No, no! ale like that, your honour,
was never brewed in that trumpery hole Llangollen."
"You seem to have a very low opinion of Llangollen?" said I.
"How can I have anything but a low opinion of it, your honour? A
trumpery hole it is, and ever will remain so."
"Many people of the first quality go to visit it," said I.
"That is because it lies so handy for England, your honour. If it
did not, nobody would go to see it. What is there to see in
Llangollen?"
"There is not much to see in the town, I admit," said I, "but the
scenery about it is beautiful: what mountains!"
"Mountains, your honour, mountains! well, we have mountains too,
and as beautiful as those of Llangollen. Then we have our lake,
our Llyn Tegid, the lake of beauty. Show me anything like that
near Llangollen?"
"Then," said I, "there is your mound, your Tomen Bala. The
Llangollen people can show nothing like that."
Tom Jenkins looked at me for a moment with some surprise, and then
said: "I see you have been here before, sir."
"No," said I, "never, but I have read about the Tomen Bala in
books, both Welsh and English."
"You have, sir," said Tom. "Well, I am rejoiced to see so book-
learned a gentleman in our house. The Tomen Bala has puzzled many
a head. What do the books which mention it say about it, your
honour?"
"Very little," said I, "beyond mentioning it; what do the people
here say of it?"
"All kinds of strange things, your honour."
"Do they say who built it?"
"Some say the Tylwyth Teg built it, others that it was cast up over
a dead king by his people.
