SoJohnJonesandmyselfsetoffacrosstheBerwyntovisitthebirthplaceofthegreatpoetHuwMorris。WeascendedthemountainbyAlltPaddy。Themorningwasloweringandbeforewehadhalfgottothetopitbegantorain。JohnJoneswasinhisusualgoodspirits。Suddenlytakingmebythearmhetoldmetolooktotherightacrossthegorgetoawhitehouse，whichhepointedout。
　　"Whatisthereinthathouse？"saidI。
　　"Anauntofminelivesthere，"saidhe。
　　Havingfrequentlyheardhimcalloldwomenhisaunts，Isaid，"Everypooroldwomanintheneighbourhoodseemstobeyouraunt。"
　　"Thisisnopooroldwoman，"saidhe，"sheiscyfoethawgiawn，andonlylastweekshesentmeandmyfamilyapoundofbacon，whichwouldhavecostmesixpence—halfpenny，andaboutamonthagoameasureofwheat。"
　　Wepassedoverthetopofthemountain，anddescendingtheothersidereachedLlansanfraid，andstoppedatthepublic—housewherewehadbeenbefore，andcalledfortwoglassesofale。WhilstdrinkingouraleJonesaskedsomequestionsaboutHuwMorrisofthewomanwhoservedus；shesaidthathewasafamouspoet，andthatpeopleofhisbloodwereyetlivinguponthelandswhichhadbelongedtohimatPontyMeibion。Jonestoldherthathiscompanion，thegwrboneddig，meaningmyself，hadcomeinordertoseethebirth—placeofHuwMorris，andthatIwaswellacquaintedwithhisworks，havinggottenthembyheartinLloegr，whenaboy。
　　ThewomansaidthatnothingwouldgivehergreaterpleasurethantohearaSaisrecitepoetryofHuwMorris，whereuponIrecitedanumberofhislinesaddressedtotheGofDu，orblacksmith。Thewomanheldupherhands，andacarterwhowasinthekitchensomewhattheworseforliquor，shoutedapplause。Afteraskingafewquestionsastotheroadweweretotake，weleftthehouse，andinalittletimeenteredthevalleyofCeiriog。Thevalleyisverynarrow，hugehillsoverhangingitonbothsides，thoseontheeastsidelumpyandbare，thoseonthewestprecipitous，andpartiallycladwithwood；thetorrentCeiriogrunsdownit，clingingtotheeastside；theroadistolerablygood，andistothewestofthestream。Shortlyafterwehadenteredthegorge，wepassedbyasmallfarm—houseonourrighthand，withahawthornhedgebeforeit，uponwhichseemstostandapeacock，curiouslycutoutofthorn。PassingonwecametoaplacecalledPandyuchaf，orthehigherFullingmill。Theplacesocalledisacollectionofruinoushouses，whichputmeinmindoftheFullingmillsmentionedin"DonQuixote。"ItiscalledthePandybecausetherewasformerlyafullingmillhere，saidtohavebeenthefirstestablishedinWales；whichisstilltobeseen，butwhichisnolongerworked。Justabovetheoldmillthereisameetingofstreams，theTarwfromthewestrollsdownadarkvalleyintotheCeiriog。
　　AttheentranceofthisvalleyandjustbeforeyoureachthePandy，whichitnearlyoverhangs，isanenormouscrag。AfterIhadlookedattheplaceforsometimewithconsiderableinterestweproceededtowardsthesouth，andinabouttwentyminutesreachedaneatkindofhouse，onourrighthand，whichJohnJonestoldmestoodonthegroundofHuwMorris。Tellingmetowait，hewenttothehouse，andaskedsomequestions。AfteralittletimeIfollowedhimandfoundhimdiscoursingatthedoorwithastoutdameaboutfifty—
　　fiveyearsofage，andastoutbuxomdamselofaboutseventeen，veryshortofstature。
　　"Thisisthegentleman"saidhe，"whowishestoseeanythingtheremaybehereconnectedwithHuwMorris。"
　　Theolddamemademeacurtsey，andsaidinverydistinctWelsh，"Wehavesomethingsinthehousewhichbelongedtohim，andwewillshowthemtothegentlemanwillingly。"
