I
don't know who yon gentleman be."
"Where does Sir Charles live?"
"Down in the Dyfryn, not far from Basallaig."
"If I were to go and see him," I said, "do you think he would give
me a cup of ale?"
"I daresay he would; he has given me one many a time."
I soon reached Basallaig, a pleasant village standing in a valley
and nearly surrounded by the groves of Sir Charles Morgan. Seeing
a decent public-house I said to myself, "I think I shall step in
and have my ale here, and not go running after Sir Charles, whom
perhaps after all I shouldn't find at home." So I went in and
called for a pint of ale. Over my ale I trifled for about half-an-
hour, then paying my groat I got up and set off for Newport, in the
midst of a thick mist which had suddenly come on, and which
speedily wetted me nearly to the skin.
I reached Newport at about half-past four, and put up at a large
and handsome inn called the King's Head. During dinner the waiter,
unasked, related to me his history. He was a short thick fellow of
about forty, with a very disturbed and frightened expression of
countenance. He said that he was a native of Brummagen, and had
lived very happily at an inn there as waiter, but at length had
allowed himself to be spirited away to an establishment high up in
Wales amidst the scenery.
