Presently meeting four men I put the same question to the foremost,
a stout, burly, intelligent-looking fellow, of about fifty. He
gave me the same name as the women. I asked if anybody lived upon
it.
"No," said he, "too cold for man."
"Fox?" said I.
"No! too cold for fox."
"Crow?" said I.
"No, too cold for crow; crow would be starved upon it." He then
looked me in the face, expecting probably that I should smile.
I, however, looked at him with all the gravity of a judge,
whereupon he also observed the gravity of a judge, and we continued
looking at each other with all the gravity of judges till we both
simultaneously turned away, he followed by his companions going his
path, and I going mine.
I subsequently remembered that Arenig is mentioned in a Welsh poem,
though in anything but a flattering and advantageous manner. The
writer calls it Arenig ddiffaith or barren Arenig, and says that it
intercepts from him the view of his native land. Arenig is
certainly barren enough, for there is neither tree nor shrub upon
it, but there is something majestic in its huge bulk. Of all the
hills which I saw in Wales none made a greater impression upon me.
Towards evening I arrived at a very small and pretty village in the
middle of which was a tollgate. Seeing an old woman seated at the
door of the gate-house I asked her the name of the village. "I
have no Saesneg!" she screamed out.
"I have plenty of Cumraeg," said I, and repeated my question.
Whereupon she told me that it was called Tref y Talcot - the
village of the tollgate. That it was a very nice village, and that
she was born there. She then pointed to two young women who were
walking towards the gate at a very slow pace and told me they were
English. "I do not know them," said I. The old lady, who was
somewhat deaf, thinking that I said I did not know English, leered
at me complacently, and said that in that case, I was like herself,
for she did not speak a word of English, adding that a body should
not be considered a fool for not speaking English. She then said
that the young women had been taking a walk together, and that they
were much in each other's company for the sake of conversation, and
no wonder, as the poor simpletons could not speak a word of Welsh.
I thought of the beam and mote mentioned in Scripture, and then
cast a glance of compassion on the two poor young women. For a
moment I fancied myself in the times of Owen Glendower, and that I
saw two females, whom his marauders had carried off from Cheshire
or Shropshire to toil and slave in the Welshery, walking together
after the labours of the day were done, and bemoaning their
misfortunes in their own homely English.
Shortly after leaving the village of the tollgate I came to a
beautiful valley. On my right hand was a river the farther bank of
which was fringed with trees; on my left was a gentle ascent, the
lower part of which was covered with rich grass, and the upper with
yellow luxuriant corn; a little farther on was a green grove,
behind which rose up a moel. A more bewitching scene I never
beheld. Ceres and Pan seemed in this place to have met to hold
their bridal. The sun now descending shone nobly upon the whole.
After staying for some time to gaze, I proceeded, and soon met
several carts, from the driver of one of which I learned that I was
yet three miles from Bala. I continued my way and came to a
bridge, a little way beyond which I overtook two men, one of whom,
an old fellow, held a very long whip in his hand, and the other, a
much younger man with a cap on his head, led a horse. When I came
up the old fellow took off his hat to me, and I forthwith entered
into conversation with him. I soon gathered from him that he was a
horsedealer from Bala, and that he had been out on the road with
his servant to break a horse. I astonished the old man with my
knowledge of Welsh and horses, and learned from him - for
conceiving I was one of the right sort, he was very communicative -
two or three curious particulars connected with the Welsh mode of
breaking horses. Discourse shortened the way to both of us, and we
were soon in Bala. In the middle of the town he pointed to a large
old-fashioned house on the right hand, at the bottom of a little
square, and said, "Your honour was just asking me about an inn.
That is the best inn in Wales, and if your honour is as good a
judge of an inn as of a horse, I think you will say so when you
leave it. Prydnawn da 'chwi!"
CHAPTER XLIX
Tom Jenkins - Ale of Bala - Sober Moments - Local Prejudices - The
States - Unprejudiced Man - Welsh Pensilvanian Settlers - Drapery
Line - Evening Saunter.
SCARCELY had I entered the door of the inn when a man presented
himself to me with a low bow. He was about fifty years of age,
somewhat above the middle size, and had grizzly hair and a dark,
freckled countenance, in which methought I saw a considerable dash
of humour. He wore brown clothes, had no hat on his head, and held
a napkin in his hand. "Are you the master of this hotel?" said I.
"No, your honour," he replied, "I am only the waiter, but I
officiate for my master in all things; my master has great
confidence in me, sir."
"And I have no doubt," said I, "that he could not place his
confidence in any one more worthy."
With a bow yet lower than the preceding one the waiter replied with
a smirk and a grimace, "Thanks, your honour, for your good opinion.