　　"Wefirstofallwishtoseehischair，"saidJohnJones。
　　"Thechairisinawallinwhatiscalledthehenffordd（oldroad），"saidtheoldgentlewoman；"itiscutoutofthestonewall，youwillhavemaybesomedifficultyingettingtoit，butthegirlshallshowittoyou。"Thegirlnowmotionedtoustofollowher，andconductedusacrosstheroadtosomestonesteps，overawalltoaplacewhichlookedlikeaplantation。
　　"Thiswastheoldroad，"saidJones；"buttheplacehasbeenenclosed。Thenewroadisaboveusonourrighthandbeyondthewall。"
　　Wewereinamazeoftangledshrubs，theboughsofwhich，verywetfromtherainwhichwasstillfalling，struckourfaces，asweattemptedtomakeourwaybetweenthem；thegirlledtheway，bare—
　　headedandbare—armed，andsoonbroughtustothewall，theboundaryofthenewroad。Alongthisshewentwithconsiderabledifficulty，owingtothetangledshrubs，andthenatureoftheground，whichwasveryprecipitous，shelvingdowntotheothersideoftheenclosure。Inalittletimewewerewettotheskin，andcoveredwiththedirtofbirds，whichtheyhadleftwhileroostinginthetrees；onwentthegirl，sometimescreeping，andtryingtokeepherselffromfallingbyholdingagainsttheyoungtrees；onceortwiceshefellandweafterher，fortherewasnopath，andtheground，asIhavesaidbeforeveryshelvy；stillasshewenthereyesweredirectedtowardsthewall，whichwasnotalwaysveryeasytobeseen，forthorns，tallnettlesandshrubs，weregrowingupagainstit。Hereandthereshestopped，andsaidsomething，whichIcouldnotalwaysmakeout，forherWelshwasanythingbutclear；
　　atlengthIheardhersaythatshewasafraidwehadpassedthechair，andindeedpresentlywecametoaplacewheretheenclosureterminatedinasharpcorner。
　　"Letusgoback，"saidI；"wemusthavepassedit。"
　　Inowwentfirst，breakingdownwithmyweighttheshrubsnearesttothewall。
　　"Isnotthistheplace？"saidI，pointingtoakindofhollowinthewall，whichlookedsomethingliketheshapeofachair。
　　"Hardly，"saidthegirl，"forthereshouldbeaslabontheback，withletters，butthere’sneitherslabnorlettershere。"
　　Thegirlnowagainwentforward，andweretracedourway，doingthebestwecouldtodiscoverthechair，butalltonopurpose；nochairwastobefound。Wehadnowbeen，asIimagined，half—an—
　　hourintheenclosure，andhadnearlygotbacktotheplacefromwhichwehadsetout，whenwesuddenlyheardthevoiceoftheoldladyexclaiming，"Whatareyedoingthere，thechairisontheothersideofthefield；waitabit，andIwillcomeandshowityou；"gettingoverthestonestile，whichledintothewilderness，shecametous，andwenowwentalongthewallatthelowerend；wehadquiteasmuchdifficultyhereasontheotherside，andinsomeplacesmore，forthenettleswerehigher，theshrubsmoretangled，andthethornsmoreterrible。Theground，however，wasrathermorelevel。Ipitiedthepoorgirlwholedtheway，andwhosefatnakedarmswerebothstungandtorn。Sheatlaststoppedamidstahugegroveofnettles，doingthebestshecouldtoshelterherarmsfromthestingingleaves。
　　"Ineverwasinsuchawildernessinmylife，"saidItoJohnJones，"isitpossiblethatthechairofthemightyHuwisinaplacelikethis；whichseemsnevertohavebeentroddenbyhumanfoot。WelldoestheScripturesay’Dimprophwydywyncaelbarchyneidireihunan。’"
　　Thislastsentencetickledthefancyofmyworthyfriend，theCalvinistic—Methodist，helaughedaloudandrepeateditoverandoveragaintothefemales，withamplifications。
　　"Isthechairreallyhere，"saidI，"orhasitbeendestroyed？ifsuchathinghasbeendoneitisadisgracetoWales。"
