covered with wood. Struck with its beauty I inquired its name. "Moel
Eglwysig, sir," said my guide. "The Moel of the Church," said I. "That
is hardly a good name for it, for the hill is not bald (moel)." "True,
sir," said John Jones. "At present its name is good for nothing, but
estalom (of old) before the hill was planted with trees its name was good
enough. Our fathers were not fools when they named their hills." "I
daresay not," said I, "nor in many other things which they did, for which
we laugh at them, because we do not know the reasons they had for doing
them." We regained the road; the road tended to the north up a steep
ascent. I asked John Jones the name of a beautiful village, which lay
far away on our right, over the glen, and near its top. "Pentref y dwr,
sir" (the village of the water). It is called the village of the water,
because the river below comes down through part of it. I next asked the
name of the hill up which we were going, and he told me Allt Bwlch; that
is, the high place of the hollow road.

This bwlch, or hollow way, was a regular pass, which put me wonderfully
in mind of the passes of Spain. It took us a long time to get to the
top. After resting a minute on the summit we began to descend. My guide
pointed out to me some slate-works, at some distance on our left. "There
is a great deal of work going on there, sir," said he: "all the slates
that you see descending the canal at Llangollen came from there." The
next moment we heard a blast, and then a thundering sound: "Llais craig
yn syrthiaw; the voice of the rock in falling, sir," said John Jones;
"blasting is dangerous and awful work." We reached the bottom of the
descent, and proceeded for two or three miles up and down a rough and
narrow road; I then turned round and looked at the hills which we had
passed over. They looked bulky and huge.

We continued our way, and presently saw marks of a fire in some grass by
the side of the road. "Have the Gipsiaid been there?" said I to my
guide.

"Hardly, sir; I should rather think that the Gwyddelaid (Irish) have been
camping there lately."

"The Gwyddeliad?"

"Yes, sir, the vagabond Gwyddeliad, who at present infest these parts
much, and do much more harm than the Gipsiaid ever did."

"What do you mean by the Gipsiaid?"

"Dark, handsome people, sir, who occasionally used to come about in vans
and carts, the men buying and selling horses, and sometimes tinkering,
wh