"The Bill Of Fare Does Not Tempt You, Sir," Said A Woman Who Made Her Appearance At The Door, Just As I Was About To Turn Away With An Exceedingly Wry Face.

"It does not," said I, "and you ought to be ashamed of yourself to have nothing better to offer to a traveller than a cup of tea.

I am faint; and I want good ale to give me heart, not wishy-washy tea to take away the little strength I have."

"What would you have me do, sir? Glad should I be to have a cup of ale to offer you, but the magistrates, when I applied to them for a licence, refused me one; so I am compelled to make a cup of tea, in order to get a crust of bread. And if you choose to step in, I will make you a cup of tea, not wishy-washy, I assure you, but as good as ever was brewed."

"I had tea for my breakfast at Beth Gelert," said I, "and want no more till to-morrow morning. What's the name of that strange- looking crag across the valley?"

"We call it Craig yr hyll ddrem, sir; which means - I don't know what it means in English."

"Does it mean the crag of the frightful look?"

"It does, sir," said the woman; "ah, I see you understand Welsh. Sometimes it's called Allt Traeth."

"The high place of the sandy channel," said I; "did the sea ever come up here?"

"I can't say, sir; perhaps it did; who knows?"

"I shouldn't wonder," said I, "if there was once an arm of the sea between that crag and this hill.

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