If any of my readers have involuntarily passed a night upon a Welsh mountain, they will know what mingled distress and pleasure the dawn produces--distress, because, however cold, wet, and miserable you may have been during the night, the dawn brings with it a change of atmosphere which runs through your bones, and causes your whole frame to shiver; and the waiting for the light, intolerable pleasure, because, with the return of glorious day, come relief and light. The longed-for light at length began to creep amongst the boulders and the heather, and show me once more how wisely I had decided in remaining still, instead of attempting to feel my way in any uncertain direction, surrounded as I was by deep ravines and precipices. Tired, wet through, and with aching bones, I began my peregrination, and after walking some two miles through the hills I espied a cottage, to which I directed my steps in the hope of getting some refreshment. To my surprise and joy, I found a woman at the cottage who was evidently expecting some arrival. I had some difficulty in making the woman understand that I appealed only for a glass of milk. She spoke nothing but Welsh, and appeared much alarmed at my visit. If it had not been for the opportune arrival of two men (peasants), one of whom spoke English, I might have failed to obtain even the modest hospitality I so much needed. After some conversation, in which I described myself and my position without reserve, we were all, within a few minutes, supplied with an ample bowl of hot oatmeal porridge. The cottage was situated in a lonely glen, thickly studded with brushwood, but I could discern no road leading to it. I had made my way across the hills, and on inquiring the distance to the Coach and Horses, I found it was five miles. Feeling that my unaccountable absence must have given rise to some anxiety, I was eager to depart as soon as I had finished breakfast, and with that view had arranged with the peasant to conduct me to the highroad. Suddenly, as we were about to leave the cottage, the door was rudely forced open, and two men, entering, seized me by the collar, saying: "We're looking for _you_." "Then I'm glad you've found me," said I; "for the good people at the Coach and Horses must have been much distressed at my disappearance." "They won't be distressed when they hear that you've got three months for this job." "What do you mean?" "Mean! Why, we mean that we have been a-watching of you all night." "I wish you had made your presence known," said I. "I would have made it worth your while." "Ah, but we don't do business in that way. No, no! a good catch like this for us is better than a good catch of fish is for you. We saw your lights a mile off." I was more puzzled than ever. Except an occasional fusee for my pipe, and the marsh-light, I had passed the whole weary night without seeing a light at all.