It is called the 'Knicht,' sir;
and a wondrous hill it is."
"And what is the name of yonder hill opposite to it, to the south,
rising like one big lump."
"I do not know the name of that hill, sir, farther than that I have
heard it called the Great Hill."
"And a very good name for it," said I; "do you live in that house?"
"I do, sir, when I am at home."
"And what occupation do you follow?"
"I am a farmer, though a small one."
"Is your farm your own?"
"It is not, sir: I am not so far rich."
"Who is your landlord?"
"Mr Blicklin, sir. He is my landlord."
"Is he a good landlord?"
"Very good, sir, no one can wish for a better landlord."
"Has he a wife?"
"In truth, sir, he has; and a very good wife she is."
"Has he children?"
"Plenty, sir; and very fine children they are."
"Is he Welsh?"
"He is, sir! Cumro pur iawn."
"Farewell," said I; "I shall never forget you; you are the first
tenant I ever heard speak well of his landlord, or any one
connected with him."
"Then you have not spoken to the other tenants of Mr Blicklin, sir.
Every tenant of Mr Blicklin would say the same of him as I have
said, and of his wife and his children too.
