It commences thus:
"Heddychol ddyffryn tlws,"
Peaceful, pretty vale,
and contains many lines breathing a spirit of genuine poetry.
The next day I did not get up till nine, having no journey before
me, as I intended to pass that day at Machynlleth. When I went
down to the parlour I found another guest there, breakfasting. He
was a tall, burly, and clever-looking man of about thirty-five. As
we breakfasted together at the same table we entered into
conversation. I learned from him that he was an attorney from a
town at some distance, and was come over to Machynlleth to the
petty sessions, to be held that day, in order to defend a person
accused of spearing a salmon in the river. I asked him who his
client was.
"A farmer," said he, "a tenant of Lord V-, who will probably
preside over the bench which will try the affair."
"Oh," said I, "a tenant spearing his landlord's fish - that's bad."
"No," said he, "the fish which he speared, that is, which he is
accused of spearing, did not belong to his landlord but to another
person; he hires land of Lord V-, but the fishing of the river
which runs through that land belongs to Sir Watkin."
"Oh, then," said I, "supposing he did spear the salmon I shan't
break my heart if you get him off:
