We were at first in some perplexity with respect to the disposal of the ecclesiastical cat; it would, of course, not do to leave it in the garden, to the tender mercies of the Calvinistic Methodists of the neighbourhood, more especially those of the flannel manufactory, and my wife and daughter could hardly carry it with them. At length we thought of applying to a young woman of sound Church principles, who was lately married, and lived over the water on the way to the railroad station, with whom we were slightly acquainted, to take charge of the animal; and she, on the first intimation of our wish, willingly acceded to it. So with her poor puss was left, along with a trifle for its milk-money, and with her, as we subsequently learned, it continued in peace and comfort, till one morning it sprang suddenly from the hearth into the air, gave a mew and died. So much for the ecclesiastical cat! The morning of Tuesday was rather fine, and Mr. Ebenezer E—, who had heard of our intended departure, came to invite us to spend the evening at the vicarage. His father had left Llangollen the day before for Chester, where he expected to be detained some days. I told him we should be most happy to come. He then asked me to take a walk. I agreed with pleasure, and we set out, intending to go to Llansilio, at the western end of the valley, and look at the church. The church was an ancient building. It had no spire, but had the little erection on its roof, so usual to Welsh churches, for holding a bell. In the churchyard is a tomb, in which an old squire of the name of Jones was buried about the middle of the last century. There is a tradition about this squire and tomb, to the following effect. After the squire’s death there was a lawsuit about his property, in consequence of no will having been found. It was said that his will had been buried with him in the tomb, which after some time was opened, but with what success the tradition sayeth not. In the evening we went to the vicarage. Besides the family and ourselves, there was Mr. R—, and one or two more. We had a very pleasant party; and as most of those present wished to hear something connected with Spain, I talked much about that country, sang songs of Germania, and related in an abridged form Lope de Vega’s ghost story, which is decidedly the best ghost story in the world.