　　"Thechairisreallyhere，"saidtheoldlady，"andthoughHuwMoruswasnoprophet，weloveandreverenceeverythingbelongingtohim。GetonLlances，thechaircan’tbefaroff；"thegirlmovedon，andpresentlytheoldladyexclaimed，"There’sthechair，DiolchiDuw！"
　　Iwasthelastofthefile，butInowrushedpastJohnJones，whowasbeforeme，andnexttotheoldlady，andsureenoughtherewasthechair，inthewall，ofhimwhowascalledinhisday，andstilliscalledbythemountaineersofWales，thoughhisbodyhasbeenbelowtheearthinthequietchurch—yardonehundredandfortyyears，EosCeiriog，theNightingaleofCeiriog，thesweetcarollerHuwMorus，theenthusiasticpartizanofCharlesandtheChurchofEngland，andthenever—tiringlampoonerofOliverandtheIndependents。Thereitwas，akindofhollowinthestonewall，inthehenffordd，frontingtothewest，justabovethegorgeatthebottomofwhichmurmursthebrookCeiriog，thereitwas，somethinglikeahalfbarrelchairinagarden，amoulderingstoneslabformingtheseat，andalargeslatestone，theback，onwhichwerecuttheseletters—
　　H。M。B。
　　signifyingHuwMorusBard。
　　"Sitdowninthechair，GwrBoneddig，"saidJohnJones，"youhavetakentroubleenoughtogettoit。"
　　"Do，gentleman，"saidtheoldlady；"butfirstletmewipeitwithmyapron，foritisverywetanddirty。"
　　"Letitbe，"saidI；thentakingoffmyhatIstooduncoveredbeforethechair，andsaidinthebestWelshIcouldcommand，"ShadeofHuwMorus，supposingyourshadehauntstheplacewhichyoulovedsowellwhenalive—aSaxon，oneoftheseedoftheCoilingSerpent，hascometothisplacetopaythatrespecttotruegenius，theDawnDuw，whichheiseverreadytopay。HereadthesongsoftheNightingaleofCeirioginthemostdistantpartofLloegr，whenhewasabrown—hairedboy，andnowthatheisagrey—
　　hairedmanheiscometosayinthisplacethattheyfrequentlymadehiseyesoverflowwithtearsofrapture。"
　　Ithensatdowninthechair，andcommencedrepeatingversesofHuwMorris。AllwhichIdidinthepresenceofthestoutoldlady，theshort，buxomandbare—armeddamsel，andofJohnJonestheCalvinisticweaverofLlangollen，allofwhomlistenedpatientlyandapprovingly，thoughtherainwaspouringdownuponthem，andthebranchesofthetreesandthetopsofthetallnettles，agitatedbythegustsfromthemountainhollows，werebeatingintheirfaces，forenthusiasmisneverscoffedatbythenoblesimple—minded，genuineWelsh，whatevertreatmentitmayreceivefromthecoarse—hearted，sensual，selfishSaxon。
　　Aftersometime，ourpartyreturnedtothehouse—whichputmeverymuchinmindofthefarm—housesofthesubstantialyeomenofCornwall，particularlythatofmyfriendsatPenquite；acomfortablefireblazedinthekitchengrate，thefloorwascomposedoflargeflagsofslate。Inthekitchentheoldladypointedtometheffon，orwalking—stick，ofHuwMorris；itwassupportedagainstabeambythreehooks；Itookitdownandwalkedaboutthekitchenwithit；itwasathinpolishedblackstick，withacromecutintheshapeofaneagle’shead；attheendwasabrassfence。Thekindcreaturethenproducedaswordwithoutascabbard；
　　thisswordwasfoundbyHuwMorrisonthemountain—itbelongedtooneofOliver’sofficerswhowaskilledthere。Itookthesword，whichwasathintwo—edgedone，andseemedtobemadeofverygoodsteel；itputmeinmindofthebladeswhichIhadseenatToledo—
