National School - The Young Preacher - Pont Bettws - Spanish Words - Two Tongues, Two Faces - The Elephant's Snout - Llyn Cwellyn -The Snowdon Ranger - My House - Castell y Cidwm - Descent to Beth Gelert.
IT might be about three o'clock in the afternoon when I left Caernarvon for Beth Gelert, distant about thirteen miles. Ijourneyed through a beautiful country of hill and dale, woods and meadows, the whole gilded by abundance of sunshine. After walking about an hour without intermission I reached a village, and asked a man the name of it.
"Llan - something," he replied.
As he was standing before a long building, through the open door of which a sound proceeded like that of preaching, I asked him what place it was, and what was going on in it, and received for answer that it was the National School, and that there was a clergyman preaching in it. I then asked if the clergyman was of the Church, and on learning that he was, I forthwith entered the building, where in one end of a long room I saw a young man in a white surplice preaching from a desk to about thirty or forty people, who were seated on benches before him. I sat down and listened. The young man preached with great zeal and fluency. The sermon was a very seasonable one, being about the harvest, and in it things temporal and spiritual were very happily blended. The part of the sermon which I heard - I regretted that I did not hear the whole -lasted about five-and-twenty minutes: a hymn followed, and then the congregation broke up. I inquired the name of the young man who preached, and was told that it was Edwards, and that he came from Caernarvon. The name of the incumbent of the parish was Thomas.
Leaving the village of the harvest sermon I proceeded on my way which lay to the south-east. I was now drawing nigh to the mountainous district of Eryri; a noble hill called Mount Eilio appeared before me to the north; an immense mountain called Pen Drws Coed lay over against it on the south, just like a couchant elephant with its head lower than the top of its back. After a time I entered a most beautiful sunny valley, and presently came to a bridge over a pleasant stream running in the direction of the south. As I stood upon that bridge I almost fancied myself in Paradise; everything looked so beautiful or grand - green, sunny meadows lay all around me, intersected by the brook, the waters of which ran with tinkling laughter over a shingly bottom. Noble Eilio to the north; enormous Pen Drws Coed to the south; a tall mountain far beyond them to the east. "I never was in such a lovely spot!" I cried to myself in a perfect rapture. "Oh, how glad I should be to learn the name of this bridge, standing on which I have had 'Heaven opened to me,' as my old friends the Spaniards used to say." Scarcely had I said these words when Iobserved a man and a woman coming towards the bridge in the direction in which I was bound. I hastened to meet them in the hope of obtaining information. They were both rather young, and were probably a couple of sweethearts taking a walk or returning from meeting. The woman was a few steps in advance of the man;seeing that I was about to address her, she averted her head and quickened her steps, and before I had completed the question, which I put to her in Welsh, she had bolted past me screaming "Ah Dim Seasneg," and was several yards distant.
I then addressed myself to the man who had stopped, asking him the name of the bridge.
"Pont Bettws," he replied.
"And what may be the name of the river?" said I.
"Afon - something," said he.
And on my thanking him he went forward to the woman who was waiting for him by the bridge.
"Is that man Welsh or English?" I heard her say when he had rejoined her.
"I don't know," said the man - "he was civil enough; why were you such a fool?""Oh, I thought he would speak to me in English," said the woman, "and the thought of that horrid English puts me into such a flutter; you know I can't speak a word of it."They proceeded on their way and I proceeded on mine, and presently coming to a little inn on the left side of the way, at the entrance of a village, I went in.
A respectable-looking man and woman were seated at tea at a table in a nice clean kitchen. I sat down on a chair near the table, and called for ale - the ale was brought me in a jug - I drank some, put the jug on the table, and began to discourse with the people in Welsh. A handsome dog was seated on the ground; suddenly it laid one of its paws on its master's knee.
"Down, Perro," said he.
"Perro!" said I; "why do you call the dog Perro?""We call him Perro," said the man, "because his name is Perro.""But how came you to give him that name?" said I.
"We did not give it to him," said the man - "he bore that name when he came into our hands; a farmer gave him to us when he was very young, and told us his name was Perro.""And how came the farmer to call him Perro?" said I.
