purchasers of these seemed to be Englishmen, tall burly fellows in general, far exceeding the Welsh in height and size.
Much business in the cattle-line did not seem, however, to be going on. Now and then a big fellow made an offer, and held out his hand for a little Pictish grazier to give it a slap – a cattle bargain being concluded by a slap of the hand – but the Welshman generally turned away, with a half-resentful exclamation. There were a few horses and ponies in a street leading into the fair from the south.
I saw none sold, however. A tall athletic figure was striding amongst them, evidently a jockey and a stranger, looking at them and occasionally asking a slight question of one or another of their proprietors, but he did not buy. He might in age be about eight-and-twenty, and about six feet and three-quarters of an inch in height; in build he was perfection itself – a better-built man I never saw. He wore a cap and a brown jockey coat, trowsers, leggings and highlows, and sported a single spur. He had whiskers – all jockeys should have whiskers – but he had what I did not like, and what no genuine jockey should have, a moustache, which looks coxcombical and Frenchified – but most things have terribly changed since I was young. Three or four hardy-looking fellows, policemen, were gliding about in their blue coats and leather hats, holding their thin walking-sticks behind them; conspicuous amongst whom was the leader, a tall lathy North Briton with a keen eye and hard features. Now if I add there was much gabbling of Welsh round about, and here and there some slight sawing of English – that in the street leading from the north there were some stalls of gingerbread and a table at which a queer-looking being with a red Greek-looking cap on his head, sold rhubarb, herbs, and phials containing the Lord knows what, and who spoke a low vulgar English dialect, – I repeat, if I add this, I think I have said all that is necessary about Llangollen Fair.
CHAPTER XXIII
An Expedition – Pont y Pandy – The Sabbath – Glendower’s Mount – Burial-place of Old – Corwen – The Deep Glen – The Grandmother – The Roadside Chapel.
I was now about to leave Llangollen, for a short time, and to set out on an expedition to Bangor, Snowdon, and one or two places in Anglesea. I had determined to make the journey on foot, in order that I might have perfect liberty of action, and enjoy the best opportunities of seeing the country. My wife and daughter were to meet me at Bangor, to which place they would repair by the railroad, and from which, after seeing some of the mountain districts, they would return to Llangollen by the way they came, where I proposed to rejoin them, returning, however, by a different way from the one I went, that I might traverse new districts. About eleven o’clock of a brilliant Sunday morning I left Llangollen, after reading the morning-service of the Church to my family. I set out on a Sunday because I was anxious to observe the general demeanour of the people, in the interior of the country, on the Sabbath.
I directed my course towards the west, to the head of the valley. My wife and daughter after walking with me about a mile bade me farewell, and returned. Quickening my pace I soon left Llangollen valley behind me and entered another vale, along which the road which I was following, and which led to Corwen and other places, might be seen extending for miles. Lumpy hills were close upon my left, the Dee running noisily between steep banks, fringed with trees, was on my right; beyond it rose hills which form part of the wall of the vale of Clwyd; their tops bare, but their sides pleasantly coloured with yellow corn-fields and woods of dark verdure. About an hour’s walking, from the time when I entered the valley, brought me to a bridge over a gorge, down which water ran to the Dee. I stopped and looked over the side of the bridge nearest to the hill. A huge rock about forty feet long, by twenty broad, occupied the entire bed of the gorge, just above the bridge, with the exception of a little gullet to the right, down which between the rock and a high bank, on which stood a cottage, a run of water purled and brawled. The rock looked exactly like a huge whale lying on its side, with its back turned towards the runnel. Above it was a glen with trees. After I had been gazing a little time a man making his appearance at the door of the cottage just beyond the bridge, I passed on, and drawing nigh to him, after a slight salutation, asked him in English the name of the bridge.
“The name of the bridge, sir,” said the man, in very good English, “is Pont y Pandy.”
“Does not that mean the bridge of the fulling mill?”
“I believe it does, sir,” said the man.
“Is there a fulling mill near?”
“No, sir, there was one some time ago, but it is now a sawing mill.”
Here a woman, coming out, looked at me steadfastly.
“Is that gentlewoman your wife?”
“She is no gentlewoman, sir, but she is my wife.”
“Of what religion are you?”
“We are Calvinistic Methodists, sir.”
“Have you been to chapel?”
“We are just returned, sir.”
Here the woman said something to her husband, which I did not hear, but the purport of which I guessed from the following question which he immediately put.
“Have you been to chapel, sir?”
“I do not go to chapel; I belong to the Church.”
“Have you been to church, sir?”
“I have not – I said my prayers at home, and then walked out.”
“It is not right to walk out on the Sabbath day, except to go to church or chapel.”
“Who told you so?”
“The law of God, which says you shall keep holy the Sabbath day.”
“I am not keeping it unholy.”
“You are walking about, and in Wales when we see a person walking idly about, on the Sabbath day, we are in the habit of saying Sabbath breaker; where are you going?”
“The Son of Man walked through the fields on the Sabbath day, why should I not walk along the roads?”
“He who called Himself the Son of Man was God, and could do what He pleased, but you are not God.”
“But He came in the shape of a man to set an example. Had there been anything wrong in walking about on the Sabbath day, He would not have done it.”
Here the wife exclaimed, “How worldly-wise these English are!”
“You do not like the English,” said I.
“We do not dislike them,” said the woman; “at present they do us no harm, whatever they did of old.”
“But you still consider them,” said I, “the seed of Y Sarfes cadwynog, the coiling serpent.”
“I should be loth to call any people the seed of the serpent,” said the woman.
“But one of your great bards did,” said I.
“He must have belonged to the Church, and not to the chapel then,” said the woman. “No person who went to chapel would have used such bad words.”
“He lived,” said I, “before people were separated into those of the Church, and the chapel; did you ever hear of Taliesin Ben Beirdd?”
“I never did,” said the woman.
“But
