here."

"Pray, gentleman, walk in!" said the miller; "we are going to have our
afternoon's meal, and shall be rejoiced if you will join us."

"Yes, do, gentleman," said the miller's wife, for such the good woman
was; "and many a welcome shall you have."

I hesitated, and was about to excuse myself.

"Don't refuse, gentleman!" said both, "surely you are not too proud to
sit down with us?"

"I am afraid I shall only cause you trouble," said I.

"Dim blinder, no trouble," exclaimed both at once; "pray do walk in!"

I entered the house, and the kitchen, parlour, or whatever it was, a nice
little room with a slate floor. They made me sit down at a table by the
window, which was already laid for a meal. There was a clean cloth upon
it, a tea-pot, cups and saucers, a large plate of bread-and-butter, and a
plate, on which were a few very thin slices of brown, watery cheese.

My good friends took their seats, the wife poured out tea for the
stranger and her husband, helped us both to bread-and-butter and the
watery cheese, then took care of herself. Before, however, I could taste
the tea, the wife, seeming to recollect herself, started up, and hurrying
to a cupboard, produced a basin full of snow-white lump sugar, and taking
the spoon out of my hand, placed two of the largest lumps in my cup,
though she helped neither her husband nor herself; the sugar-basin being
probably only kept for grand occasions.

My eyes filled with tears; for in the whole course of my life I had never
experienced so much genuine hospitality. Honour to the miller of Mona
and his wife; and honour to the kind hospitable Celts in general! How
different is the reception of this despised race of the wandering
stranger from that of ---. However, I am a Saxon myself, and the Saxons
have no doubt their virtues; a pity that they should be all uncouth and
ungracious ones!

I asked my kind host his name.

"John Jones," he replied, "Melinydd of Llanfair."

"Is the mill which you work your own property?" I inquired.

"No," he answered, "I rent it of a person who lives close by."

"And how happens it," said I, "that you speak no English?"

"How should it happen," said he, "that I should speak any? I have never
been far from here; my wife who has lived at service at Liverpool can
speak some."

"Can you read poetry?" said I.

"I can read the psalms and hymns that they sing at our chapel," he
replied.

"Then you are not of the Church?" said