—Good—bye！
WOMAN。—Good—bye，sir，andthankyouforyourconversation；I
haven’thadsuchatreatoftalkformanyawearyday。
TheValeoftheDyfibecamewiderandmorebeautifulasIadvanced。
Theriverranatthebottomamidstgreenandseeminglyrichmeadows。Thehillsonthefarthersidewerecultivatedagreatwayup，andvariousneatfarm—houseswerescatteredhereandthereontheirsides。Atthefootofoneofthemostpicturesqueofthesehillsstoodalargewhitevillage。Iwishedverymuchtoknowitsname，butsawnooneofwhomIcouldinquire。Iproceededforaboutamile，andthenperceivingamanwheelingstonesinabarrowfortherepairingoftheroadIthoughtIwouldinquireofhim。I
didso，butthevillagewasthenoutofsight，andthoughIpointedinitsdirectionanddescribeditssituationIcouldnotgetitsnameoutofhim。AtlastIsaidhastily，"Canyoutellmeyourownname？"
"DafyddTibbot，sir，"saidhe。
"Tibbot，Tibbot，"saidI；"why，youareaFrenchman。"
"Dearieme，sir，"saidtheman，lookingverypleased，"amI，indeed？"
"Yes，youare，"saidI，ratherrepentingofmyhaste，andgivinghimsixpence，Ilefthim。
"I’dbetatrifle，"saidItomyself，asIwalkedaway，thatthispoorcreatureisthedescendantofsomedesperateNormanTibaultwhohelpedtoconquerPowislandunderRogerdeMontgomeryorEarlBaldwin。HowstrikingthattheproudoldNormannamesareatpresentonlybornebypeopleintheloweststation。Here’saTibbotorTibaultharrowingstonesonaWelshroad，andIhaveknownaMortimermunchingpoorcheeseandbreadunderahedgeonanEnglishone。Howcanweaccountforthissavebythesuppositionthatthedescendantsofproud，cruel，andviolentmen—andwhosoproud，cruelandviolent，astheoldNormans—aredoomedbyGodtocometothedogs？"
CametoPontVelinCerrig，thebridgeofthemilloftheCerrig，ariverwhichcomesfoamingdownfrombetweentworockyhills。ThisbridgeisaboutamilefromMachynlleth，atwhichplaceIarrivedataboutfiveo’clockintheevening—acool，brightmoonshininguponme。Iputupattheprincipalinn，whichwasofcoursecalledtheWynstayArms。
CHAPTERLXXVIII
WelshPoems—SessionsBusiness—TheLawyerandhisClient—TheCourt—TheTwoKeepers—TheDefence。
DURINGsupperIwaswaiteduponbyabrisk，buxommaidwhotoldmethathernamewasMaryEvans。Therepastover，Iorderedaglassofwhiskeyandwater，andwhenitwasbroughtIaskedthemaidifshecouldprocuremesomebooktoread。Shesaidshewasnotawareofanybookinthehousewhichshecouldlayherhandonexceptoneofherown，whichifIpleasedshewouldlendme。Ibeggedhertodoso。Whereuponshewentoutandpresentlyreturnedwithaverysmallvolume，whichshelaidonthetableandthenretired。AftertakingasipofmywhiskeyandwaterIproceededtoexamineit。ItturnedouttobeavolumeofWelshpoemsentitled"BlodauGlynDyfi"；or，FlowersofGlynDyfi，byoneLewisMeredith，whosepoeticalnameisLewisGlynDyfi。TheauthorinditeshisprefacefromCemmaes，June，1852。ThebestpieceiscalledDyffrynDyfi，andisdescriptiveofthesceneryofthevalethroughwhichtheDyfiruns。Itcommencesthus：