"Ah, you speak Cumraeg: I thought no Sais could speak
Cumraeg." I asked him if he was going far.
"About four miles," he replied.
"On the Bangor road?"
"Yes," said he; "down the Bangor road."
I learned that he was a carpenter, and that he had been up the
gully to see an acquaintance - perhaps a sweetheart. We passed a
lake on our right which he told me was called Llyn Ogwen, and that
it abounded with fish. He was very amusing, and expressed great
delight at having found an Englishman who could speak Welsh; "it
will be a thing to talk of," said he, "for the rest of my life."
He entered two or three cottages by the side of the road, and each
time he came out I heard him say: "I am with a Sais who can speak
Cumraeg." At length we came to a gloomy-looking valley trending
due north; down this valley the road ran, having an enormous wall
of rocks on its right and a precipitous hollow on the left, beyond
which was a wall equally high as the other one. When we had
proceeded some way down the road my guide said. "You shall now
hear a wonderful echo," and shouting "taw, taw," the rocks replied
in a manner something like the baying of hounds.
