“In truth, sir, he has; and a very good wife she is.” “Has he children?” “Plenty, sir; and very fine children they are.” “Is he Welsh?” “He is, sir! Cumro pur iawn.” “Farewell,” said I; “I shall never forget you; you are the first tenant I ever heard speak well of his landlord, or any one connected with him.” “Then you have not spoken to the other tenants of Mr. Blicklin, sir. Every tenant of Mr. Blicklin would say the same of him as I have said, and of his wife and his children too. Good day, sir!” I wended on my way; the sun was very powerful; saw cattle in a pool on my right, maddened with heat and flies, splashing and fighting. Presently I found myself with extensive meadows on my right, and a wall of rocks on my left, on a lofty bank below which I saw goats feeding; beautiful creatures they were, white and black, with long, silky hair, and long, upright horns. They were of large size, and very different in appearance from the common race. These were the first goats which I had seen in Wales; for Wales is not at present the land of goats, whatever it may have been. I passed under a crag, exceedingly lofty, and of very frightful appearance. It hung menacingly over the road. With this crag the wall of rocks terminated; beyond it lay an extensive strath, meadow, or marsh, bounded on the east by a lofty hill. The road lay across the marsh. I went forward, crossed a bridge over a beautiful streamlet, and soon arrived at the foot of the hill. The road now took a turn to the right, that is, to the south, and seemed to lead round the hill. Just at the turn of the road stood a small, neat cottage. There was a board over the door with an inscription. I drew nigh and looked at it, expecting that it would tell me that good ale was sold within, and read “Tea made here, the draught which cheers but not inebriates.” I was before what is generally termed a temperance house. “The bill of fare does not tempt you, sir,” said a woman, who made her appearance at the door, just as I was about to turn away with an exceedingly wry face. “It does not,” said I, “and you ought to be ashamed of yourself to have nothing better to offer a traveller than a cup of tea. I am faint; and I want good ale to give me heart, not wishy-washy tea to take away the little strength I have.” “What would you have me do, sir? Glad should I be to have a cup of ale to offer you, but the magistrates, when I applied to them for a license, refused me one; so I am compelled to make a cup of tea in order to get a crust of bread. And if you choose to step in, I will make you a cup of tea, not wishy-washy, I assure you, but as good as ever was brewed.” “I had tea for my breakfast at Bethgelert,” said I, “and want no more till to-morrow morning. What’s the name of that strange-looking crag across the valley?” “We call it Craig yr hyll ddrem, sir; which means— I don’t know what it means in English.” “Does it mean the Crag of the frightful look?”