Fil
means a scudding or darting through the air, which can have nothing
to do with the building of a castle. Caerfili signifies Philip's
City, and was called so after one Philip a saint. It no more means
the castle of haste than Tintagel in Cornwall signifies the castle
of guile, as the learned have said it does, for Tintagel simply
means the house in the gill of the hill, a term admirably
descriptive of the situation of the building.
I started from Caerfili at eleven for Newport, distant about
seventeen miles. Passing through a toll-gate I ascended an
acclivity, from the top of which I obtained a full view of the
castle, looking stern, dark and majestic. Descending the hill I
came to a bridge over a river called the Rhymni or Rumney, much
celebrated in Welsh and English song - thence to Pentref Bettws, or
the village of the bead-house, doubtless so called from its having
contained in old times a house in which pilgrims might tell their
beads.
The scenery soon became very beautiful - its beauty, however, was
to a certain extent marred by a horrid black object, a huge coal
work, the chimneys of which were belching forth smoke of the
densest description. "Whom does that work belong to?" said I to a
man nearly as black as a chimney sweep.
"Who does it belong to? Why, to Sir Charles."
"Do you mean Sir Charles Morgan?"
"I don't know. I only know that it belongs to Sir Charles, the
kindest-hearted and richest man in Wales and in England too."
Passing some cottages I heard a group of children speaking English.
Asked an intelligent-looking girl if she could speak Welsh.
"Yes," said she, "I can speak it, but not very well." There is not
much Welsh spoken by the children hereabout. The old folks hold
more to it.
I saw again the Rhymni river, and crossed it by a bridge; the river
here was filthy and turbid, owing of course to its having received
the foul drainings of the neighbouring coal works. Shortly
afterwards I emerged from the coom or valley of the Rhymni, and
entered upon a fertile and tolerably level district. Passed by
Llanawst and Machen. The day which had been very fine now became
dark and gloomy. Suddenly, as I was descending a slope, a
brilliant party, consisting of four young ladies in riding-habits,
a youthful cavalier and a servant in splendid livery - all on noble
horses, swept past me at full gallop down the hill. Almost
immediately afterwards, seeing a road-mender who was standing
holding his cap in his hand - which he had no doubt just
reverentially doffed - I said in Welsh: "Who are those ladies?"
"Merched Sir Charles - the daughters of Sir Charles," he replied.
"And is the gentleman their brother?"
"No! the brother is in the Crim - fighting with the Roosiaid. I
don't know who yon gentleman be."
"Where does Sir Charles live?"
"Down in the Dyfryn, not far from Basallaig."
"If I were to go and see him," I said, "do you think he would give
me a cup of ale?"
"I daresay he would; he has given me one many a time."
I soon reached Basallaig, a pleasant village standing in a valley
and nearly surrounded by the groves of Sir Charles Morgan. Seeing
a decent public-house I said to myself, "I think I shall step in
and have my ale here, and not go running after Sir Charles, whom
perhaps after all I shouldn't find at home." So I went in and
called for a pint of ale. Over my ale I trifled for about half-an-
hour, then paying my groat I got up and set off for Newport, in the
midst of a thick mist which had suddenly come on, and which
speedily wetted me nearly to the skin.
I reached Newport at about half-past four, and put up at a large
and handsome inn called the King's Head. During dinner the waiter,
unasked, related to me his history. He was a short thick fellow of
about forty, with a very disturbed and frightened expression of
countenance. He said that he was a native of Brummagen, and had
lived very happily at an inn there as waiter, but at length had
allowed himself to be spirited away to an establishment high up in
Wales amidst the scenery. That very few visitors came to the
establishment, which was in a place so awfully lonesome that he
soon became hipped, and was more than once half in a mind to fling
himself into a river which ran before the door and moaned dismally.
That at last he thought his best plan would be to decamp, and
accordingly took French leave early one morning. That after many
frights and much fatigue he had found himself at Newport, and taken
service at the King's Head, but did not feel comfortable, and was
frequently visited at night by dreadful dreams. That he should
take the first opportunity of getting to Brummagen, though he was
afraid that he should not be able to get into his former place,
owing to his ungrateful behaviour. He then uttered a rather
eloquent eulogium on the beauties of the black capital, and wound
up all by saying that he would rather be a brazier's dog at
Brummagen than head waiter at the best establishment in Wales.
After dinner I took up a newspaper and found in it an account of
the battle of Inkerman, which appeared to have been fought on the
fifth of November, the very day on which I had ascended Plynlimmon.
I was sorry to find that my countrymen had suffered dreadfully, and
would have been utterly destroyed but for the opportune arrival of
the French. "In my childhood," said I, "the Russians used to help
us against the French; now the French help us against the Russians.