　　theguardwasveryslightlikethoseofallrapiers，andthehiltthecommonold—fashionedEnglishofficer’shilt—therewasnorustontheblade，anditstilllookedadangeroussword。AmanlikeThistlewoodwouldhavewhippeditthroughhisadversaryinatwinkling。IaskedtheoldladyifHuwMorriswasborninthishouse；shesaidno，butalittlefartheronatPontyMeibion；shesaid，however，thatthegroundhadbelongedtohim，andthattheyhadsomeofhisbloodintheirveins。Ishookherbythehand，andgavethechubbybare—armeddamselashilling，pointingtothemarksofthenettlestingsonherfatbacon—likearms。Shelaughed，mademeacurtsey，andsaid："Llaweriawnodiolch。"
　　JohnJonesandIthenproceededtothehouseatPontyMeibion，wherewesawtwomen，oneturningagrind—stone，andtheotherholdinganadzetoit。WeaskedifwewereatthehouseofHuwMorris，andwhethertheycouldtellusanythingabouthim；theymadeusnoanswerbutproceededwiththeiroccupation；JohnJonesthensaidthattheGwrBoneddigwasveryfondoftheversesofHuwMorris，andhadcomeagreatwaytoseetheplacewherehewasborn。Thewheelnowceasedturning，andthemanwiththeadzeturnedhisfacefulluponme—hewasastern—looking，darkman，withblackhair，ofaboutforty；afteramomentortwohesaidthatifIchosetowalkintothehouseIshouldbewelcome。Hethenconductedusintothehouse，acommon—lookingstonetenement，andbadeusbeseated。IaskedhimifhewasadescendantofHuwMorus；hesaidhewas；Iaskedhimhisname，whichhesaidwasHuw—。"HaveyouanyofthemanuscriptsofHuwMorus？"saidI。
　　"None，"saidhe，"butIhaveoneoftheprintedcopiesofhisworks。"
　　Hethenwenttoadrawer，andtakingoutabook，putitintomyhand，andseatedhimselfinablunt，carelessmanner。ThebookwasthefirstvolumeofthecommonWrexhameditionofHuw’sworks；itwasmuchthumbed—IcommencedreadingaloudapiecewhichIhadmuchadmiredinmyboyhood。Iwentonforsometime，mymindquiteoccupiedwithmyreading；atlastliftingmyeyesIsawthemanstandingboltuprightbeforeme，likeasoldierofthedaysofmychildhood，duringthetimethattheadjutantreadprayers；hishatwasnolongeruponhishead，butontheground，andhiseyeswerereverentlyinclinedtothebook。Afterallwhatabeautifulthingitis，nottobe，buttohavebeenagenius。Closingthebook，I
　　askedhimwhetherHuwMorriswasborninthehousewherewewere，andreceivedforanswerthathewasbornaboutwherewestood，butthattheoldhousehadbeenpulleddown，andthatofallthepremisesonlyasmallout—housewascoevalwithHuwMorris。I
　　askedhimthenameofthehouse，andhesaidPontyMeibion。
　　"Butwhereisthebridge？"saidI。
　　"Thebridge，"hereplied，"iscloseby，overtheCeiriog。Ifyouwishtoseeit，youmustgodownyonfield，thehouseiscalledafterthebridge。"Biddinghimfarewell，wecrossedtheroadandgoingdownthefieldspeedilyarrivedatPontyMeibion。ThebridgeisasmallbridgeofonearchwhichcrossesthebrookCeiriog—itisbuiltofroughmoorstone；itismossy，broken，andlooksalmostinconceivablyold；thereisalittleparapettoitabouttwofeethigh。Ontheright—handsideitisshadedbyanash。Thebrookwhenweviewedit，thoughattimesaroaringtorrent，wasstealingalonggently，onbothsidesitisovergrownwithalders，noblehillsriseaboveittotheeastandwest，JohnJonestoldmethatitaboundedwithtrout。IaskedhimwhythebridgewascalledPontyMeibion，whichsignifiesthebridgeofthechildren。"Itwasbuiltoriginallybychildren，"saidhe，"forthepurposeofcrossingthebrook。"
　　"Thatbridge，"saidI，"wasneverbuiltbychildren。"
　　"Thefirstbridge，"saidhe，"wasofwood，andwasbuiltbythechildrenofthehousesabove。"
