; at last a rather good-looking woman, seemingly
about thirty, made her appearance at a door at the farther end of the
kitchen. "Is the mistress at home," said Jones, "or the master?"

"They are neither at home," said the woman, "the master is abroad at his
work, and the mistress is at the farm-house of--three miles off to pick
feathers (trwsio plu)." She asked us to sit down.

"And who are you?" said I.

"I am only a lodger," said she, "I lodge here with my husband who is a
clog-maker."

"Can you speak English?" said I.

"Oh yes," said she, "I lived eleven years in England, at a place called
Bolton, where I married my husband, who is an Englishman."

"Can he speak Welsh?" said I.

"Not a word," said she. "We always speak English together."

John Jones sat down, and I looked about the room. It exhibited no
appearance of poverty; there was plenty of rude but good furniture in it;
several pewter plates and trenchers in a rack, two or three prints in
frames against the wall, one of which was the likeness of no less a
person than the Rev. Joseph Sanders, on the table was a newspaper. "Is
that in Welsh?" said I.

"No," replied the woman, "it is the _Bolton Chronicle_, my husband reads
it."

I sat down in the chimney-corner. The wind was now howling abroad, and
the rain was beating against the cottage panes--presently a gust of wind
came down the chimney, scattering sparks all about. "A cataract of
sparks!" said I, using the word Rhaiadr.

"What is Rhaiadr?" said the woman; "I never heard the word before."

"Rhaiadr means water tumbling over a rock," said John Jones--"did you
never see water tumble over the top of a rock?"

"Frequently," said she.

"Well," said he, "even as the water with its froth tumbles over the rock,
so did sparks and fire tumble over the front of that grate when the wind
blew down the chimney. It was a happy comparison of the Gwr Boneddig,
and with respect to Rhaiadr it is a good old word, though not a common
one; some of the Saxons who have read the old writings, though they
cannot speak the language as fast as we, understand many words and things
which we do not."

"I forgot much of my Welsh in the land of the Saxons," said the woman,
"and so have many others; there are plenty of Welsh at Bolton, but their
Welsh is sadly corrupted."

She then went out and presently returned with an infant in her arms and
sat down. "Was that child born in Wales?" I demanded.

"No," said sh