my shadow far over it.

This cataract was in the neighbourhood of a singular-looking rock,
projecting above the lake from the mountain's side. I wandered a
considerable way without meeting or seeing a single human being. At last
when I had nearly gained the eastern end of the valley I saw two men
seated on the side of the hill, on the verge of the road, in the vicinity
of a house which stood a little way up the hill. The lake here was much
wider than I had hitherto seen it, for the huge mountain on the south had
terminated and the lake expanded considerably in that quarter, having
instead of the black mountain a beautiful hill beyond it.

I quickened my steps and soon came up to the two individuals. One was an
elderly man, dressed in a smock frock and with a hairy cap on his head.
The other was much younger, wore a hat, and was dressed in a coarse suit
of blue nearly new, and doubtless his Sunday's best. He was smoking a
pipe. I greeted them in English and sat down near them. They responded
in the same language, the younger man with considerable civility and
briskness, the other in a tone of voice denoting some reserve.

"May I ask the name of this lake?" said I, addressing myself to the young
man who sat between me and the elderly one.

"Its name is Llyn Cwellyn, sir," said he, taking the pipe out of his
mouth. "And a fine lake it is."

"Plenty of fish in it?" I demanded.

"Plenty, sir; plenty of trout and pike and char."

"Is it deep?" said I.

"Near the shore it is shallow, sir, but in the middle and near the other
side it is deep, so deep that no one knows how deep it is."

"What is the name," said I, "of the great black mountain there on the
other side?"

"It is called Mynydd Mawr or the Great Mountain. Yonder rock, which
bulks out from it, down the lake yonder, and which you passed as you came
along, is called Castell Cidwm, which means Wolf's rock or castle."

"Did a wolf ever live there?" I demanded.

"Perhaps so," said the man, "for I have heard say that there were wolves
of old in Wales."

"And what is the name of the beautiful hill yonder, before us across the
water?"

"That, sir, is called Cairn Drws y Coed," said the man.

"The stone heap of the gate of the wood," said I.

"Are you Welsh, sir?" said the man.

"No," said I, "but I know something of the language of Wales. I suppose
you live in that house?"

"Not exactly, sir, my father-in-law here lives in that house, and my wi