　　Notquitesatisfiedwithhisexplanation，Iaskedhimtowhatplacethelittlebridgeled，andwastoldthathebelieveditledtoanuplandfarm。Aftertakingalongandwistfulviewofthebridgeandthesceneryaroundit，IturnedmyheadinthedirectionofLlangollen。Theadventuresofthedaywere，however，notfinished。
　　CHAPTERXXI
　　TheGloomyValley—TheLonelyCottage—HappyComparison—Clogs—
　　TheAlderSwamp—TheWoodenLeg—TheMilitiaman—Death—bedVerses。
　　ONreachingtheruinedvillagewherethePandystoodIstopped，andlookedupthegloomyvalleytothewest，downwhichthebrookwhichjoinstheCeiriogatthisplace，descends，whereuponJohnJonessaid，thatifIwishedtogoupitalittlewayheshouldhavegreatpleasureinattendingme，andthatheshouldshowmeacottagebuiltinthehenddull，oroldfashion，towhichhefrequentlywenttoaskfortherent；hebeingemployedbyvariousindividualsinthecapacityofrent—gatherer。IsaidthatIwasafraidthatifhewasarent—collector，bothheandIshouldhaveasorrywelcome。"Nofear，"hereplied，"thepeopleareverygoodpeople，andpaytheirrentveryregularly，"andwithoutsayinganotherwordheledthewayupthevalley。Attheendofthevillage，seeingawomanstandingatthedoorofoneoftheruinouscottages，Iaskedherthenameofthebrook，ortorrent，whichcamedownthevalley。"TheTarw，"saidshe，"andthisvillageiscalledPandyTeirw。"
　　"Whyisthestreamletcalledthebull？"saidI。"IsitbecauseitcomesinwinterweatherroaringdowntheglenandbuttingattheCeiriog？"
　　Thewomanlaughed，andrepliedthatperhapsitwas。Thevalleywaswildandsolitarytoanextraordinarydegree，thebrookortorrentrunninginthemiddleofitcoveredwithaldertrees。Afterwehadproceededaboutafurlongwereachedthehouseoftheoldfashion—
　　itwasarudestonecottagestandingalittleabovetheroadonakindofplatformontheright—handsideoftheglen；therewasapalingbeforeitwithagate，atwhichapigwasscreaming，asifanxioustogetin。"Itwantsitsdinner，"saidJohnJones，andopenedthegateformetopass，takingprecautionsthatthescreamerdidnotenteratthesametime。Weenteredthecottage，verygladtogetintoit，astormofwindandrainhavingjustcomeon。Nobodywasinthekitchenwhenweentered，itlookedcomfortableenough，however，therewasanexcellentfireofwoodandcoals，andaverysnugchimneycorner。JohnJonescalledaloud，butforsometimenooneanswered；atlastarathergood—
　　lookingwoman，seeminglyaboutthirty，madeherappearanceatadooratthefartherendofthekitchen。"Isthemistressathome，"
　　saidJones，"orthemaster？"
　　"Theyareneitherathome，"saidthewoman，"themasterisabroadathiswork，andthemistressisatthefarm—houseof—threemilesofftopickfeathers（trwsioplu）。"Sheaskedustositdown。
　　"Andwhoareyou？"saidI。
　　"Iamonlyalodger，"saidshe，"Ilodgeherewithmyhusbandwhoisaclog—maker。"
　　"CanyouspeakEnglish？"saidI。
　　"Ohyes，"saidshe，"IlivedelevenyearsinEngland，ataplacecalledBolton，whereImarriedmyhusband，whoisanEnglishman。"
　　"CanhespeakWelsh？"saidI。
　　"Notaword，"saidshe。"WealwaysspeakEnglishtogether。"
　　JohnJonessatdown，andIlookedabouttheroom。Itexhibitednoappearanceofpoverty；therewasplentyofrudebutgoodfurnitureinit；severalpewterplatesandtrenchersinarack，twoorthreeprintsinframesagainstthewall，oneofwhichwasthelikenessofnolessapersonthantheRev。JosephSanders，onthetablewasanewspaper。"IsthatinWelsh？"saidI。
　　"No，"repliedthewoman，"itistheBOLTONCHRONICLE，myhusbandreadsit。"
　　Isatdowninthechimney—corner。Thewindwasnowhowlingabroad，andtherainwasbeatingagainstthecottagepanes—presentlyagustofwindcamedownthechimney，scatteringsparksallabout。
