Cup of Coffee - Gwen - Bluff old Fellow - A Rabble Rout - All from Wrexham.
AFTER a while I arose from my seat and descending the hill returned to the house of my honest friends, whom I found sitting by their fire as I had first seen them.
"Well," said the man, "did you bring back Owen Glendower?""Not only him," said I, "but his house, family, and all relating to him.""By what means?" said the man.
"By means of a song made a long time ago, which describes Sycharth as it was in his time, and his manner of living there."Presently Gwen, who had been preparing coffee in expectation of my return, poured out a cupful, which she presented to me, at the same time handing me some white sugar in a basin.
I took the coffee, helped myself to some sugar, and returned her thanks in her own language.
"Ah," said the man, in Welsh, "I see you are a Cumro. Gwen and Ihave been wondering whether you were Welsh or English; but I see you are one of ourselves.""No," said I in the same language, "I am an Englishman, born in a part of England the farthest of any from Wales. In fact, I am a Carn Sais.""And how came you to speak Welsh?" said the man.
"I took it into my head to learn it when I was a boy," said I.
"Englishmen sometimes do strange things.""So I have heard," said the man, "but I never heard before of an Englishman learning Welsh."I proceeded to drink my coffee, and having finished it, and had a little more discourse I got up, and having given Gwen a piece of silver, which she received with a smile and a curtsey, I said Imust now be going, "Won't you take another cup?" said Gwen, "you are welcome.""No, thank you," said I, "I have had enough.""Where are you going?" said the man in English.
"To Llan Rhyadr," said I, "from which I came this morning.""Which way did you come?" said the man.
"By Llan Gedwin," I replied, "and over the hill. Is there another way?""There is," said the man, "by Llan Silin.""Llan Silin!" said I; "is not that the place where Huw Morris is buried?""It is," said the man.
"I will return by Llan Silin," said I, "and in passing through pay a visit to the tomb of the great poet. Is Llan Silin far off?""About half a mile," said the man. "Go over the bridge, turn to the right, and you will be there presently."I shook the honest couple by the hand and bade them farewell. The man put on his hat and went with me a few yards from the door, and then proceeded towards the factory. I passed over the bridge, under which was a streamlet, which a little below the bridge received the brook which once turned Owen Glendower's corn-mill. Isoon reached Llan Silin, a village or townlet, having some high hills at a short distance to the westward, which form part of the Berwyn.
I entered the kitchen of an old-fashioned public-house, and sitting down by a table told the landlord, a red-nosed elderly man, who came bowing up to me, to bring me a pint of ale. The landlord bowed and departed. A bluff-looking old fellow, somewhat under the middle size, sat just opposite to me at the table. He was dressed in a white frieze coat, and had a small hat on his head set rather consequentially on one side. Before him on the table stood a jug of ale, between which and him lay a large crabstick. Three or four other people stood or sat in different parts of the room.
Presently the landlord returned with the ale.
"I suppose you come on sessions business, sir?" said he, as he placed it down before me.
"Are the sessions being held here to-day?" said I.
