After A Little Time,
However, This Elemental Hurly-Burly Passed Away, A Rainbow Made Its
Appearance, And The Day Became Comparatively Fine.
Turning to the
south-east under a hill covered with oaks, I left the vale of the
Towey behind me, and soon caught a glimpse of some very lofty hills
which I supposed to be the Black Mountains.
It was a mere glimpse,
for scarcely had I descried them when mist settled down and totally
obscured them from my view.
In about an hour I reached Llangadog, a large village. The name
signifies the church of Gadog. Gadog was a British saint of the
fifth century, who after labouring amongst his own countrymen for
their spiritual good for many years, crossed the sea to Brittany,
where he died. Scarcely had I entered Llangadog when a great
shower of rain came down. Seeing an ancient-looking hostelry I at
once made for it. In a large and comfortable kitchen I found a
middle-aged woman seated by a huge deal table near a blazing fire,
with a couple of large books open before her. Sitting down on a
chair I told her in English to bring me a pint of ale. She did so,
and again sat down to her books, which on inquiry I found to be a
Welsh Bible and Concordance. We soon got into discourse about
religion, but did not exactly agree, for she was a bitter
Methodist, as bitter as her beer, only half of which I could get
down.
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