rom which an old family, now almost extinct,
derived its name. How came a Paston into Ynys Fon? Are there any people
bearing that name at present in these parts?"

"Not that I am aware," said Pritchard,

"I wonder who his wife Ann was?" said I, "from the style of that tablet
she must have been a considerable person."

"Perhaps she was the daughter of the Lewis family of Llan Dyfnant," said
Pritchard; "that's an old family and a rich one. Perhaps he came from a
distance and saw and married a daughter of the Lewis of Dyfnant--more
than one stranger has done so. Lord Vivian came from a distance and saw
and married a daughter of the rich Lewis of Dyfnant."

I shook honest Pritchard by the hand, thanked him for his kindness and
wished him farewell, whereupon he gave mine a hearty squeeze, thanking me
for my custom.

"Which is my way," said I, "to Pen Caer Gybi?"

"You must go about a mile on the Bangor road, and then turning to the
right pass through Penmynnydd, but what takes you to Holyhead?"

"I wish to see," said I, "the place where Cybi the tawny saint preached
and worshipped. He was called tawny because from his frequent walks in
the blaze of the sun his face had become much sun-burnt. This is a
furiously hot day, and perhaps by the time I get to Holyhead, I may be so
sun-burnt as to be able to pass for Cybi himself."

CHAPTER XXXVI

Moelfre--Owain Gwynedd--Church of Penmynnydd--The Rose of Mona.

Leaving Pentraeth Coch I retraced my way along the Bangor road till I
came to the turning on the right. Here I diverged from the aforesaid
road, and proceeded along one which led nearly due west; after travelling
about a mile I stopped, on the top of a little hill; cornfields were on
either side, and in one an aged man was reaping close to the road; I
looked south, west, north and east; to the south was the Snowdon range
far away, with the Wyddfa just discernible; to the west and north was
nothing very remarkable, but to the east or rather north-east, was
mountain Lidiart and the tall hill confronting it across the bay.

"Can you tell me," said I to the old reaper, "the name of that bald hill,
which looks towards Lidiart?"

"We call that hill Moelfre," said the old man desisting from his labour,
and touching his hat.

"Dear me," said I; "Moelfre, Moelfre!"

"Is there anything wonderful in the name, sir?" said the old man smiling.

"There is nothing wonderful in the name," said I, "which merely