Listened to
them talking in their Carmarthenshire dialect till it was time to
go to rest, when I was conducted to a large chamber where I found
an excellent and clean bed awaiting me, in which I enjoyed a
refreshing sleep, occasionally visited by dreams in which some of
the scenes of the preceding day again appeared before me, but in an
indistinct and misty manner.
Awaking in the very depth of the night I thought I heard the
murmuring of a river; I listened and soon found that I had not been
deceived. "I wonder whether that river is the Cothi," said I, "the
stream of the immortal Lewis. I will suppose that it is" - and
rendered quite happy by the idea, I soon fell asleep again.
I arose about eight and went out to look about me. The village
consists of little more than half-a-dozen houses. The name "Pump
Saint" signifies "Five Saints." Why the place is called so I know
not. Perhaps the name originally belonged to some chapel which
stood either where the village now stands or in the neighbourhood.
The inn is a good specimen of an ancient Welsh hostelry. Its gable
is to the road and its front to a little space on one side of the
way. At a little distance up the road is a blacksmith's shop. The
country around is interesting: on the north-west is a fine wooded
hill - to the south a valley through which flows the Cothi, a fair
river, the one whose murmur had come so pleasingly upon my ear in
the depth of night.
After breakfast I departed for Llandovery. Presently I came to a
lodge on the left-hand beside an ornamental gate at the bottom of
an avenue leading seemingly to a gentleman's seat. On inquiring of
a woman, who sat at the door of the lodge, to whom the grounds
belonged, she said to Mr Johnes, and that if I pleased I was
welcome to see them. I went in and advanced along the avenue,
which consisted of very noble oaks; on the right was a vale in
which a beautiful brook was running north and south. Beyond the
vale to the east were fine wooded hills. I thought I had never
seen a more pleasing locality, though I saw it to great
disadvantage, the day being dull, and the season the latter fall.
Presently, on the avenue making a slight turn, I saw the house, a
plain but comfortable gentleman's seat with wings. It looked to
the south down the dale. "With what satisfaction I could live in
that house," said I to myself, "if backed by a couple of thousands
a-year. With what gravity could I sign a warrant in its library,
and with what dreamy comfort translate an ode of Lewis Glyn Cothi,
my tankard of rich ale beside me. I wonder whether the proprietor
is fond of the old bard and keeps good ale. Were I an Irishman
instead of a Norfolk man I would go in and ask him."
Returning to the road I proceeded on my journey. I passed over
Pont y Rhanedd or the bridge of the Rhanedd, a small river flowing
through a dale, then by Clas Hywel, a lofty mountain which appeared
to have three heads. After walking for some miles I came to where
the road divided into two. By a sign-post I saw that both led to
Llandovery, one by Porth y Rhyd and the other by Llanwrda. The
distance by the first was six miles and a half, by the latter eight
and a half. Feeling quite the reverse of tired I chose the longest
road, namely the one by Llanwrda, along which I sped at a great
rate.
In a little time I found myself in the heart of a romantic winding
dell, overhung with trees of various kinds, which a tall man whom I
met told me was called Cwm Dwr Llanwrda, or the Watery Coom of
Llanwrda; and well might it be called the Watery Coom, for there
were several bridges in it, two within a few hundred yards of each
other. The same man told me that the war was going on very badly,
that our soldiers were suffering much, and that the snow was two
feet deep at Sebastopol.
Passing through Llanwrda, a pretty village with a singular-looking
church, close to which stood an enormous yew, I entered a valley
which I learned was the valley of the Towey. I directed my course
to the north, having the river on my right, which runs towards the
south in a spacious bed, which, however, except in times of flood,
it scarcely half fills. Beautiful hills were on other side, partly
cultivated, partly covered with wood, and here and there dotted
with farm-houses and gentlemen's seats; green pastures which
descended nearly to the river occupying in general the lower parts.
After journeying about four miles amid this kind of scenery I came
to a noble suspension bridge, and crossing it found myself in about
a quarter of an hour at Llandovery.
It was about half-past two when I arrived. I put up at the Castle
Inn and forthwith ordered dinner, which was served up between four
and five. During dinner I was waited upon by a strange old fellow
who spoke Welsh and English with equal fluency.
"What countryman are you?" said I.
"An Englishman," he replied.
"From what part of England?"
"From Herefordshire."
"Have you been long here?"
"Oh yes! upwards of twenty years."
"How came you to learn Welsh?"
"Oh, I took to it and soon picked it up."
"Can you read it?" said I.
