gh endless time,
Than hear my praises chanted loud
By poets of the vulgar crowd."

I had left the churchyard, and was standing near a kind of garden, at
some little distance from the farm-house, gazing about me and meditating,
when a man came up attended by a large dog. He had rather a youthful
look, was of the middle size, and dark complexioned. He was respectably
dressed, except that upon his head he wore a common hairy cap.

"Good evening," said I to him in Welsh.

"Good evening, gentleman," said he in the same language.

"Have you much English?" said I.

"Very little; I can only speak a few words."

"Are you the farmer?"

"Yes! I farm the greater part of the Strath."

"I suppose the land is very good here?"

"Why do you suppose so?"

"Because the monks built their house here in the old time, and the monks
never built their houses except on good land."

"Well, I must say the land is good; indeed I do not think there is any so
good in Shire Aberteifi."

"I suppose you are surprised to see me here; I came to see the old
Monachlog."

"Yes, gentleman; I saw you looking about it."

"Am I welcome to see it?"

"Croesaw! gwr boneddig, croesaw! many, many welcomes to you, gentleman!"

"Do many people come to see the monastery?"

_Farmer_.--Yes! many gentlefolks come to see it in the summer time.

_Myself_.--It is a poor place now.

_Farmer_.--Very poor, I wonder any gentlefolks come to look at it.

_Myself_.--It was a wonderful place once; you merely see the ruins of it
now. It was pulled down at the Reformation.

_Farmer_.--Why was it pulled down then?

_Myself_.--Because it was a house of idolatry to which people used to
resort by hundreds to worship images. Had you lived at that time you
would have seen people down on their knees before stocks and stones,
worshipping them, kissing them, and repeating pennillion to them.

_Farmer_.--What fools! How thankful I am that I live in wiser days. If
such things were going on in the old Monachlog it was high time to pull
it down.

_Myself_.--What kind of a rent do you pay for your land?

_Farmer_.--Oh, rather a stiffish one.

_Myself_.--Two pounds an acre?

_Farmer_.--Two pound an acre! I wish I paid no more!

_Myself_.--Well, I think that would be quite enough. In the time of the
old monastery you might have had the land at two shillings an acre.

_Farmer_.--Might I? Then those couldn't have been such bad times, after
all.