　　"Acataractofsparks！"saidI，usingthewordRhaiadr。
　　"WhatisRhaiadr？"saidthewoman；"Ineverheardthewordbefore。"
　　"Rhaiadrmeanswatertumblingoverarock，"saidJohnJones—"didyouneverseewatertumbleoverthetopofarock？"
　　"Frequently，"saidshe。
　　"Well，"saidhe，"evenasthewaterwithitsfrothtumblesovertherock，sodidsparksandfiretumbleoverthefrontofthatgratewhenthewindblewdownthechimney。ItwasahappycomparisonoftheGwrBoneddig，andwithrespecttoRhaiadritisagoodoldword，thoughnotacommonone；someoftheSaxonswhohavereadtheoldwritings，thoughtheycannotspeakthelanguageasfastaswe，understandmanywordsandthingswhichwedonot。"
　　"IforgotmuchofmyWelshinthelandoftheSaxons，"saidthewoman，"andsohavemanyothers；thereareplentyofWelshatBolton，buttheirWelshissadlycorrupted。"
　　Shethenwentoutandpresentlyreturnedwithaninfantinherarmsandsatdown。"WasthatchildborninWales？"Idemanded。
　　"No，"saidshe，"hewasbornatBolton，abouteighteenmonthsago—
　　wehavebeenhereonlyayear。"
　　"DomanyEnglish，"saidI，"marryWelshwives？"
　　"Agreatmany，"saidshe。"PlentyofWelshgirlsaremarriedtoEnglishmenatBolton。"
　　"DotheEnglishmenmakegoodhusbands？"saidI。
　　Thewomansmiledandpresentlysighed。
　　"Herhusband，"saidJones，"isfondofaglassofaleandisoftenatthepublic—house。"
　　"Imakenocomplaint，"saidthewoman，lookingsomewhatangrilyatJohnJones。
　　"Isyourhusbandatall[m.kanbaapp.com]bulkyman？"saidI。
　　"Justso，"saidthewoman。
　　"Thelargestofthetwomenwesawtheothernightatthepublic—
　　houseatLlansanfraid，"saidItoJohnJones。
　　"Idon’tknowhim，"saidJones，"thoughIhaveheardofhim，butI
　　havenodoubtthatwashe。"
　　Iaskedthewomanhowherhusbandcouldcarryonthetradeofaclog—makerinsucharemoteplace—andalsowhetherhehawkedhisclogsaboutthecountry。
　　"Wecallhimaclog—maker，"saidthewoman，"butthetruthisthathemerelycutsdownthewoodandfashionsitintosquares，thesearetakenbyanunder—masterwhosendsthemtothemanufactureratBolton，whoemployshands，whomakethemintoclogs。"
　　"SomeoftheEnglish，"saidJones，"aresopoorthattheycannotaffordtobuyshoes；apairofshoescosttenortwelveshillings，whereasapairofclogsonlycosttwo。"
　　"Isuppose，"saidI，"thatwhatyoucallclogsarewoodenshoes。"
　　"Justso，"saidJones—"theyareprincipallyusedintheneighbourhoodofManchester。"
　　"IhaveseenthematHuddersfield，"saidI，"whenIwasaboyatschoolthere；ofwhatwoodaretheymade？"
　　"Ofthegwern，oraldertree，"saidthewoman，"ofwhichthereisplentyonbothsidesofthebrook。"
　　JohnJonesnowaskedherifshecouldgivehimatamaidofbread；
　　shesaidshecould，"andsomebutterwithit。"
　　Shethenwentoutandpresentlyreturnedwithaloafandsomebutter。
　　"Hadyounotbetterwait，"saidI，"tillwegettotheinnatLlansanfraid？"
　　Thewoman，however，beggedhimtoeatsomebreadandbutterwherehewas，andcuttingaplateful，placeditbeforehim，havingfirstofferedmesomewhichIdeclined。
　　"Butyouhavenothingtodrinkwithit，"saidItohim。
　　"Ifyouplease，"saidthewoman，"Iwillgoforapintofaletothepublic—houseatthePandy，thereisbetteraletherethanattheinnatLlansanfraid。WhenmyhusbandgoestoLlansanfraidhegoeslessforthealethanfortheconversation，becausethereislittleEnglishspokenatthePandyhowevergoodtheale。"
