mes let their rooms--to families larger than ours--they
supplied them with every thing--waited on them--_did_ for them--and, as
for the children, there wasn't such a place in the county for nice
fields to play in."

We looked round the room--a good high ceiling, large window. "This is
just the thing--and I am delighted we were told of your house."

"It would have been very delightful, but--but we are full already, and
we expect some of our own family home."

And why didn't you tell us all this before?--we _nearly_ said--and to
this hour, we can't understand why there was such a profuse explanation
of comforts--which _we_ were never destined to partake of.

"But just across the road there is a very nice cottage, where you can
get lodged--and we can supply you with milk, and any thing else you
want."

Oho! there is some hope for us yet; and a few minutes saw us in colloquy
with the old gentleman, the proprietor of the house. With the usual
politeness of the Welsh, he dilated on the pleasure of having agreeable
visitors; and, with the usual Welsh habit of forgetting that people
don't generally travel with beds and blankets, carpets and chairs, and
tables and crockery, on their shoulders, he seemed rather astonished
when the fact of the rooms destined for us being unfurnished was a
considerable drawback. So, in not quite such high spirits as we started,
we returned to the Hay. After a little rest, we again sported our
seven-league boots, and took a solitary ramble across the Wye. A
beautiful rising ground lay in front; and as our main object was to get
up as high as we could, we went on and on, enjoying the increasing
loveliness of the view, and wondering if a country so very charming was
really left entirely destitute of furnished houses, and only enjoyed by
the selfish natives, who had no room for pilgrims from a distance. In a
nest of trees, surrounded on all sides by trimly kept orchards, and
clustering round a venerable church, we came, at a winding of the road,
on one of the most enchanting villages we ever saw. Near the gate of a
modest-looking mansion, we beheld a gentleman in earnest conversation
with a beggar. The beggar was a man of rags and eloquence; the gentleman
was evidently a political economist, and rejected the poor man's
petition "upon principle." A lady, who was at the gentleman's side,
looked at a poor little child the man carried in his arms. "Go to your
own place," said the gentleman; "I never e