rn for the Saxon, others have not. I have no Saxon, sir, my wife has
digon iawn--my two youngest children speak good Saxon, sir, my eldest son
not a word."

"Well; shall we set out?"

"If you please, sir."

"To what place shall we go?"

"Shall we go to the Pont y Cyssylltau, sir?"

"What is that?"

"A mighty bridge, sir, which carries the Camlas over a valley on its
back."

"Good! let us go and see the bridge of the junction, for that I think is
the meaning in Saxon of Pont y Cyssylltau."

We set out; my guide conducted me along the bank of the Camlas in the
direction of Rhiwabon, that is towards the east. On the way we
discoursed on various subjects, and understood each other tolerably well.
I asked if he had been anything besides a weaver. He told me that when a
boy he kept sheep on the mountain. "Why did you not go on keeping
sheep?" said "I would rather keep sheep than weave."

"My parents wanted me at home, sir," said he; "and I was not sorry to go
home; I earned little, and lived badly."

"A shepherd," said I, "can earn more than five shillings a week."

"I was never a regular shepherd, sir," said he. "But, sir, I would
rather be a weaver with five shillings a week in Llangollen, than a
shepherd with fifteen on the mountain. The life of a shepherd, sir, is
perhaps not exactly what you and some other gentlefolks think. The
shepherd bears much cold and wet, sir, and he is very lonely; no society
save his sheep and dog. Then, sir, he has no privileges. I mean gospel
privileges. He does not look forward to Dydd Sul, as a day of llawenydd,
of joy and triumph, as the weaver does; that is if he is religiously
disposed. The shepherd has no chapel, sir, like the weaver. Oh, sir, I
say again that I would rather be a weaver in Llangollen with five
shillings a week, than a shepherd on the hill with fifteen."

"Do you mean to say," said I, "that you live with your family on five
shillings a week?"

"No, sir. I frequently do little commissions by which I earn something.
Then, sir, I have friends, very good friends. A good lady of our
congregation sent me this morning half-a-pound of butter. The people of
our congregation are very kind to each other, sir."

"That is more," thought I to myself, "than the people of my congregation
are; they are always cutting each other's throats." I next asked if he
had been much about Wales.

"Not much, sir. However, I have been to Pen Caer Gybi, which you cal