Refreshed with my draught I proceeded briskly on my way, and in a
little time saw a range of white buildings, diverging from the road
on the right hand, the gable of the first abutting upon it. A kind
of farm-yard was before them. A respectable-looking woman was
standing in the yard. I went up to her and inquired the name of
the place.
"These houses, sir," said she, "are called Tai Hirion Mignaint.
Look over that door and you will see T. H. which letters stand for
Tai Hirion. Mignaint is the name of the place where they stand."
I looked, and upon a stone which formed the lintel of the
middlemost door I read "T. H 1630."
The words Tai Hirion it will be as well to say signify the long
houses.
I looked long and steadfastly at the inscription, my mind full of
thoughts of the past.
"Many a year has rolled by since these houses were built," said I,
as I sat down on a stepping-stone.
"Many indeed, sir," said the woman, "and many a strange thing has
happened."
"Did you ever hear of one Oliver Cromwell?" said I.
