He Said
There Was, And That He Would Conduct Us To It.
We directed our
course towards the east, rousing successively, and setting a-
scampering, three large herds of deer - the
Common ones were yellow
and of no particular size - but at the head of each herd we
observed a big old black fellow with immense antlers; one of these
was particularly large, indeed as huge as a bull. We soon came to
the verge of a steep descent, down which we went, not without some
risk of falling. At last we came to a gate; it was locked;
however, on John Jones shouting, an elderly man with his right hand
bandaged, came and opened it. I asked him what was the matter with
his hand, and he told me that he had lately lost three fingers
whilst working at a saw-mill up at the castle. On my inquiring
about the inn he said he was the master of it, and led the way to a
long neat low house, nearly opposite to a little bridge over a
brook, which ran down the valley towards the north. I ordered some
ale and bread-and-butter, and whilst our repast was being got ready
John Jones and I went to the bridge.
"This bridge, sir," said John, "is called Pont y Velin Castell, the
bridge of the Castle Mill; the inn was formerly the mill of the
castle, and is still called Melin y Castell. As soon as you are
over this bridge you are in shire Amwythig, which the Saxons call
Shropshire.
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