with a
curiously-formed left eye which she had, went away muttering chair,
chair; leaving me in a large and rather dreary parlour, to which she had
shown me. I felt very fatigued, rather I believe from that unlucky short
cut than from the length of the way, for I had not come more than
eighteen miles. Drawing a chair towards a table I sat down, and placing
my elbows upon the board I leaned my face upon my upturned hands, and
presently fell into a sweet sleep, from which I awoke exceedingly
refreshed just as a maid opened the room door to lay the cloth.

After dinner I got up, went out and strolled about the place. It was
small, and presented nothing very remarkable. Tired of strolling I went
and leaned my back against the wall of the churchyard and enjoyed the
cool of the evening, for evening with its coolness and shadows had now
come on.

As I leaned against the wall, an elderly man came up and entered into
discourse with me. He told me he was a barber by profession, had
travelled all over Wales, and had seen London. I asked him about the
chair of Rhys Goch. He told me that he had heard of some such chair a
long time ago, but could give me no information as to where it stood. I
know not how it happened that he came to speak about my landlady, but
speak about her he did. He said that she was a good kind of woman, but
totally unqualified for business, as she knew not how to charge. On my
observing that that was a piece of ignorance with which few landladies or
landlords either were taxable, he said that however other publicans might
overcharge, undercharging was her foible, and that she had brought
herself very low in the world by it--that to his certain knowledge she
might have been worth thousands instead of the trifle which she was
possessed of, and that she was particularly notorious for undercharging
the English, a thing never before dreamt of in Wales. I told him that I
was very glad that I had come under the roof of such a landlady; the old
barber, however, said that she was setting a bad example, that such
goings on could not last long, that he knew how things would end, and
finally working himself up into a regular tiff left me abruptly without
wishing me good-night.

I returned to the inn, and called for lights; the lights were placed upon
the table in the old-fashioned parlour, and I was left to myself. I
walked up and down the room some time. At length, seeing some old books
lying in a corner,