“O dear, no, sir,” said the woman, smiling more than before. I gave her something—it was not a sixpence—at which she not only smiled, but curtseyed; then bidding her farewell I went out of the door. I was about to take the broad road, which led round the hill, when she inquired of me where I was going, and on my telling her to Festiniog, she advised me to go by a by-road behind the house, which led over the hill. “If you do, sir,” said she, “you will see some of the finest prospects in Wales, get into the high road again, and save a mile and a half of way.” I told the temperance woman I would follow her advice, whereupon she led me behind the house, pointed to a rugged path, which with a considerable ascent seemed to lead towards the north, and after, giving certain directions, not very intelligible, returned to her temperance temple. CHAPTER XLVII Spanish Proverb—The Short Cut—Predestination—Rhys Goch—Old Crusty—Undercharging—The Cavalier. The Spaniards have a proverb: “No hay atajo sin trabajo,” there is no short cut without a deal of labour. This proverb is very true, as I know by my own experience, for I never took a short cut in my life, and I have taken many in my wanderings, without falling down, getting into a slough, or losing my way. On the present occasion I lost my way, and wandered about for nearly two hours amidst rocks, thickets, and precipices, without being able to find it. The temperance woman, however, spoke nothing but the truth, when she said I should see some fine scenery. From a rock I obtained a wonderful view of the Wyddfa towering in sublime grandeur in the west, and of the beautiful, but spectral, Knicht shooting up high in the north; and from the top of a bare hill I obtained a prospect to the south, noble indeed—waters, forests, hoary mountains, and in the far distance the sea. But all these fine prospects were a poor compensation for what I underwent: I was scorched by the sun, which was insufferably hot, and my feet were bleeding from the sharp points of the rocks, which cut through my boots like razors. At length, coming to a stone wall, I flung myself down under it, and almost thought that I should give up the ghost. After some time, however, I recovered, and, getting up, tried to find my way out of the anialwch. Sheer good fortune caused me to stumble upon a path, by following which I came to a lone farm-house, where a good-natured woman gave me certain directions, by means of which I at last got out of the hot, stony wilderness—for such it was—upon a smooth, royal road. “Trust me again taking any short cuts,” said I, “after the specimen I have just had.” This, however, I had frequently said before, and have said since after taking short cuts—and probably shall often say again before I come to my great journey’s end.