Oats and Methodism - The Little Girl - Ty Gwyn - Bird of the Roof -Purest English - Railroads - Inconsistency - The Boots.
IT might be about four in the afternoon when I left L- bound for Pen Caer Gybi, or Holyhead, seventeen miles distant. I reached the top of the hill on the west of the little town, and then walked briskly forward. The country looked poor and mean - on my right was a field of oats, on my left a Methodist chapel - oats and Methodism! what better symbols of poverty and meanness?
I went onward a long way, the weather was broiling hot, and I felt thirsty. On the top of a long ascent stood a house by the roadside. I went to the door and knocked - no answer - "Oes neb yn y ty?" said I.
"Oes!" said an infantine voice.
I opened the door and saw a little girl. "Have you any water?"said I.
"No," said the child, "but I have this," and she brought me some butter-milk in a basin. I just tasted it, gave the child a penny and blessed her.
"Oes genoch tad?"
"No," said she; "but I have a mam." Tad in mam; blessed sounds; in all languages expressing the same blessed things.
After walking for some hours I saw a tall blue hill in the far distance before me. "What is the name of that hill?" said I to a woman whom I met.
"Pen Caer Gybi," she replied.
Soon after I came to a village near to a rocky gully. On inquiring the name of the village, I was told it was Llan yr Afon, or the church of the river. I passed on; the country was neither grand nor pretty - it exhibited a kind of wildness, however, which did not fail to interest me - there were stones, rocks and furze in abundance. Turning round the corner of a hill, I observed through the mists of evening, which began to gather about me, what seemed to be rather a genteel house on the roadside; on my left, and a little way behind it a strange kind of monticle, on which I thought I observed tall upright stones. Quickening my pace, I soon came parallel with the house, which as I drew nigh, ceased to look like a genteel house, and exhibited an appearance of great desolation.
It was a white, or rather grey structure of some antiquity. It was evidently used as a farm-house, for there was a yard adjoining to it, in which were stacks and agricultural implements. Observing two men in the yard, I went in. They were respectable, farm-looking men, between forty and fifty; one had on a coat and hat, the other a cap and jacket. "Good evening," I said in Welsh.
"Good evening," they replied in the same language, looking inquiringly at me.
"What is the name of this place?" said I.
"It is called Ty gwyn," said the man of the hat.
"On account of its colour, I suppose?" said I.
"Just so," said the man of the hat.
"It looks old," said I.
"And it is old," he replied. "In the time of the Papists it was one of their chapels.""Does it belong to you?" I demanded.
"Oh no, it belongs to one Mr Sparrow from Liverpool. I am his bailiff, and this man is a carpenter who is here doing a job for him."Here ensued a pause, which was broken by the man of the hat saying in English, to the man of the cap:
"Who can this strange fellow be? he has not a word of English, and though he speaks Welsh his Welsh sounds very different from ours.
Who can he be?"
"I am sure I don't know," said the other.
"I know who he is," said the first, "he comes from Llydaw, or Armorica, which was peopled from Britain estalom, and where I am told the real old Welsh language is still spoken.""I think I heard you mention the word Llydaw?" said I, to the man of the hat.
"Ah," said the man of the hat, speaking Welsh, "I was right after all; oh, I could have sworn you were Llydaweg. Well, how are the descendants of the ancient Britons getting on in Llydaw?""They are getting on tolerably well," said I, "when I last saw them, though all things do not go exactly as they could wish.""Of course not," said he of the hat. "We too have much to complain of here; the lands are almost entirely taken possession of by Saxons, wherever you go you will find them settled, and a Saxon bird of the roof must build its nest in Gwyn dy.""You call a sparrow in your Welsh a bird of the roof, do you not?"said I.
"We do," said he of the hat. "You speak Welsh very well considering you were not born in Wales. It is really surprising that the men of Llydaw should speak the iaith so pure as they do.""The Welsh when they went over there," said I, "took effectual means that their descendants should speak good Welsh, if all tales be true.""What means?" said he of the hat.
"Why," said I; "after conquering the country they put all the men to death, and married the women, but before a child was born they cut out all the women's tongues, so that the only language the children heard when they were born was pure Cumraeg. What do you think of that?""Why, that it was a cute trick," said he of the hat.
"A more clever trick I never heard," said the man of the cap.
"Have you any memorials in the neighbourhood of the old Welsh?"said I.
"What do you mean?" said the man of the hat.
"Any altars of the Druids?" said I; "any stone tables?""None," said the man of the hat.
"What may those stones be?" said I, pointing to the stones which had struck my attention.
"Mere common rocks," said the man.
"May I go and examine them?" said I.
"Oh yes!" said he of the hat, "and we will go with you."We went to the stones, which were indeed common rocks, and which when I reached them presented quite a different appearance from that which they presented to my eye when I viewed them from afar.
"Are there many altars of the Druids in Llydaw?" said the man of the hat.
"Plenty," said I, "but those altars are older than the time of the Welsh colonists, and were erected by the old Gauls.""Well," said the man of the cap, "I am glad I have seen the man of Llydaw.""Whom do you call a man of Llydaw?" said I.
"Whom but yourself?" said he of the hat.