WOMAN. - Lest, perhaps, they should learn their secrets, sir!
MYSELF. - What secrets have they?
WOMAN. - The Lord above only knows, sir!
MYSELF. - Do you think they are hatching treason against Queen
Victoria?
WOMAN. - Oh dear no, sir.
MYSELF. - Is there much murder going on amongst them?
WOMAN. - Nothing of the kind, sir.
MYSELF. - Cattle-stealing?
WOMAN. - Oh no, sir!
MYSELF. - Pig-stealing?
WOMAN. - No, sir!
MYSELF. - Duck or hen stealing?
WOMAN. - Haven't lost a duck or hen since I have been here, sir.
MYSELF. - Then what secrets can they possibly have?
WOMAN. - I don't know, sir! perhaps none at all, or at most only a
pack of small nonsense that nobody would give three farthings to
know. However, it is quite certain they are as jealous of
strangers hearing their discourse as if they were plotting
gunpowder treason or something worse.
MYSELF. - Have you been long here?
WOMAN. - Only since last May, sir! and we hope to get away by next,
and return to our own country, where we shall have some one to
speak to.
MYSELF. - Good-bye!
WOMAN. - Good-bye, sir, and thank you for your conversation; I
haven't had such a treat of talk for many a weary day.
The Vale of the Dyfi became wider and more beautiful as I advanced.
