We crossed the bridge, walked a little way up the hill, which was beautifully wooded, and then retraced our steps to the little inn, where I found my wife and daughter waiting for us, and very hungry. We sat down, John Jones with us, and proceeded to despatch our bread-and-butter and ale. The bread-and-butter were good enough, but the ale poorish. O, for an Act of Parliament to force people to brew good ale! After finishing our humble meal we got up, and having paid our reckoning, went back into the park, the gate of which the landlord again unlocked for us. We strolled towards the north along the base of the hill. The imagination of man can scarcely conceive a scene more beautiful than the one which we were now enjoying. Huge oaks studded the lower side of the hill, towards the top was a belt of forest, above which rose the eastern walls of the castle; the whole forest, castle, and the green bosom of the hill glorified by the lustre of the sun. As we proceeded we again roused the deer, and again saw the three old black fellows, evidently the patriarchs of the herds, with their white, enormous horns; with these ancient gentlefolks I very much wished to make acquaintance, and tried to get near them, but no! they would suffer no such thing; off they glided, their white antlers, like the barked top boughs of old pollards, glancing in the sunshine, the smaller dappled creatures following them bounding and frisking. We had again got very near the castle, when John Jones told me that if we would follow him, he would show us something very remarkable: I asked him what it was. “Llun Cawr,” he replied. “The figure of a giant.” “What giant?” said I. But on this point he could give me no information. I told my wife and daughter what he had said, and finding that they wished to see the figure, I bade John Jones lead us to it. He led us down an avenue just below the eastern side of the castle; noble oaks and other trees composed it, some of them probably near a hundred feet high; John Jones observing me looking at them with admiration, said: “They would make fine chests for the dead, sir.” What an observation! how calculated, amidst the most bounding joy and bliss, to remind man of his doom! A moment before I had felt quite happy, but now I felt sad and mournful. I looked at my wife and daughter, who were gazing admiringly on the beauteous scenes around them, and remembered that, in a few short years at most, we should all three be laid in the cold, narrow house formed of four elm or oaken boards, our only garment the flannel shroud, the cold, damp earth above us instead of the bright, glorious sky. O, how sad and mournful I became! I soon comforted myself, however, by reflecting that such is the will of Heaven, and that Heaven is good.