asked him his name, which he said was Huw--. "Have you any of the
manuscripts of Huw Morus?" said I.

"None," said he, "but I have one of the printed copies of his works."

He then went to a drawer, and taking out a book, put it into my hand, and
seated himself in a blunt, careless manner. The book was the first
volume of the common Wrexham edition of Huw's works; it was much
thumbed--I commenced reading aloud a piece which I had much admired in my
boyhood. I went on for some time, my mind quite occupied with my
reading; at last lifting my eyes I saw the man standing bolt upright
before me, like a soldier of the days of my childhood, during the time
that the adjutant read prayers; his hat was no longer upon his head, but
on the ground, and his eyes were reverently inclined to the book. After
all what a beautiful thing it is, not to be, but to have been a genius.
Closing the book, I asked him whether Huw Morris was born in the house
where we were, and received for answer that he was born about where we
stood, but that the old house had been pulled down, and that of all the
premises only a small out-house was coeval with Huw Morris. I asked him
the name of the house, and he said Pont y Meibion.

"But where is the bridge?" said I.

"The bridge," he replied, "is close by, over the Ceiriog. If you wish to
see it, you must go down yon field, the house is called after the
bridge." Bidding him farewell, we crossed the road and going down the
field speedily arrived at Pont y Meibion. The bridge is a small bridge
of one arch which crosses the brook Ceiriog--it is built of rough moor
stone; it is mossy, broken, and looks almost inconceivably old; there is
a little parapet to it about two feet high. On the right-hand side it is
shaded by an ash. The brook when we viewed it, though at times a roaring
torrent, was stealing along gently, on both sides it is overgrown with
alders, noble hills rise above it to the east and west, John Jones told
me that it abounded with trout. I asked him why the bridge was called
Pont y Meibion, which signifies the bridge of the children. "It was
built originally by children," said he, "for the purpose of crossing the
brook."

"That bridge," said I, "was never built by children."

"The first bridge," said he, "was of wood, and was built by the children
of the houses above."

Not quite satisfied with his explanation, I asked him to what place the
little bridge led, and was told that he