There were no songs of birds, no
voices of rills; the only sound I heard was the lowing of a
wretched bullock from a far-off slope.
I went on slowly and heavily; at length I got to the top of this
wretched range - then what a sudden change! Beautiful hills in the
far east, a fair valley below me, and groves and woods on each side
of the road which led down to it. The sight filled my veins with
fresh life, and I descended this side of the hill as merrily as I
had come up the other side despondingly. About half-way down the
hill I came to a small village. Seeing a public-house I went up to
it, and inquired in English of some people within the name of the
village.
"Dolwen," said a dark-faced young fellow of about four-and-twenty.
"And what is the name of the valley?" said I.
"Dolwen," was the answer, "the valley is named after the village."
"You mean that the village is named after the valley," said I, "for
Dolwen means fair valley."
"It may be so," said the young fellow, "we don't know much here."
Then after a moment's pause he said:
