Conceive this lake to have been the
haunt of the afanc-beaver, that he here built cunningly his house
of trees and clay, and that to this lake the native would come with
his net and his spear to hunt the animal for his precious fur.
Probably if the depths of that pool were searched relics of the
crocodile and the beaver might be found, along with other strange
things connected with the periods in which they respectively lived.
Happy were I if for a brief space I could become a Cingalese that I
might swim out far into that pool, dive down into its deepest part
and endeavour to discover any strange things which beneath its
surface may lie." Much in this guise rolled my thoughts as I lay
stretched on the margin of the lake.
Satiated with musing I at last got up and endeavoured to regain the
road. I found it at last, though not without considerable
difficulty. I passed over moors, black and barren, along a dusty
road till I came to a valley; I was now almost choked with dust and
thirst, and longed for nothing in the world so much as for water;
suddenly I heard its blessed sound, and perceived a rivulet on my
left hand. It was crossed by two bridges, one immensely old and
terribly dilapidated, the other old enough, but in better repair -
went and drank under the oldest bridge of the two. The water
tasted of the peat of the moors, nevertheless I drank greedily of
it, for one must not be over-delicate upon the moors.
Refreshed with my draught I proceeded briskly on my way, and in a
little time saw a range of white buildings, diverging from the road
on the right hand, the gable of the first abutting upon it. A kind
of farm-yard was before them. A respectable-looking woman was
standing in the yard. I went up to her and inquired the name of
the place.
"These houses, sir," said she, "are called Tai Hirion Mignaint.
Look over that door and you will see T. H. which letters stand for
Tai Hirion. Mignaint is the name of the place where they stand."
I looked, and upon a stone which formed the lintel of the
middlemost door I read "T. H 1630."
The words Tai Hirion it will be as well to say signify the long
houses.
I looked long and steadfastly at the inscription, my mind full of
thoughts of the past.
"Many a year has rolled by since these houses were built," said I,
as I sat down on a stepping-stone.
"Many indeed, sir," said the woman, "and many a strange thing has
happened."
"Did you ever hear of one Oliver Cromwell?" said I.
