The hill is evidently the work of art, and
appeared to me to be some burying-place of old.
"And this is the hill of Owain Glyndwr?" said I.
"Dyma Mont Owain Glyndwr, sir, lle yr oedd yn sefyll i edrych am ei
elvnion yn dyfod o Gaer Lleon. This is the hill of Owain
Glendower, sir, where he was in the habit of standing to look out
for his enemies coming from Chester."
"I suppose it was not covered with trees then?" said I.
"No, sir; it has not been long planted with trees. They say,
however, that the oaks which hang over the river are very old."
"Do they say who raised this hill?"
"Some say that God raised it, sir; others that Owain Glendower
raised it. Who do you think raised it?"
"I believe that it was raised by man, but not by Owen Glendower.
He may have stood upon it, to watch for the coming of his enemies,
but I believe it was here long before his time, and that it was
raised over some old dead king by the people whom he had governed."
"Do they bury kings by the side of rivers, sir?"
"In the old time they did, and on the tops of mountains; they burnt
their bodies to ashes, placed them in pots and raised heaps of
earth or stones over them. Heaps like this have frequently been
opened, and found to contain pots with ashes and bones."
"I wish all English could speak Welsh, sir."
"Why?"
"Because then we poor Welsh who can speak no English could learn
much which we do not know."
Descending the monticle we walked along the road together. After a
little time I asked my companion of what occupation he was and
where he lived.
"I am a small farmer, sir," said he, "and live at Llansanfraid Glyn
Dyfrdwy across the river."
"How comes it," said I, "that you do not know English?"
"When I was young," said he, "and could have easily learnt it, I
cared nothing about it, and now that I am old and see its use, it
is too late to acquire it."
"Of what religion are you?" said I.
"I am of the Church," he replied.
I was about to ask him if there were many people of his persuasion
in these parts; before, however, I could do so he turned down a
road to the right which led towards a small bridge, and saying that
was his way home, bade me farewell and departed.
I arrived at Corwen which is just ten miles from Llangollen and
which stands beneath a vast range of rocks at the head of the
valley up which I had been coming, and which is called Glyndyfrdwy,
or the valley of the Dee water.
