About three miles from
here, in the north-west part of the valley, is an old edifice. It
is now a farm-house, but was once a splendid abbey, and was called
- "
"The abbey of the vale of the cross," said I, "I have read a deal
about it. Iolo Goch, the bard of your celebrated hero, Owen
Glendower, was buried somewhere in its precincts."
We went on: my companion took me over a stile behind the house
which he had pointed out, and along a path through hazel coppices.
After a little time I inquired whether there were any Papists in
Llangollen.
"No," said he, "there is not one of that family at Llangollen, but
I believe there are some in Flintshire, at a place called Holywell,
where there is a pool or fountain, the waters of which it is said
they worship."
"And so they do," said I, "true to the old Indian superstition, of
which their religion is nothing but a modification. The Indians
and sepoys worship stocks and stones, and the river Ganges, and our
Papists worship stocks and stones, holy wells and fountains."
He put some questions to me about the origin of nuns and friars. I
told him they originated in India, and made him laugh heartily by
showing him the original identity of nuns and nautch-girls, begging
priests and begging Brahmins. We passed by a small house with an
enormous yew-tree before it; I asked him who lived there.
"No one," he replied, "it is to let. It was originally a cottage,
but the proprietors have furbished it up a little, and call it Yew-
tree Villa."
"I suppose they would let it cheap," said I.
"By no means," he replied, "they ask eighty pounds a year for it."
"What could have induced them to set such a rent upon it?" I
demanded.
"The yew-tree, sir, which is said to be the largest in Wales. They
hope that some of the grand gentry will take the house for the
romance of the yew-tree, but somehow or other nobody has taken it,
though it has been to let for three seasons."
We soon came to a road leading east and west.
"This way," said he, pointing in the direction of the west, "leads
back to Llangollen, the other to Offa's Dyke and England."
We turned to the west. He inquired if I had ever heard before of
Offa's Dyke.
"Oh yes," said I, "it was built by an old Saxon king called Offa,
against the incursions of the Welsh."
"There was a time," said my companion, "when it was customary for
the English to cut off the ears of every Welshman who was found to
the east of the dyke, and for the Welsh to hang every Englishman
whom they found to the west of it.
