came to a few houses on the margin of a meadow or fen in a valley through
which the way trended to the east. They were almost overshadowed by an
enormous mountain which rose beyond the fen on the south. Seeing a house
which bore a sign, and at the door of which a horse stood tied, I went
in, and a woman coming to meet me in a kind of passage, I asked her if I
could have some ale.

"Of the best, sir," she replied, and conducted me down the passage into a
neat room, partly kitchen, partly parlour, the window of which looked out
upon the fen. A rustic-looking man sat smoking at a table with a jug of
ale before him. I sat down near him, and the good woman brought me a
similar jug of ale, which on tasting I found excellent. My spirits which
had been for some time very flagging presently revived, and I entered
into conversation with my companion at the table. From him I learned
that he was a farmer of the neighbourhood, that the horse tied before the
door belonged to him, that the present times were very bad for the
producers of grain, with very slight likelihood of improvement; that the
place at which we were was called Rhyd y fen, or the ford across the fen;
that it was just half way between Festiniog and Bala, that the clergyman
of the parish was called Mr Pughe, a good kind of man, but very purblind
in a spiritual sense; and finally that there was no safe religion in the
world, save that of the Calvinistic-Methodists, to which my companion
belonged.

Having finished my ale I paid for it, and leaving the Calvinistic farmer
still smoking, I departed from Rhyd y fen. On I went along the valley,
the enormous hill on my right, a moel of about half its height on my
left, and a tall hill bounding the prospect in the east, the direction in
which I was going. After a little time, meeting two women, I asked them
the name of the mountain to the south.

"Arenig Vawr," they replied, or something like it.

Presently meeting four men I put the same question to the foremost, a
stout, burly, intelligent-looking fellow, of about fifty. He gave me the
same name as the women. I asked if anybody lived upon it.

"No," said he, "too cold for man."

"Fox?" said I.

"No! too cold for fox."

"Crow?" said I.

"No, too cold for crow; crow would be starved upon it." He then looked
me in the face, expecting probably that I should smile.

I, however, looked at him with all the gravity of a judge, whereupon he
also observed the