ctims to his power. And, on a third
occasion, the state of the condemned in their place of everlasting
torment.'

'But this was all in his sleep,' said I, 'was it not?'

'Yes,' said Peter, 'in his sleep; and on that account the book is called
_Gweledigaethau y Bardd Cwsg_, or, _Visions of the Sleeping Bard_.'

'I do not care for wonders which occur in sleep,' said I. 'I prefer real
ones; and perhaps, notwithstanding what he says, the man had no visions
at all--they are probably of his own invention.'

'They are substantially true, young man,' said Peter; 'like the dreams of
Bunyan, they are founded on three tremendous facts, Sin, Death, and Hell;
and like his they have done incalculable good, at least in my own
country, in the language of which they are written. Many a guilty
conscience has the _Bardd Cwsg_ aroused with its dreadful sights, its
strong sighs, its puffs of smoke from the pit, and its showers of sparks
from the mouth of the yet lower gulf of--Unknown--were it not for the
_Bardd Cwsg_ perhaps I might not be here.'

'I would sooner hear your own tale,' said I, 'than all the visions of the
_Bardd Cwsg_.'

Peter shook, bent his form nearly double, and covered his face with his
hands. I sat still and motionless, with my eyes fixed upon him.
Presently Winifred descended the hill, and joined us. 'What is the
matter?' said she, looking at her husband, who still remained in the
posture I have described. He made no answer; whereupon, laying her hand
gently on his shoulder, she said, in the peculiar soft and tender tone
which I had heard her use on a former occasion, 'Take comfort, Peter;
what has happened now to afflict thee?' Peter removed his hand from his
face. 'The old pain, the old pain,' said he; 'I was talking with this
young man, and he would fain know what brought me here, he would fain
hear my tale, Winifred--my sin: O pechod Ysprydd Glan! O pechod Ysprydd
Glan!' and the poor man fell into a more fearful agony than before. Tears
trickled down Winifred's face, I saw them trickling by the moonlight, as
she gazed upon the writhing form of her afflicted husband. I arose from
my seat. 'I am the cause of all this,' said I, 'by my folly and
imprudence, and it is thus I have returned your kindness and hospitality;
I will depart from you and wander my way.' I was retiring, but Peter
sprang up and detained me. 'Go not,' said he, 'you were not in fault; if
there be any fault in the case it was min