“I am most happy to have met you,” said I; “but tell me how am I to get to Llanfair?” “You must go first,” said he, “to Traeth Coch, which in Saxon is called the ‘Red Sand.’ In the village called the Pentraeth which lies above the sand, I was born; through the village and over the bridge you must pass, and after walking four miles due north you will find yourself in Llanfair eithaf, at the northern extremity of Mon. Farewell! That ever Saxon should ask me about Gronwy Owen, and his birth-place! I scarcely believe you to be a Saxon, but whether you be or not, I repeat farewell.” Coming to the Menai Bridge I asked the man who took the penny toll at the entrance, the way to Pentraeth Coch. “You see that white house by the wood,” said he, pointing some distance into Anglesey; “you must make towards it till you come to a place where there are four cross roads and then you must take the road to the right.” Passing over the bridge I made my way towards the house by the wood which stood on the hill till I came where the four roads met, when I turned to the right as directed. The country through which I passed seemed tolerably well cultivated, the hedge-rows were very high, seeming to spring out of low stone walls. I met two or three gangs of reapers proceeding to their work with scythes in their hands. In about half-an-hour I passed by a farm-house partly surrounded with walnut trees. Still the same high hedges on both sides of the road: are these relics of the sacrificial groves of Mona? thought I to myself. Then I came to a wretched village through which I hurried at the rate of six miles an hour. I then saw a long lofty craggy hill on my right hand towards the east. “What mountain is that?” said I to an urchin playing in the hot dust of the road. “Mynydd Lidiart!” said the urchin, tossing up a handful of the hot dust into the air, part of which in descending fell into my eyes. I shortly afterwards passed by a handsome lodge. I then saw groves, mountain Lidiart forming a noble background. “Who owns this wood?” said I in Welsh to two men who were limbing a felled tree by the roadside. “Lord Vivian,” answered one, touching his hat. “The gentleman is our countryman,” said he to the other after I had passed.