The noise was caused by the spirits
of the hill in the hope of driving the miner out of his senses.
They very nearly succeeded. I shall never forget how I felt when I
thought I was buried alive. If it were not for those noises in the
hill, the life of a miner would be quite heaven below."
We came to a cottage standing under a hillock, down the side of
which tumbled a streamlet close by the northern side of the
building. The door was open, and inside were two or three females
and some children. "Have you any enwyn?" said the lad, peeping in.
"Oh yes!" said a voice - "digon! digon!" Presently a buxom,
laughing girl brought out two dishes of buttermilk, one of which
she handed to me and the other to the guide. I asked her the name
of the place.
"Gwen Frwd - the 'Fair Rivulet,'" said she.
"Who lives here?"
"A shepherd."
"Have you any English?"
"Nagos!" said she, bursting into a loud laugh. "What should we do
with English here?" After we had drunk the buttermilk I offered the
girl some money, but she drew back her hand angrily, and said:
