We set out, the two dogs of which I have spoken attending us,
and seemingly very glad to go. We ascended the side of the hog-
backed hill to the north of the Rhyadr. We were about twenty
minutes in getting to the top, close to which stood a stone or
piece of rock, very much resembling a church altar, and about the
size of one. We were now on an extensive moory elevation, having
the brook which forms the Rhyadr a little way on our left. We went
nearly due west, following no path, for path there was none, but
keeping near the brook. Sometimes we crossed water-courses which
emptied their tribute into the brook, and every now and then
ascended and descended hillocks covered with gorse and whin. After
a little time I entered into conversation with my guide. He had
not a word of English.
"Are you married?" said I.
"In truth I am, sir."
"What family have you?"
"I have a daughter."
"Where do you live?"
"At the house of the Rhyadr."
"I suppose you live there as servant?"
"No, sir, I live there as master."
"Is the good woman I saw there your wife?"
"In truth, sir, she is."
"And the young girl I saw your daughter?"
"Yes, sir, she is my daughter."
"And how came the good woman not to tell me you were her husband?"
"I suppose, sir, you did not ask who I was, and she thought you did
not care to know."
"But can you be spared from home?"
"Oh yes, sir, I was not wanted at home."
"What business are you?"
"I am a farmer, sir."
"A sheep farmer?"
"Yes, sir."
"Who is your landlord."
"Sir Watkin."
"Well, it was very kind of you to come with me."
"Not at all, sir; I was glad to come with you, for we are very
lonesome at Rhyadr, except during a few weeks in the summer, when
the gentry come to see the Pistyll.
