I went on, the vale increasing in beauty; there was a considerable
drawback, however: one of those detestable contrivances, a
railroad, was on the farther side - along which trains were
passing, rumbling and screaming.
I saw a bridge on my right hand with five or six low arches over
the river, which was here full of shoals. Asked a woman the name
of the bridge.
"PONT FAWR ei galw, sir."
I was again amongst the real Welsh - this woman had no English.
I passed by several remarkable mountains, both on the south and
northern side of the vale. Late in the afternoon I came to the
eastern extremity of the vale and ascended a height. Shortly
afterwards I reached Rhigos, a small village.
Entering a public-house I called for ale and sat down amidst some
grimy fellows, who said nothing to me and to whom I said nothing -
their discourse was in Welsh and English. Of their Welsh I
understood but little, for it was a strange corrupt jargon.
