ld take a stroll
along some favourite path or road. One night as I was wandering slowly
along the path leading through the groves of Pen y Coed I was startled by
an unearthly cry--it was the shout of the dylluan or owl, as it flitted
over the tops of the trees on its nocturnal business.

Oh, that cry of the dylluan! what a strange wild cry it is; how unlike
any other sound in nature! a cry which no combination of letters can give
the slightest idea of. What resemblance does Shakespear's
to-whit-to-whoo bear to the cry of the owl? none whatever; those who hear
it for the first time never know what it is, however accustomed to talk
of the cry of the owl and to-whit-to-whoo. A man might be wandering
through a wood with Shakespear's owl-chorus in his mouth, but were he
then to hear for the first time the real shout of the owl he would
assuredly stop short and wonder whence that unearthly cry could proceed.

Yet no doubt that strange cry is a fitting cry for the owl, the strangest
in its habits and look of all birds, the bird of whom by all nations the
strangest tales are told. Oh, what strange tales are told of the owl,
especially in connection with its long-lifedness; but of all the strange
wild tales connected with the age of the owl, strangest of all is the old
Welsh tale. When I heard the owl's cry in the groves of Pen y Coed that
tale rushed into my mind. I had heard it from the singular groom who had
taught me to gabble Welsh in my boyhood, and had subsequently read it in
an old tattered Welsh story-book, which by chance fell into my hands.
The reader will perhaps be obliged by my relating it.

"The eagle of the alder grove, after being long married and having had
many children by his mate, lost her by death, and became a widower.
After some time he took it into his head to marry the owl of the Cowlyd
Coomb; but fearing he should have issue by her, and by that means sully
his lineage, he went first of all to the oldest creatures in the world in
order to obtain information about her age. First he went to the stag of
Ferny-side Brae, whom he found sitting by the old stump of an oak, and
inquired the age of the owl. The stag said: 'I have seen this oak an
acorn which is now lying on the ground without either leaves or bark:
nothing in the world wore it up but my rubbing myself against it once a
day when I got up, so I have seen a vast number of years, but I assure
you that I have never seen the owl older or youn