"Farewell, your hanner, and long life and prosperity to you! God
bless your hanner and your Orange face. Ah, the Orange boys are
the boys for keeping faith. They never served me as Dan O'Connell
and his dirty gang of repalers and emancipators did. Farewell,
your hanner, once more; and here's another scratch of the illigant
tune your hanner is so fond of, to cheer up your hanner's ears upon
your way."
And long after I had left him I could hear him playing on his
fiddle in first-rate style the beautiful tune of "Down, down,
Croppies Lie Down."
CHAPTER XXVI
Ceiniog Mawr - Pentre Voelas - The Old Conway - Stupendous Pass -
The Gwedir Family - Capel Curig - The Two Children - Bread -
Wonderful Echo - Tremendous Walker.
I WALKED on briskly over a flat uninteresting country, and in about
an hour's time came in front of a large stone house. It stood near
the road, on the left-hand side, with a pond and pleasant trees
before it, and a number of corn-stacks behind. It had something
the appearance of an inn, but displayed no sign. As I was standing
looking at it, a man with the look of a labourer, and with a dog by
his side, came out of the house and advanced towards me.
"What is the name of this place?" said I to him in English as he
drew nigh.
"Sir," said the man, "the name of the house is Ceiniog Mawr."
"Is it an inn?" said I.
"Not now, sir; but some years ago it was an inn, and a very large
one, at which coaches used to stop; at present it is occupied by an
amaethwr - that is a farmer, sir."
"Ceiniog Mawr means a great penny," said I, "why is it called by
that name?"
"I have heard, sir, that before it was an inn it was a very
considerable place, namely a royal mint, at which pennies were
made, and on that account it was called Ceiniog Mawr."
I was subsequently told that the name of this place was Cernioge
Mawr. If such be the real name the legend about the mint falls to
the ground, Cernioge having nothing to do with pence. Cern in
Welsh means a jaw. Perhaps the true name of the house is Corniawg,
which interpreted is a place with plenty of turrets or chimneys. A
mile or two further the ground began to rise, and I came to a small
village at the entrance of which was a water-wheel - near the
village was a gentleman's seat almost surrounded by groves. After
I had passed through the village, seeing a woman seated by the
roadside knitting, I asked her in English its name. Finding she
had no Saesneg I repeated the question in Welsh, whereupon she told
me that it was called Pentre Voelas.
"And whom does the 'Plas' belong to yonder amongst the groves?"
said I.
"It belongs to Mr Wynn, sir, and so does the village and a great
deal of the land about here. A very good gentleman is Mr Wynn,
sir; he is very kind to his tenants and a very good lady is Mrs
Wynn, sir; in the winter she gives much soup to the poor."
After leaving the village of Pentre Voelas I soon found myself in a
wild hilly region. I crossed a bridge over a river, which,
brawling and tumbling amidst rocks, shaped its course to the north-
east. As I proceeded, the country became more and more wild; there
were dingles and hollows in abundance, and fantastic-looking hills,
some of which were bare, and others clad with trees of various
kinds. Came to a little well in a cavity, dug in a high bank on
the left-hand side of the road, and fenced by rude stone work on
either side; the well was about ten inches in diameter, and as many
deep. Water oozing from the bank upon a slanting tile fastened
into the earth fell into it. After damming up the end of the tile
with my hand, and drinking some delicious water, I passed on and
presently arrived at a cottage, just inside the door of which sat a
good-looking middle-aged woman engaged in knitting, the general
occupation of Welsh females.
"Good-day," said I to her in Welsh. "Fine weather."
"In truth, sir, it is fine weather for the harvest."
"Are you alone in the house?"
"I am, sir, my husband has gone to his labour."
"Have you any children?"
"Two, sir; but they are out at service."
"What is the name of this place?"
"Pant Paddock, sir."
"Do you get your water from the little well yonder?"
"We do, sir, and good water it is."
"I have drunk of it."
"Much good may what you have drunk do you, sir!"
"What is the name of the river near here?"
"It is called the Conway, sir."
"Dear me; is that river the Conway?"
"You have heard of it, sir?"
"Heard of it! it is one of the famous rivers of the world. The
poets are very fond of it - one of the great poets of my country
calls it the old Conway."
"Is one river older than another, sir?"
"That's a shrewd question. Can you read?"
"I can, sir."
"Have you any books?"
"I have the Bible, sir."
"Will you show it me?"
"Willingly, sir."
Then getting up she took a book from a shelf and handed it to me,
at the same time begging me to enter the house and sit down. I
declined, and she again took her seat and resumed her occupation.
On opening the book the first words which met my eye were: "Gad i
mi fyned trwy dy dir! - Let me go through your country" (Numb. XX.
22).
"I may say these words," said I, pointing to the passage.
