birth-place of Gronwy Owen, I by
no means saw my way clearly before me. I knew that he was born in
Anglesey in a parish called Llanfair Mathafarn eithaf, that is St Mary's
of farther Mathafarn--but as to where this Mathafarn lay, north or south,
near or far, I knew positively nothing. Passing through the northern
suburb of Bangor I saw a small house in front of which was written
"post-office" in white letters; before this house underneath a shrub in a
little garden sat an old man reading. Thinking that from this person,
whom I judged to be the post-master, I was as likely to obtain
information with respect to the place of my destination as from any one,
I stopped, and taking off my hat for a moment, inquired whether he could
tell me anything about the direction of a place called Llanfair Mathafarn
eithaf. He did not seem to understand my question, for getting up he
came towards me and asked what I wanted: I repeated what I had said,
whereupon his face became animated.

"Llanfair Mathafarn eithaf!" said he. "Yes, I can tell you about it, and
with good reason, for it lies not far from the place where I was born."

The above was the substance of what he said, and nothing more, for he
spoke in English somewhat broken.

"And how far is Llanfair from here?" said I.

"About ten miles," he replied.

"That's nothing," said I: "I was afraid it was much farther."

"Do you call ten miles nothing," said he, "in a burning day like this? I
think you will be both tired and thirsty before you get to Llanfair,
supposing you go there on foot. But what may your business be at
Llanfair?" said he, looking at me inquisitively. "It is a strange place
to go to, unless you go to buy hogs or cattle."

"I go to buy neither hogs nor cattle," said I, "though I am somewhat of a
judge of both; I go on a more important errand, namely to see the
birth-place of the great Gronwy Owen."

"Are you any relation of Gronwy Owen?" said the old man, looking at me
more inquisitively than before, through a large pair of spectacles which
he wore.

"None whatever," said I.

"Then why do you go to see his parish, it is a very poor one."

"From respect to his genius," said I; "I read his works long ago, and was
delighted with them."

"Are you a Welshman?" said the old man.

"No," said I, "I am no Welshman."

"Can you speak Welsh?" said he, addressing me in that language.

"A little," said I; "but not so well as I can read it."

"Well," said