turn to the north, I found myself with a low stone wall on my left, on
the verge of a profound ravine, and a high bank covered with trees on my
right. Projecting out over the ravine was a kind of looking place,
protected by a wall, forming a half-circle, doubtless made by the
proprietor of the domain for the use of the admirers of scenery. There I
stationed myself, and for some time enjoyed one of the wildest and most
beautiful scenes imaginable. Below me was the deep narrow glen or
ravine, down which a mountain torrent roared and foamed. Beyond it was a
mountain rising steeply, its nearer side, which was in deep shade, the
sun having long sunk below its top, hirsute with all kinds of trees, from
the highest pinnacle down to the torrent's brink. Cut on the top surface
of the wall, which was of slate, and therefore easily impressible by the
knife, were several names, doubtless those of tourists, who had gazed
from the look-out on the prospect, amongst which I observed in remarkably
bold letters that of T . . . .

"Eager for immortality, Mr T.," said I; "but you are no H. M., no Huw
Morris."

Leaving the looking place I proceeded, and, after one or two turnings,
came to another, which afforded a view if possible yet more grand,
beautiful and wild, the most prominent objects of which were a kind of
devil's bridge flung over the deep glen and its foaming water, and a
strange-looking hill beyond it, below which, with a wood on either side,
stood a white farm-house--sending from a tall chimney a thin misty reek
up to the sky. I crossed the bridge, which, however diabolically
fantastical it looked at a distance, seemed when one was upon it, capable
of bearing any weight, and soon found myself by the farm-house past which
the way led. An aged woman sat on a stool by the door.

"A fine evening," said I in English.

"Dim Saesneg;" said the aged woman.

"Oh, the blessing of being able to speak Welsh," said I; and then
repeated in that language what I had said to her in the other tongue.

"I daresay," said the aged woman, "to those who can see."

"Can you not see?"

"Very little. I am almost blind."

"Can you not see me?"

"I can see something tall and dark before me; that is all."

"Can you tell me the name of the bridge?"

"Pont y Glyn bin--the bridge of the glen of trouble."

"And what is the name of this place?"

"Pen y bont--the head of the bridge."

"What is your own name?"

"Catherine Hughes."