sing the night at the
'Pump Saint.'"

"Well, then, I would just advise your honour to do no such thing, but to
turn back with me to the village above, where there is an illigant inn
where your honour will be well accommodated."

"Oh, I saw that as I came past," said I; "I don't think there is much
accommodation there."

"Oh, your honour is clane mistaken; there is always an illigant fire and
an illigant bed too."

"Is there only one bed?" said I.

"Oh, yes, there are two beds, one for the accommodation of the people of
the house and the other for that of the visitors."

"And do the visitors sleep together then?" said I.

"Oh yes! unless they wish to be unsociable. Those who are not disposed
to be sociable sleeps in the chimney-corners."

"Ah," said I, "I see it is a very agreeable inn; however, I shall go on
to the 'Pump Saint.'"

"I am sorry for it, your honour, for your honour's sake; your honour
won't be half so illigantly served at the 'Pump Saint' as there above."

"Of what religion are you?" said I.

"Oh, I'm a Catholic, just like your honour, for if I am not clane
mistaken your honour is an Irishman."

"Who is your spiritual director?" said I.

"Why, then, it is just Father Toban, your honour, whom of course your
honour knows."

"Oh yes!" said I; "when you next see him present my respects to him."

"What name shall I mention, your honour?"

"Shorsha Borroo," said I.

"Oh, then I was right in taking your honour for an Irishman. None but a
raal Paddy bears that name. A credit to your honour is your name, for it
is a famous name, {17} and a credit to your name is your honour, for it
is a neat man without a bend you are. God bless your honour and good
night! and may you find dacent quarters in the 'Pump Saint.'"

Leaving Mary Bane I proceeded on my way. The evening was rather fine but
twilight was coming rapidly on. I reached the bottom of the valley and
soon overtook a young man dressed something like a groom. We entered
into conversation. He spoke Welsh and a little English. His Welsh I had
great difficulty in understanding, as it was widely different from that
which I had been accustomed to. He asked me where I was going to; I
replied to the "Pump Saint," and then enquired if he was in service.

"I am," said he.

"With whom do you live?" said I.

"With Mr Johnes of Dol Cothi," he answered.

Struck by the word Cothi, I asked if Dol Cothi was ever called Glyn
Cothi.

"Oh yes,