“Who knows?” said I. “But suppose all that were to happen, what would it signify to you?” “Why then Divil be in my patten if I would not go back to Donnybrook and Dublin, hoist the Orange cockade, and become as good an Orange boy as ever.” “What,” said I, “and give up Popery for the second time?” “I would, your hanner; and why not? for in spite of what I have heard Father Toban say, I am by no means certain that all Protestants will be damned.” “Farewell,” said I. “Farewell, your hanner, and long life and prosperity to you! God bless your hanner and your Orange face. Ah, the Orange boys are the boys for keeping faith. They never served me as Dan O’Connell and his dirty gang of repalers and emancipators did. Farewell, your hanner, once more; and here’s another scratch of the illigant tune your hanner is so fond of, to cheer up your hanner’s ears upon your way.” And long after I had left him I could hear him playing on his fiddle in first-rate style the beautiful tune of “Down, down, Croppies Lie Down.” CHAPTER XXVI Ceiniog Mawr—Pentre Voelas—The Old Conway—Stupendous Pass—The Gwedir Family—Capel Curig—The Two Children—Bread—Wonderful Echo—Tremendous Walker. I walked on briskly over a flat uninteresting country, and in about an hour’s time came in front of a large stone house. It stood near the road, on the left-hand side, with a pond and pleasant trees before it, and a number of corn-stacks behind. It had something the appearance of an inn, but displayed no sign. As I was standing looking at it, a man with the look of a labourer, and with a dog by his side, came out of the house and advanced towards me. “What is the name of this place?” said I to him in English as he drew nigh. “Sir,” said the man, “the name of the house is Ceiniog Mawr.” “Is it an inn?” said I. “Not now, sir; but some years ago it was an inn, and a very large one at which coaches used to stop; at present, it is occupied by an amaethwr—that is a farmer, sir.” “Ceiniog Mawr means a great penny,” said I, “why is it called by that name?” “I have heard, sir, that before it was an inn it was a very considerable place, namely, a royal mint at which pennies were made, and on that account it was called Ceiniog Mawr.”