After a little farther conversation I bade the family farewell and left the house. After going down the road a hundred yards I turned back in order to ask permission to gather a leaf from one of the sycamores. Seeing the man who had helped me in my conversation with the old woman standing at the gate, I told him what I wanted, whereupon he instantly tore down a handful of leaves and gave them to me—thrusting them into my coat-pocket I thanked him kindly and departed. Coming to the half-erected house, I again saw the man to whom I had addressed myself for information. I stopped, and speaking Spanish to him, asked how he had acquired the Spanish language. “I have been in Chili, sir,” said he in the same tongue, “and in California, and in those places I learned Spanish.” “What did you go to Chili for?” said I; “I need not ask you on what account you went to California.” “I went there as a mariner,” said the man; “I sailed out of Liverpool for Chili.” “And how is it,” said I, “that being a mariner and sailing in a Liverpool ship you do not speak English?” “I speak English, señor,” said the man, “perfectly well.” “Then how in the name of wonder,” said I, speaking English, “came you to answer me in Spanish? I am an Englishman thorough bred.” “I can scarcely tell you how it was, sir,” said the man scratching his head, “but I thought I would speak to you in Spanish.” “And why not English?” said I. “Why, I heard you speaking Welsh,” said the man, “and as for an Englishman speaking Welsh—” “But why not answer me in Welsh?” said I. “Why, I saw it was not your language, sir,” said the man, “and as I had picked up some Spanish I thought it would be but fair to answer you in it.” “But how did you know that I could speak Spanish?” said I. “I don’t know indeed, sir,” said the man; “but I looked at you, and something seemed to tell me that you could speak Spanish. I can’t tell you how it was, sir,” said he, looking me very innocently in the face, “but I was forced to speak Spanish to you. I was indeed!” “The long and short of it was,” said I, “that you took me for a foreigner, and thought that it would be but polite to answer me in a foreign language.” “I dare say it was so, sir,” said the man. “I dare say it was just as you say.” “How did you fare in California?” said I. “Very fairly indeed, sir,” said the man. “I made some money there, and brought it home, and with part of it I am building this house.” “I am very happy to hear it,” said I, “you are really a remarkable man—few return from California speaking Spanish as you do, and still fewer with money in their pockets.” The poor fellow looked pleased at what I said, more especially at that part of the sentence which touched upon his speaking Spanish well. Wishing him many years of health and happiness in the house he was building, I left him, and proceeded on my path towards Pentraeth Coch.