"Dear me!" thought I to myself as I walked away; "that I should
once in my days have found shepherd life something as poets have
represented it!"
I saw a mighty mountain at a considerable distance on the right,
the same I believe which I had noted some hours before. I inquired
of my guide whether it was Plynlimmon.
"Oh no!" said he, "that is Gaverse; Pumlimmon is to the left."
"Plynlimmon is a famed hill," said I; "I suppose it is very high."
"Yes!" said he, "it is high; but it is not famed because it is
high, but because the three grand rivers of the world issue from
its breast, the Hafren, the Rheidol, and the Gwy."
Night was now coming rapidly on, attended with a drizzling rain. I
inquired if we were far from Pont Erwyd. "About a mile," said my
guide; "we shall soon be there." We quickened our pace. After a
little time he asked me if I was going farther than Pont Erwyd.
"I am bound for the bridge of the evil man," said I; "but I daresay
I shall stop at Pont Erwyd to-night."
"You will do right," said he; "it is only three miles from Pont
Erwyd to the bridge of the evil man, but I think we shall have a
stormy night."
"When I get to Pont Erwyd," said I, "how far shall I be from South
Wales?"
"From South Wales!" said he; "you are in South Wales now; you
passed the Terfyn of North Wales a quarter of an hour ago."
The rain now fell fast and there was so thick a mist that I could
only see a few yards before me.
