Welsh have appropriately denominated the treachery of the long knives. It will be as well to observe that the Saxons derived their name from the saxes, or long knives, which they wore at their sides, and at the use of which they were terribly proficient." Even so, Borrow's personal vitality triumphs, as it does over his many mistakes, such as Lledach for Clydach, in Welsh orthography. There is perhaps hardly such a thing as prose which shall be accounted perfect by every different age: but what is most important of all, the harmony of style which gradually steals upon the reader and subjects him to incalculable minor effects, is not the property of any one age, but of every age; and Victorian prose in general, and Borrow's in particular, attains it. "Wild Wales" is rough in grain; it can be long-winded, slovenly and dull: but it can also be read; and if the whole, or any large portion, be read continuously it will give a lively and true impression of a beautiful, diverse country, of a distinctive people, and of a number of vivid men and women, including Borrow himself. It is less rich than "The Bible in Spain," less atmospheric than "Lavengro." It is Borrow's for reasons which lie open to the view, not on account of any hidden pervasive quality. Thus what exaggeration there is may easily be seen, as when a fallow deer is described as equal to a bull in size, or when carn-lleidyr is said to be one "who, being without house and home, was more desperate than other thieves, and as savage and brutish as the wolves and foxes with whom he occasionally shared his pillow, the earn." As a rule he keeps us upon an everyday normal plane. The bard of Anglesey and the man who attends upon him come through no ivory gate: "They saluted me; I returned their salutation, and then we all three stood still looking at one another. One of the men was rather a tall figure, about forty, dressed in grey, or pepper-and-salt, with a cap of some kind on his head, his face was long and rather good-looking, though slightly pock-broken. There was a peculiar gravity upon it. The other person was somewhat about sixty--he was much shorter than his companion, and much worse dressed--he wore a hat that had several holes in it, a dusty, rusty black coat, much too large for him; ragged yellow velveteen breeches, indifferent fustian gaiters, and shoes, cobbled here and there, one of which had rather an ugly bulge by the side near the toes. His mouth was exceedingly wide, and his nose remarkably long; its extremity of a deep purple; upon his features was a half-simple smile or leer; in his hand was a long stick." {picture: Dolaucothy House. (From a photograph by Lady Pretyman, by whose kind permission it is reproduced.): page305.jpg} My last example shall be the house of Dolau Cothi, near Pumpsaint, in Caermarthenshire: