Just as I began to descend
the eastern side, two men began to descend the opposite one, and it
so happened that we met at the bottom of the dingle, just before
the house, which bore a sign, and over the door of which was an
inscription to the effect that ale was sold within. They saluted
me; I returned their salutation, and then we all three stood still,
looking at one another. One of the men was rather a tall figure,
about forty, dressed in grey, or pepper-and-salt, with a cap of
some kind on his head, his face was long and rather good-looking,
though slightly pock-broken. There was a peculiar gravity upon it.
The other person was somewhat about sixty - he was much shorter
than his companion, and much worse dressed - he wore a hat that had
several holes in it, a dusty rusty black coat, much too large for
him; ragged yellow velveteen breeches, indifferent fustian gaiters,
and shoes, cobbled here and there, one of which had rather an ugly
bulge by the side near the toes. His mouth was exceedingly wide,
and his nose remarkably long; its extremity of a deep purple; upon
his features was a half-simple smile or leer; in his hand was a
long stick. After we had all taken a full view of one another I
said in Welsh, addressing myself to the man in grey, "Pray may I
take the liberty of asking the name of this place."
"I believe you are an Englishman, sir," said the man in grey,
speaking English, "I will therefore take the liberty of answering
your question in the English tongue. The name of this place is
Dyffryn Gaint."
"Thank you," said I; "you are quite right with regard to my being
an Englishman, perhaps you are one yourself?"
"Sir," said the man in grey, "I have not the honour to be so. I am
a native of the small island in which we are."
"Small," said I, "but famous, particularly for producing
illustrious men."
"That's very true indeed, sir," said the man in grey, drawing
himself up; "it is particularly famous for producing illustrious
men."
"There was Owen Tudor?" said I.
"Very true," said the man in grey, "his tomb is in the church a
little way from hence."
"Then," said I, "there was Gronwy Owen, one of the greatest bards
that ever lived. Out of reverence to his genius I went yesterday
to see the place of his birth."
"Sir," said the man in grey, "I should be sorry to leave you
without enjoying your conversation at some length. In yonder house
they sell good ale, perhaps you will not be offended if I ask you
to drink some with me and my friend?"
"You are very kind," said I, "I am fond of good ale and fonder
still of good company - suppose we go in?"
We went into the cottage, which was kept by a man and his wife,
both of whom seemed to be perfectly well acquainted with my two new
friends.
