"Never," said I.

"Not been in Wales; then, of course, you don't understand Welsh; but we
were talking of the _Bardd Cwsg_--yes, there are fairies in the _Bardd
Cwsg_--the author of it, Master Ellis Wyn, was carried away in his sleep
by them over mountains and valleys, rivers and great waters, incurring
mighty perils at their hands, till he was rescued from them by an angel
of the Most High, who subsequently showed him many wonderful things."

"I beg your pardon," said I, "but what were those wonderful things?"

"I see, young man," said Peter, smiling, "that you are not without
curiosity; but I can easily pardon anyone for being curious about the
wonders contained in the book of Master Ellis Wyn. The angel showed him
the course of this world, its pomps and vanities, its cruelty and its
pride, its crimes and deceits. On another occasion, the angel showed him
Death in his nether palace, surrounded by his grisly ministers, and by
those who are continually falling victims 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 in 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 [the deep] 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; whereu