I subsequently learned that
Dinas was the head-quarters of miners, the neighbourhood abounding
with mines both of lead and stone. I was glad to leave it behind
me. Mallwyd is to the south of Dinas - the way to it is by a
romantic gorge down which flows the Royal Dyfi. As I proceeded
along this gorge the moon rising above Moel Vrith illumined my
path. In about half-an-hour I found myself before the inn at
Mallwyd.
CHAPTER LXXV
Inn at Mallwyd - A Dialogue - The Cumro.
I ENTERED the inn, and seeing a comely-looking damsel at the bar, I
told her that I was in need of supper and a bed. She conducted me
into a neat sanded parlour, where a good fire was blazing, and
asked me what I would have for supper. "Whatever you can most
readily provide," said I; "I am not particular." The maid retired,
and taking off my hat, and disencumbering myself of my satchel, I
sat down before the fire and fell into a doze, in which I dreamed
of some of the wild scenes through which I had lately passed.
I dozed and dozed till I was roused by the maid touching me on the
shoulder and telling me that supper was ready. I got up and
perceived that during my doze she had laid the cloth and put supper
upon the table. It consisted of bacon and eggs. During supper I
had some conversation with the maid.
MYSELF. - Are you a native of this place?
MAID. - I am not, sir; I come from Dinas.
MYSELF. - Are your parents alive?
MAID. - My mother is alive, sir, but my father is dead.
MYSELF. - Where does your mother live?
MAID. - At Dinas, sir.
MYSELF. - How does she support herself?
MAID. - By letting lodgings to miners, sir.
MYSELF. - Are the miners quiet lodgers?
MAID. - Not always, sir; sometimes they get up at night and fight
with each other.
MYSELF. - What does your mother do on those occasions?
MAID. - She draws the quilt over her head, and says her prayers,
sir.
MYSELF. - Why doesn't she get up and part them?
MAID. - Lest she should get a punch or a thwack for her trouble,
sir.
MYSELF. - Of what religion are the miners?
MAID. - They are Methodists, if they are anything; but they don't
trouble their heads much about religion.
MYSELF. - Of what religion are you?
MAID. - I am of the Church, sir.
MYSELF. - Did you always belong to the Church?
MAID. - Not always. When I was at Dinas I used to hear the
preacher, but since I have been here I have listened to the
clergyman.
MYSELF. - Is the clergyman here a good man?
MAID. - A very good man indeed, sir. He lives close by. Shall I
go and tell him you want to speak to him?
MYSELF. - Oh dear me, no! He can employ his time much more
usefully than in waiting upon me.
After supper I sat quiet for about an hour. Then ringing the bell,
I inquired of the maid whether there was a newspaper in the house.
She told me there was not, but that she thought she could procure
me one. In a little time she brought me a newspaper, which she
said she had borrowed at the parsonage. It was the CUMRO, an
excellent Welsh journal written in the interest of the Church. In
perusing its columns I passed a couple of hours very agreeably, and
then went to bed.
CHAPTER LXXVI
Mallwyd and its Church - Sons of Shoemakers - Village Inn -
Dottings.
THE next day was the thirty-first of October, and was rather fine
for the season. As I did not intend to journey farther this day
than Machynlleth, a principal town in Montgomeryshire, distant only
twelve miles, I did not start from Mallwyd till just before noon.
Mallwyd is a small but pretty village. The church is a long
edifice standing on a slight elevation on the left of the road.
Its pulpit is illustrious from having for many years been occupied
by one of the very celebrated men of Wales, namely Doctor John
Davies, author of the great Welsh and Latin dictionary, an
imperishable work. An immense yew tree grows in the churchyard,
and partly overshadows the road with its branches. The parsonage
stands about a hundred yards to the south of the church, near a
grove of firs. The village is overhung on the north by the
mountains of the Arran range, from which it is separated by the
murmuring Dyfi. To the south for many miles the country is not
mountainous, but presents a pleasant variety of hill and dale.
After leaving the village a little way behind me I turned round to
take a last view of the wonderful region from which I had emerged
on the previous evening. Forming the two sides of the pass down
which comes "the royal river" stood the Dinas mountain and Cefn
Coch, the first on the left, and the other on the right. Behind,
forming the background of the pass, appearing, though now some
miles distant, almost in my proximity, stood Pen Dyn. This hill
has various names, but the one which I have noted here, and which
signifies the head of a man, perhaps describes it best. From where
I looked at it on that last day of October it certainly looked like
an enormous head, and put me in mind of the head of Mambrino,
mentioned in the master work which commemorates the achievements of
the Manchegan knight. This mighty mountain is the birthplace of
more than one river. If the Gerres issues from its eastern side,
from its western springs the Maw, that singularly picturesque
stream, which enters the ocean at the place which the Saxons
corruptly call Barmouth and the Cumry with great propriety Aber
Maw, or the disemboguement of the Maw.
