"Chiefly in South Wales," said he, "where they speak less Welsh
than here."
I gathered from him that he lived in the house on the hill and was
a farmer. I asked him to what place the road up the valley to the
north led.
"We generally go by that road to Wrexham," he replied; "it is a
short but a wild road through the hills."
After a little discourse on the times, which he told me were not
quite so bad for farmers as they had been, I bade him farewell.
Mounting the hill I passed round the house, as the farmer had
directed me, and turned to the west along a path on the side of the
mountain. A deep valley was on my left, and on my right above me a
thick wood, principally of oak. About a mile further on the path
winded down a descent, at the bottom of which I saw a brook and a
number of cottages beyond it.
I passed over the brook by means of a long slab laid across, and
reached the cottages. I was now as I supposed in Pentre y Dwr, and
a pentre y dwr most truly it looked, for those Welsh words signify
in English the village of the water, and the brook here ran through
the village, in every room of which its pretty murmuring sound must
have been audible. I looked about me in the hope of seeing
somebody of whom I could ask a question or two, but seeing no one,
I turned to the south intending to regain Llangollen by the way of
the monastery. Coming to a cottage I saw a woman, to all
appearance very old, standing by the door, and asked her in Welsh
where I was.
"In Pentre Dwr," said she. "This house, and those yonder,"
pointing to the cottages past which I had come, "are Pentre y Dwr.
There is, however, another Pentre Dwr up the glen yonder," said
she, pointing towards the north - "which is called Pentre Dwr uchaf
(the upper) -this is Pentre Dwr isaf (the lower)."
"Is it called Pentre Dwr," said I, "because of the water of the
brook?"
"Likely enough," said she, "but I never thought of the matter
before."
She was blear-eyed, and her skin, which seemed drawn tight over her
forehead and cheek-bones, was of the colour of parchment. I asked
her how old she was.
"Fifteen after three twenties," she replied; meaning that she was
seventy-five.
From her appearance I should almost have guessed that she had been
fifteen after four twenties. I, however, did not tell her so, for
I am always cautious not to hurt the feelings of anybody,
especially of the aged.
Continuing my way I soon overtook a man driving five or six very
large hogs. One of these which was muzzled was of a truly immense
size, and walked with considerable difficulty on account of its
fatness. I walked for some time by the side of the noble porker,
admiring it. At length a man rode up on horseback from the way we
had come; he said something to the driver of the hogs, who
instantly unmuzzled the immense creature, who gave a loud grunt on
finding his snout and mouth free. From the conversation which
ensued between the two men I found that the driver was the servant
and the other the master.
"Those hogs are too fat to drive along the road," said I at last to
the latter.
"We brought them in a cart as far as the Pentre Dwr," said the man
on horseback, "but as they did not like the jolting we took them
out."
"And where are you taking them to?" said. I.
"To Llangollen," said the man, "for the fair on Monday."
"What does that big fellow weigh?" said I, pointing to the largest
hog.
"He'll weigh about eighteen score," said the man.
"What do you mean by eighteen score?" said I.
"Eighteen score of pounds," said the man.
"And how much do you expect to get for him?"
"Eight pounds; I shan't take less."
"And who will buy him?" said I.
"Some gent from Wolverhampton or about there," said the man; "there
will be plenty of gents from Wolverhampton at the fair."
"And what do you fatten your hogs upon?" said I.
"Oatmeal," said the man.
"And why not on barley-meal?"
"Oatmeal is the best," said the man; "the gents from Wolverhampton
prefer them fattened on oatmeal."
"Do the gents of Wolverhampton," said I, "eat the hogs?"
"They do not," said the man; "they buy them to sell again; and they
like hogs fed on oatmeal best, because they are the fattest."
"But the pork is not the best," said I; "all hog-flesh raised on
oatmeal is bitter and wiry; because do you see - "
"I see you are in the trade," said the man, "and understand a thing
or two."
"I understand a thing or two," said I, "but I am not in the trade.
Do you come from far?"
"From Llandeglo," said the man.
"Are you a hog-merchant?" said I.
"Yes," said he, "and a horse-dealer, and a farmer, though rather a
small one."
"I suppose as you are a horse-dealer," said I, "you travel much
about?"
"Yes," said the man; "I have travelled a good deal about Wales and
England."
"Have you been in Ynys Fon?" said I.
"I see you are a Welshman," said the man.
"No," said I, "but I know a little Welsh."
"Ynys Fon!" said the man. "Yes, I have been in Anglesey more times
than I can tell."
"Do you know Hugh Pritchard," said I, "who lives at Pentraeth
Coch?"
"I know him well," said the man, "and an honest fellow he is."
"And Mr Bos?" said I.