　　JohnJonessaidhewantednoale—andattackingthebreadandbutterspeedilymadeanendofit；bythetimehehaddonethestormwasover，andgettingupIgavethechildtwopence，andleftthecottagewithJones。Weproceededsomewayfartherupthevalley，tillwecametoaplacewherethegrounddescendedalittle。HereJonestouchingmeontheshoulderpointedacrossthestream。Followingwithmyeyethedirectionofhisfinger，Isawtwoorthreesmallshedswithanumberofsmallreddishblocksinregularpilesbeneaththem。Severaltreesfelledfromthesideofthetorrentwerelyingnear，someofthemstrippedoftheirarmsandbark。Asmalltreeformedabridgeacrossthebrooktothesheds。
　　"Itisthere，"saidJohnJones，"thatthehusbandofthewomanwithwhomwehavebeenspeakingworks，fellingtreesfromthealderswampandcuttingthemupintoblocks。Iseethereisnoworkgoingonatpresentorwewouldgoover—thewomantoldmethatherhusbandwasatLlangollen。"
　　"Whatastrangeplacetocometoworkat，"saidI，"outofcrowdedEngland。Hereisnothingtobeheardbutthemurmuringofwatersandtherushingofwinddownthegulleys。Iftheman’sheadisnotfullofpoeticalfancies，whichIsupposeitisnot，asinthatcasehewouldbeunfitforanyusefulemployment，Idon’twonderathisoccasionallygoingtothepublic—house。"
　　Aftergoingalittlefurtheruptheglenandobservingnothingmoreremarkablethanwehadseenalready，weturnedback。BeingovertakenbyanotherviolentshowerjustaswereachedthePandyI
　　thoughtthatwecoulddonobetterthanshelterourselveswithinthepublic—house，andtastetheale，whichthewifeoftheclog—
　　makerhadpraised。Weenteredthelittlehostelrywhichwasoneoftwoorthreeshabby—lookinghouses，standingincontact，closebytheCeiriog。Inakindoflittlebackroom，lightedbyagoodfireandawindowwhichlookeduptheCeiriogvalley，wefoundthelandlady，agentlewomanwithawoodenleg，whoonperceivingmegotupfromachair，andmademethebestcurtseythatIeversawmadebyafemalewithsuchasubstituteforalegoffleshandbone。
　　Therewerethreemen，sittingwithjugsofalenearthemonatablebythefire，twowereseatedonabenchbythewall，andtheotheronasettlewithahighback，whichranfromthewalljustbythedoor，andshieldedthosebythefirefromthedraughtsofthedoorway。Heofthesettlenosoonerbeheldmethanhesprangup，andplacingachairformebythefirebademeinEnglishbeseated，andthenresumedhisownseat。JohnJonessoonfindingachaircameandsatdownbyme，whenIforthwithcalledforaquartofcwrwda。Thelandladybustledaboutonherwoodenlegandpresentlybroughtusthealewithtwoglasses，whichIfilled，andtakingonedranktothehealthofthecompanywhoreturnedusthanks，themanofthesettleinEnglishratherbroken。Presentlyoneofhiscompanionsgettinguppaidhisreckoninganddeparted，theotherremained，astoutyoungfellowdressedsomethinglikeastone—mason，whichindeedIsoondiscoveredthathewas—hewasfaradvancedtowardsastateofintoxicationandtalkedveryincoherentlyaboutthewar，sayingthathehopeditwouldsoonterminate，forthatifitcontinuedhewasafraidhemightstandachanceofbeingshot，ashewasaprivateintheDenbighshireMilitia。ItoldhimthatitwasthedutyofeverygentlemaninthemilitiatobewillingatalltimestolaydownhislifeintheserviceoftheQueen。TheanswerwhichhemadeIcouldnotexactlyunderstand，hisutterancebeingveryindistinctandbroken；itwas，however，madewithsomedegreeofviolence，withtwoorthreeMynDiawls，andablowonthetablewithhisclenchedfist。HethenaskedmewhetherIthoughtthemilitiawouldbeagaincalledout。
　　"Nothingmoreprobable，"saidI。