t makes the air so chill;
For cold, I trow, there is no snow
Like that of Snowdon's hill.

"'A hill most chill is Snowdon's hill,
And wintry is his brow;
From Snowdon's hill the breezes chill
Can freeze the very snow.'"

Such was the harangue which I uttered on the top of Snowdon; to which
Henrietta listened with attention; three or four English, who stood nigh,
with grinning scorn, and a Welsh gentleman with considerable interest.
The latter coming forward shook me by the hand exclaiming--

"Wyt ti Lydaueg?"

"I am not a Llydauan," said I; "I wish I was, or anything but what I am,
one of a nation amongst whom any knowledge save what relates to
money-making and over-reaching is looked upon as a disgrace. I am
ashamed to say that I am an Englishman."

I then returned his shake of the hand; and bidding Henrietta and the
guide follow me, went into the cabin, where Henrietta had some excellent
coffee and myself and the guide a bottle of tolerable ale; very much
refreshed we set out on our return.

A little way from the top, on the right-hand side as you descend, there
is a very steep path running down in a zigzag manner to the pass which
leads to Capel Curig. Up this path it is indeed a task of difficulty to
ascend to the Wyddfa, the one by which we mounted being comparatively
easy. On Henrietta's pointing out to me a plant, which grew on a crag by
the side of this path some way down, I was about to descend in order to
procure it for her, when our guide springing forward darted down the path
with the agility of a young goat, in less than a minute returned with it
in his hand and presented it gracefully to the dear girl, who on
examining it said it belonged to a species of which she had long been
desirous of possessing a specimen. Nothing material occurred in our
descent to Llanberis, where my wife was anxiously awaiting us. The
ascent and descent occupied four hours. About ten o'clock at night we
again found ourselves at Bangor.

CHAPTER XXX

Gronwy Owen--Struggles of Genius--The Stipend.

The day after our expedition to Snowdon I and my family parted; they
returning by railroad to Chester and Llangollen whilst I took a trip into
Anglesey to visit the birth-place of the great poet Goronwy Owen, whose
works I had read with enthusiasm in my early years.

Goronwy or Gronwy Owen, was born in the year 1722, at a place called
Llanfair Mathafarn Eithaf in Anglesey. He was the el